Planting    a   garden  at  the White   House   was my  response    to  this    problem,    and
I   hoped   it  would   signal  the start   of  something   bigger. Barack’s    administration  was
focused on  improving   access  to  affordable  health  care,   and for me  the garden  was
a   way to  offer   a   parallel    message about   healthy living. I   saw it  as  an  early   test,   a
trial   run that    could   help    me  determine   what    I   might   be  able    to  accomplish  as  First
Lady,   a   literal way to  root    myself  in  this    new job.    I   conceived   of  it  as  a   kind    of
outdoor classroom,  a   place   kids    could   visit   to  learn   about   growing food.   On  the
surface,     a   garden  felt    elemental   and     apolitical,     a   harmless    and     innocent
undertaking  by  a   lady   with     a   spade—pleasing  to  Barack’s    West    Wing    advisers
who were    constantly  concerned   about   “optics,”   worrying    about   how everything
appeared    to  the public.
But there   was more    to  it  than    that.   I   planned to  use the work    we  did in  the
garden  to   spark   a   public  conversation    about   nutrition,  especially  at  schools     and
among    parents,   which    ideally     would   lead    to  discussions     about   how     food    was
produced,    labeled,    and    marketed     and     the     ways    that    was     affecting   public  health.
And  in  speaking    on  these   topics from     the     White   House,  I’d     be  offering    an
implicit     challenge   to  the     behemoth    corporations   in   the     food    and     beverage
industry    and the way they’d  been    doing   business    for decades.
The truth   was,    I   really  didn’t  know    how any of  it  would   go  over.   But as  I
directed    Sam,    who’d   joined  the White   House   staff,  to  begin   taking  steps   to  create
the garden, I   knew    I   was ready   to  find    out.
My   optimism    in  those   first   months  was     primarily   tempered    by  one     thing,
and  that    was    politics.    We  lived   in  Washington  now,    right   up  close   to  the     ugly
red-versus-blue dynamic I’d tried   for years   to  avoid,  even    as  Barack  had chosen  to
work    inside  it. Now that    he  was president,  these   forces  all but ruled   his every   day.
Weeks    earlier,    before  the     inauguration,   the     conservative    radio   host    Rush
Limbaugh    baldly  announced,  “I  hope    Obama   fails.” I’d watched with    dismay  as
Republicans  in  Congress    followed    suit,   fighting   Barack’s     every   effort  to  stanch
the economic    crisis, refusing    to  support measures    that    would   cut taxes   and save    or
create  millions    of  jobs.   On  the day he  took    office, according   to  some    indicators,
the American    economy was collapsing  as  fast    as  or  faster  than    it  had at  the onset
of   the     Great   Depression.     Nearly  750,000     jobs    had     been    lost   that    January alone.
And  while   Barack  had     campaigned  on  the     idea    that    it  was     possible   to   build
consensus    between     parties,    that    Americans   were    at  heart   more    united  than
divided,     the     Republican  Party   was     making  a   deliberate  effort,     in  a   time    of  dire
national    emergency   no  less,   to  prove   him wrong.
