It’s getting dark here, on the other side of the Atlantic, and I will soon inevitably fall asleep, and when I wake, the world will be a better place. Children all over the world, girls and boys alike, will see it too. They’ll see that hatred, bigotry and racism loses. They’ll see that their mothers, like their fathers, can do what they set their minds to, and they will feel pride for the world that they are growing up in.
We, as adults, will have partly provided them with what we promise them as parents; safety. They will feel comfortable, secure, they will not be afraid.
This election is not only about America, who will be its president, who will try to unite a country so mournfully split. It’s about the rest of us too. The world has looked up to you for too long, America, to simply dismiss a historic election such as this. You are writing history, and it has to be the right one. It must be humane, it must be sane, it must be passionate.
I know a man, a citizen of your country, sick in a hospital bed, who summoned an ambulance to speed him to the US embassy here in Athens, against his doctor’s orders, so he can cast his ballot today.
I’m a member of a miraculous group, Pantsuit Nation, where members’ stories have mesmerized me over the past few days. White gay couples with three black children, Bible Belt democrats, straight New Yorkers, Florida grandmas, Texan lesbians, women terrified of the possibility of the wrong outcome, depressed, anxious, unable to sleep. It’s been an honor to read their stories, for they are stories of hope, true freedom, and acceptance.
I hope my son wakes me in the middle of the night, and while I stumble to the kitchen to warm him some milk, at that very minute, I will hear the shattering of that immense, thick, yet never unbreakable glass ceiling. It will shatter on all of us, all over the globe, and I for one, will take my son by the hand, and dance fearless and barefoot in its pieces, as the sun appears on the horizon.