promise and the symbolism of the moment. If America elected its first black
president, it would say something not just about Barack but also about the
country. For so many people, and for so many reasons, this mattered a lot.
Barack, of course, got the most of it—the public adulation as well as the
scrutiny that rode inevitably on its back. The more popular you became, the
more haters you acquired. It seemed almost like an unwritten rule, especially in
politics, where adversaries put money into opposition research—hiring
investigators to crawl through every piece of a candidate’s background, looking
for anything resembling dirt.
We are built differently, my husband and I, which is why one of us chose
politics and the other did not. He was aware of rumors and misperceptions that
got pumped like toxic vapor into the campaign, but rarely did any of it bother
him. Barack had lived through other campaigns. He’d studied political history
and girded himself with the context it provided. And in general, he’s just not
someone who’s easily rattled or thrown off course by anything as abstract as
doubt or hurt.
I, on the other hand, was still learning about public life. I considered myself
a confident, successful woman, but I was also the same kid who used to tell
people she planned to be a pediatrician and devoted herself to setting perfect
attendance records at school. In other words, I cared what people thought. I’d
spent my young life seeking approval, dutifully collecting gold stars and avoiding
messy social situations. Over time, I’d gotten better about not measuring my self-
worth strictly in terms of standard, by-the-book achievement, but I did tend to
believe that if I worked diligently and honestly, I’d avoid the bullies and always
be seen as myself.
This belief, though, was about to come undone.
After Barack’s victory in Iowa, my message on the campaign trail grew only
more impassioned, almost proportional to the size of the crowds that were
turning out at rallies. I’d gone from meeting hundreds of people at a gathering to
a thousand or more. I remember pulling up to an event in Delaware with Melissa
and Katie and seeing a line of people five-deep and stretching around the block,
waiting to get inside an already-jammed auditorium. It stunned me in the
happiest of ways. I relayed this to every crowd: I was floored by what people
were bringing to Barack’s campaign in terms of enthusiasm and involvement. I
was humbled by their investment, the work I saw everyday people doing to help
get him elected.