T

Clementa Pinckney, who had been one of nine people killed in a racially
motivated shooting earlier in the month at an African Methodist Episcopal
church known simply as Mother Emanuel. The victims, all African Americans,
had welcomed an unemployed twenty-one-year-old white man—a stranger to
them all—into their Bible study group. He’d sat with them for a while; then,
after the group bowed their heads in prayer, he stood up and began shooting. In
the middle of it, he was reported to have said, “I have to do this, because you
rape our women and you’re taking over our country.”

After delivering a moving eulogy for Reverend Pinckney and
acknowledging the deep tragedy of the moment, Barack surprised everyone by
leading the congregation in a slow and soulful rendition of “Amazing Grace.” It
was a simple invocation of hope, a call to persist. Everyone in the room, it
seemed, joined in. For more than six years now, Barack and I had lived with an
awareness that we ourselves were a provocation. As minorities across the country
were gradually beginning to take on more significant roles in politics, business,
and entertainment, our family had become the most prominent example. Our
presence in the White House had been celebrated by millions of Americans, but
it also contributed to a reactionary sense of fear and resentment among others.
The hatred was old and deep and as dangerous as ever.

We lived with it as a family, and we lived with it as a nation. And we carried
on, as gracefully as we could.

he same day as the funeral service in Charleston—June 26, 2015—the
Supreme Court of the United States issued a landmark decision, affirming that
same-sex couples had the right to marry in all fifty states. This was the
culmination of a legal battle that had been fought methodically over decades, state
by state, court by court, and as with any civil rights struggle it had required the
persistence and courage of many people. On and off over the course of the day,
I’d caught reports of Americans overjoyed by the news. A jubilant crowd
chanted, “Love has won!” on the steps of the Supreme Court. Couples were
flocking to city halls and county courthouses to exercise what was now a
constitutional right. Gay bars were opening early. Rainbow flags waved on street
corners around the country.

All this had helped buoy us through a sad day in South Carolina. Returning
home to the White House, we’d changed out of our funeral clothes, had a quick