I

my mother; blue-collar workers who’d do anything for their families, just like my
dad. I didn’t need to practice or use notes. I said only what I sincerely felt.

Along the way, reporters and even some acquaintances began asking me
some form of the same question: What was it like to be a five-foot-eleven, Ivy
League–educated black woman speaking to roomfuls of mostly white Iowans?
How odd did that feel?

I never liked this question. It always seemed to be accompanied by a
sheepish half smile and the don’t-take-this-the-wrong-way inflection that people
often use when approaching the subject of race. It was an idea, I felt, that sold us
all short, assuming that the differences were all anyone saw.

Mainly I bristled because the question was so antithetical to what I was
experiencing and what the people I was meeting seemed to be experiencing, too
—the man with a seed-corn logo on his breast pocket, the college student in a
black-and-gold pullover, the retiree who’d brought an ice cream bucket full of
sugar cookies she’d frosted with our rising-sun campaign logo. These people
found me after my talks, seeming eager to talk about what we shared—to say that
their dad had lived with MS, too, or that they’d had grandparents just like mine.
Many said they’d never gotten involved with politics before but something about
our campaign made them feel it would be worth it. They were planning to
volunteer at the local office, they said, and they’d try persuading a spouse or
neighbor to come along, too.

These interactions felt natural, genuine. I found myself hugging people
instinctively and getting hugged tightly back.

t was around this time that I took Malia to our pediatrician for a well-child
visit, which we did every three to six months to keep tabs on the asthma she’d
had since she was a baby. The asthma was under control, but the doctor alerted
me to something else—Malia’s body mass index, a measure of health that factors
together height, weight, and age, was beginning to creep up. It wasn’t a crisis, he
said, but it was a trend to take seriously. If we didn’t change some habits, it could
become a real problem over time, increasing her risk for high blood pressure and
type 2 diabetes. Seeing the stricken look on my face, he assured me that the
problem was both common and solvable. The rate of childhood obesity was
rising all around the country. He’d seen many examples in his practice, which