8 years of “adulting” 8 years of Obama

I graduated college the year Obama was sworn into office. It just dawned on me that Barack Obama has been president my entire adult life.

I’m one of the oldest people who can say this (I’m counting my four years living on a college campus as pre-adult life). I remember the night Obama was elected the pure euphoria that surrounded my college campus. How cool is it that the first vote I ever cast in a presidential election was such a historic one?

We were in the midst of the recession that election, and at first graduating college seemed ominous- would there be jobs for us? I can’t give Obama credit for everything, but the message of HOPE that he preached rang true with my class. My adult world as I know it, as it directly effects me, has always been a world in which Obama was president. The economy in which I’ve looked for and thankfully landed jobs, the healthcare system in which I’ve been treated (and billed- or not, I’m looking at you Birth Control), were all under Obama’s influence. The kids I taught in a Houston, TX public school saw inspiration in a leader that looked just like many of them.

I don’t know what it’s like to be an adult in a world with a different president. I have some idea from watching the adults around me when I was younger; from trying to make my own sense of things. But I’ve never been an adult in that reality.

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I just passed on this awesome book by Nerissa Nields to a younger coworker. Hoping I’ve figured out the gist of it by now, even as things change.

Am I scared of what our new reality will look like? Of course. But I cannot overlook that because I am straight, white, able-bodied, cisgendered, born in America to a Christian family, my fears are nothing. Nothing compared to those minorities fearing for their safety, their rights, their dignity as human beings.

I wish I could say something heartfelt right now to calm those fears. But I don’t know what to say. I’m not in your shoes and I’ve never been an adult in a time like this. Sure, I can continue to offer that I will look for the good in all of us. I will continue to offer sweaty hugs.

I will forge on and figure out what it means to be an adult in a world without Obama as our president. But I’ve got 68 days left to enjoy Obama’s good looks, sports analogies, and sense of humor. And I’m looking forward to December 1st, when, thanks to Obama, I will become eligible for overtime pay.

This four year old has pretty much got it nailed how I feel. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XgtSt_xBwvg

Thank you, Obama, for setting the bar so high, for all our future presidents.

Imagine if Every Girl Grew Up in a Place Like Connecticut

Think about the last time you went to watch a sporting event. High school, college, semi-pro, pro. Any sport. For me, it was a Mountaineers baseball game this summer. I assume for many of us, myself included, that the athletes you watched were male.

I grew up in Connecticut where, when people watched sports, talked sports, and breathed sports, the chances were slightly higher it was female athletes they were following. In Connecticut, “did you watch the game?” in February probably means did you watch the UConn Women’s Basketball game.

Sure, people from Connecticut watch males play sports, too. They love the Patriots, they are loyal to the Red Sox or they despise them, and they are all in a tizzy over the new minor league “Yard Goats” team. It turns out, UConn even has a men’s team. Remember 2004 and 2014 when both the men and the women were national champions?

Imagine being a girl, growing up in a place where not only were your role models female athletes, these athletes were household names. And not just in your slightly progressive sports-obsessed nuclear family household. Back then, not knowing who Rebecca Lobo or Svetlana Abrosimona was in Connecticut, would be the equivalent of not knowing who Tom Brady is. Now it’s Brenna Stewart and Morgan Tuck. Say those names where I live now in Vermont, and people look at you like you are speaking a foreign language.

Growing up, my sister, Abby, and I were obsessed to say the least. We went to live games, we went to my Grandma’s to watch games before we had cable, taped Sports Center recaps and watched them on repeat on the VCR over our school vacation. I’ve seen more Liberty Basketball games than any other professional team. Did you catch that part about going to my Grandma’s to watch the games?

My grandma watched the games, too. Everyone did. She’d been a school nurse and we always joked that she knew everyone in town so going to the grocery store was a multi-hour affair by the time she got through chatting. She loved those Huskies as much as she loved chatting, and women’s basketball was one thing we could count on talking about. Shopping was another pastime of hers, and she made sure we all had UConn t-shirts to wear on game days.

And my grandpa on the other side of the family. He was from a generation that would’ve made him a prime candidate to roll his eyes when Title IX came about and took away funding from men’s team in order to support women’s teams equally. He was no progressive feminist. But he’d talk UConn Women’s Basketball for days. He’d play HORSE with us in the driveway and pretend to be Svetlana. For him, watching women’s sports meant watching not only the Huskies, but also my sisters and I.

We grew up believing that we, as girls, could be strong, powerful, successful athletes. My attempts at rec basketball didn’t go so well; I switched over to track and field. But I never stopped watching UConn, nor did the rest of my state.

In Connecticut, the culture of obsessing over a women’s sports team brought us together and brought our daughters belief in themselves. What if every girl grew up in a place like that?

What if we all gather our friends and go watch a women’s sporting event, be it high school, college, semi-pro or pro? Think of the message it would send to the young girls in our lives. Take them, too, but take others so they know that girls’ sports aren’t just interesting for girls.

Because, for those of us who grew up in Connecticut during the time of Geno Auriemma, girls sports are for everyone. Uconn, congrats on your 11th NCAA title. And thank you, from all the girls who grow up believing in themselves (and all the boys who never questioned that) because of you.

**Thanks, Dad for the edit (and the years of UConn Fandom). I will say it was in the spirit of my late grandpa that my previous post said Jen Lobo instead of Rebecca Lobo or Jen Rizzotti. Bopper, as we called my Grandpa, was forever butchering names and thanks to his awesome sense of humor you’d never know if it was a mistake or a planned joke.