I wanted to take a single photo that would capture this day — the day Barack Obama was elected president.
A friend reminded me: “You’re a writer — and a horrific photographer. Stick with words.” But the story of Nov. 4, 2008, would be told thousands of times. With so many other versions of this story to be judged against, I was scared I wouldn’t be able to live up to expectations. So I tried something else.
I woke early yesterday and stepped outside with my camera. Less than 20 feet outside my apartment in Harlem, I saw the voting line; it spanned around the city block.
I took a photo.
When I walked toward the front, an elderly black woman was crying.
“Ma, you OK?” her daughter asked.
“It’s amazing.”
“You mean Obama?”
“Just how happy this is. I’m just really happy. Fifty years ago, this didn’t seem possible. A black man for president? It’s amazing, just amazing.”
Another photo.
This day felt different, like something special was happening. On the subway, Obama buttons were everywhere. Businessmen talked to hipsters about the election. Three men held the New York Post with Obama on the cover. The headline read “Brink of history.”
It was truly historic, but everyone I talked to had their own reasons why.
For some, it was because Barack Obama was going to be the first black president. For others, it was because a better leader was taking charge. And some just liked Obama’s policies.
For my three-week-old cousin, it was historic because he was carried into the voting booth with his mom. Josiah, who is half black, will appreciate it one day.
But for me, there was something else. I felt like something great was happening, but I didn’t know what. In a way, my journey was to find out why this was historic for me.
I visited five polling places in New York. Voters seemed businesslike. One man said to me, “Let’s get this done and put him in office.” No matter how crazy the polls got, the voters stayed calm. At times, it felt like Obama’s composure was instilled in his supporters.
When poll workers began to give me dirty looks, I ventured to Union Square and took photos of vendors selling Obama paraphernalia. I took more photos.
In all, I walked for six hours all over Manhattan. I took over 1,000 pictures; less than 100 turned out. Only about 10 could be published. None captured the day.
Not only was I failing to take a picture, I didn’t even have words for it. I was frustrated.
I desperately continued on my trek to find that single, perfect photo. But my subconscious led me away from the ruckus and toward the Hudson River. Soon, I found myself leaning against the railing at the end of a dock. Away from human contact, I thought about why I liked the idea of Obama leading America. Immediately, I thought of a video from Time magazine.
Two weeks ago, Joe Klein, the longtime political writer, interviewed Obama. In his 30-some years of interviewing presidential candidates, no one has agreed to an interview this close to an election — they were scared of messing up, he said. Obama not only sat down with him, but he avoided “canned talking points.”
“He seemed willing to think in my presence when I asked him these questions,” Klein said.
Thinking about that sound clip, I realized why this day was historic for me.
It wasn’t that, as we confirmed hours later, Obama would soon be president. It was that our president-elect isn’t driven by failure, but by the prospect of success.
It was a strange realization because my entire journey started out of fear — fear I wouldn’t be able to capture this moment in history well enough. Eleanor Roosevelt once said, “You gain strength, courage and confidence by every experience in which you really stop to look fear in the face.”
Obama seems to understand this. He seems to humbly accept that, sometimes, when we strive for success, we will fail. But when we fail, we will not let fear of it drive us.
Yesterday, I never got that perfect photo. But I did find the perfect word to encapsulate this historic day. This words exists because we believe, even through its failures, America will succeed. It’s the word that describes the screaming people in the streets, the crying people at home and those with goosebumps watching the senator from Illinois step up to lead this country. It’s what he’s told us to do all along.
Hope.
Alvin Chang is a columnist and a former editor-in-chief. E-mail him at achang@nyunews.com.
Washington Square News > etcetera > Life of Alvin
Capturing history
Published: Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Updated: Wednesday, November 5, 2008
2 comments
Sylvia Shaykis
I always love your pieces Alvin, and this one's no exception... also if it means anything, I thought your photo that ran in the paper (although not sure why it's not up here) was a great one!
Mariana
This is beautiful.
