T

In the case of the Illinois senate in 1996, my reasoning went like this: I
didn’t much appreciate politicians and therefore didn’t relish the idea of my
husband becoming one. Most of what I knew about state politics came from what
I read in the newspaper, and none of it seemed especially good or productive. My
friendship with Santita Jackson had given me a sense that politicians were often
required to be away from home. In general, I thought of lawmakers almost like
armored tortoises, leather-skinned, slow moving, thick with self-interest. Barack
was too earnest, too full of valiant plans, in my opinion, to abide by the
hardscrabble, drag-it-out rancor that went on inside the domed capitol downstate
in Springfield.

In my heart, I just believed there were better ways for a good person to have
an impact. Quite honestly, I thought he’d get eaten alive.

Already, however, there was a counterargument brewing in the recesses of
my own conscience. If Barack believed he could do something in politics, who
was I to get in his way? Who was I to stomp on the idea before he’d even tried
it? After all, he was the lone person who had waved me forward when I wanted
to leave my law career, who’d had his concerns about my going to city hall but
supported me nonetheless, and who right now was working multiple jobs, partly
to compensate for the pay cut I’d taken to become a full-time do-gooder at
Public Allies. In our six years together, he hadn’t once doubted my instincts or
my capabilities. The refrain had always been the same: Don’t worry. You can do
this. We’ll figure it out.

And so I gave my approval to his first run for office, larding it with a bit of
wifely caution. “I think you’ll be frustrated,” I warned. “If you end up getting
elected, you’re gonna go down there and nothing will get accomplished, no
matter how hard you try. It’ll drive you crazy.”

“Maybe,” Barack said, with a bemused shrug. “But maybe I can do some
good. Who knows?”

“That’s right,” I said, shrugging back. It wasn’t my job to interfere with his
optimism. “Who knows?”

his won’t be news to anyone, but my husband did become a politician. He
was a good person who wanted to have an impact in the world, and despite my
skepticism he decided this was the best way to go about it. Such is the nature of