Night ends with me and my felon friends yelling ”black power Obama 4 all humanity!” and me crying.

We have Overcome! Thank you God. We have overcome.

God bless PDA’s. I woke up restless at about 2:30 a.m, and then every hour after. Got up and brushed my teeth and deoderized.

I bought a blunt and joked with an Atlanta-African, he said to me, ‘Do not get so high that u cast the wrong vote.’ So I promise to not smoke until the victory party later (legalize it). I listened to Steve Harvey (hip hop)-hater, but I love him like an uncle-and he had a powerful message of God’s will being the most powerful directive and God directing this moment in history.

I got to polls at 6:23 a.m.

Got in a short line, met by warm greeting in the parking lot. I was the 14th person in line (not bad for a rapper. 13th was a father and son seated and behind me was a mousey looking woman holding a file.)

People came by the 2’s, steadily and at a country slow pace (Southern folk move at the pace of molasses in winter, sloooow and steady). I see the sisters and mothers of childhood playmates and they are pleasantly surprised to see me here. People always think you change after a lil’ fame but I have not been able to. LOL. I cannot become a prick or celebrity *sshole to save my life. After she leaves, I am flooded with a temporary moment of nastalgia I remember being by my grandmother side every election as a child in the 80’s. There is a 60-ish old man talking cash sh*t and amusing folk and time whizzez by. A lady born in ‘53 says ‘I came for the excitement. I woulda sat here all day.’ The 60-ish in a Kangol turns the convo to Palin and I throw the “A” the first time in my life. I ain’t worried bout what the other side doing. They got to worry ’bout us. We laugh and convo breaks up.  All convos turn in to “We are history.” ‘53 said she cannot remember lots of that indignities (this has been a grafting process), a pretty dark lady in a beret says it’s not all Whites (that were bad), but it was kids being raised bad by racist parents.

The sun is rising on the West, always a beautiful sight. The blackened and purpled sky of dawn turns into a canvas of water color where the edges of the sky are a faint wash of the deep dark sky of nit and fades as the sun gently pushes the curtain of night back, and opening for the sun to stand center stage.

At the core, these oppressed people are appauled by McCain’s meanness. I am happy to be Black. All this, they don’t hate Bush or McCain or Palin, they just think they are being “mean.” Whoa. What an understatement, but that’s Black folk, forever forgiving. What a race. Once door is open, the son asks his dad. “We gotta wait our time.”

I think back as a kid, I would ask my grandma how long and she would say those words to me. I can not help but feeling like “our time is finally here.” No more waiting. I lost a mentor Rev. James Orange in February. He was a field general and organizer for MLK Jr. He talked of how proud he was of Barack and how disappointed that some of his peers did not back Barack. I hope he knows all his peers are reformed and we are moments away from our first Black President and I have him and my grandma, who marched, on my mind as I think about casting my ballot.

Forms come out. I use dad’s chair to write on. He holds it for a man. Brother helping brother.

Once I’m in, it takes another hour or so to vote. They let some other folk in that practically spent the night. And the rapper thought he was dedicated, these folk gotta work, and they here. I see the old the young people, I grew up with all here, and once in, we got half the machines we usually have and not enough electronic voter cards. Patient and determined, the father with the son from line wait and eventually get our shot, although the lady behind me encounters problems and has to protest and vote on a special machine, but votes none the less. After I vote, I steal an extra “I am a GA voter sticker.” I called my homies  that all are on federal or state probation. Only one woke up. His name is Sleepy. He asked if I cast my vote for him. I told him, “yeah I voted” exactly how you told me too, and he screams “Obama is mankind!” And praises Al Sharpton for making him an Obama supporter. (even though Killer Mike is his best frined and told him way before Sharpton). Hey, a crook for a crook, I guess. Lol. Just playing.

Me asleep, me a sleep. Meet up for breakfast in the West end section of Atlanta very working class. And very Black, populated by Rasta’s Black Muslims Black Jews and Christians and I see a wacky White lady, absolutely unafraid. Obama stickers litter her car. She’s holding a hand painted Obama sign out the window and she blows her horn, even cops have to smile and stop traffic for her. As I watch this spectacle and think about this morning and the last 20 or so years of my life. I can truly say, “Change Has Come.”