Dear Barack,
May I call you Barack? After all we’ve experienced together over the past eight years, referring to you as Mr. President feels a bit distant. It’s hard to believe this chapter is coming to a close, and the thought of your departure fills me with a profound sense of loss. If I were there with you, I might just wrap my arms around your legs, pleading for you to stay. Yet, recognizing that you deserve a moment of peace, I must accept this ending.
I graduated from college in May 2008, carrying a heavy burden of debt and dashed hopes. The looming recession made job hunting nearly impossible upon my return home, and I found myself searching for a beacon of hope. When you clinched the Democratic nomination, relief washed over me. Your mantra, “Yes, we can,” ignited my belief in a brighter future. You became the savior I desperately needed.
Voting for you was a proud moment I shared with my mother in a school gym. My heart swelled as I realized I was casting my vote for the first black president of the United States—a milestone I once thought I’d witness only in my twilight years. Watching you take the stage in Chicago with Michelle, Sasha, and Malia brought me to tears. I remember the cold January day when you took the oath of office; I cried again as you and Michelle danced to “At Last.”
You faced an uphill battle against a nation that wished for your failure. You stood firm against attacks questioning your American identity based on your Kenyan heritage and middle name. You and Michelle carried yourselves with such grace, like two majestic swans, letting negativity slide off your backs. When I encounter adversity, I often ask myself, WWOD (What Would Obama Do)? Your strength inspires me to let go of the bitterness.
As you worked tirelessly to restore the country, I found my footing too. I had to relinquish my dreams of becoming an actor due to time constraints and the urgency to pay off my debts. The night the Navy Seals captured Bin Laden was particularly poignant for me as a New Yorker. That moment felt like a turning point for you, and your confidence resonated with us all. By the time the 2012 election rolled around, I felt certain of your victory, despite the Republican opposition led by Romney. I celebrated with a fine bottle of wine when California sealed the deal for you.
The last four years were a rollercoaster of emotions. We shared many tears—mourning tragic events like school shootings and the deaths of Trayvon Martin, Eric Garner, and Michael Brown. It often felt like the weight of a nation’s frustrations fell on your shoulders as you tried to convey the urgency of justice to those who refused to listen.
Yet, we also shared moments of joy. Your announcement of the Affordable Care Act, though imperfect, was a significant stride forward. I wept with happiness when marriage equality was achieved, realizing that my friends could finally celebrate their love openly. Through it all, your unwavering poise reassured me that you were capable of handling the immense challenges you faced.
Thank you for championing the arts and enriching the cultural landscape of the White House. Your willingness to celebrate music and creativity brought vitality to your presidency. I particularly appreciated how you provided a platform for Lin Manuel Miranda to showcase early performances of Hamilton; it was a breath of fresh air. Your recognition of black artists in the arts has given many a chance to flourish.
Most importantly, I admire your devotion as a husband and father. The love you openly showed to Michelle inspired many to embrace their relationships fully. Watching you speak of your daughters, filled with pride and admiration, made me aspire to be a better parent.
I now have a son who shares some traits with you. Like you, he is mixed-race, raised by a single mother, and has a close bond with his grandmother. While he may not remember your presidency, I look forward to telling him your story, illustrating that if you could achieve greatness, so can he.
So, from the depths of my heart, thank you, Barack.
With all my love and admiration,
Janelle Rivera