The State of the Union. Or, Bike Riding.

I really want to believe him.

Politics. It's like a bad word. Being completely honest, I don't so much try to avoid it as ignore it. Sure, I like the idea of democracy. But I also like the idea of leaving my bike unchained at the park. And that left me hurt.

Many other people have had a similar experience. We put at least a small bit of hope out on the bike rack, trusting things will get better. But then we learn the ones who are supposed to take care of it, these politicians, are the ones who run away with it. And we're left wondering if we should believe at all. Was my trust the problem? Is it just them? And then, defeated, Should I even ride?

Tonight, listening to President Obama, I wanted to ride. I wanted to take the bike out of the apartment and sail, wind at my back. I'd fly through neighborhoods of Real Reform, Economic Upswing and Global Consideration. I'd leave behind Crooked Alley and Lying Circle. And alongside of me would be the same men and women I suspected would steal my bike if I ever brought it out again.

Either Obama has keyed in on the most manipulative emotion in our broken nation, "hope," and exploited it. Or, he really believes that there is change to be made, and wants to be an agent of that change for the greater good. Whatever the case, politicians still look like bike thieves to me.

But I want to believe him.

I want to ride.

The Inauguration of Barack Obama

I am currently watching the broadcast of the inauguration. Joe Biden has been sworn in.

Over the past few months I have experienced something that I would not understand on my own. From spending time with my African-American workmates, classmates and church...mates, I have learned how much this new president means to a people who have not only been the minority, but have been treated as a minority.

I'm Puerto Rican, but I'm considered a typical white American. I'm second generation born in the United States, speak English as my primary language, and have lived in and among white communities.

As I talk to so many different people, especially black Americans (not all are African), I am realizing how huge this event today is, that a black person would be the figure-head and leader of the United States of America. For many of us, it is another president. But for the black community, it is a beacon of hope. It is a prayer for a guiding light. And it means more to some than others could ever imagine.

I've been trying to wrap my head around that, and it's taking quite a bit. The more conversations I have with older people who lived through the civil rights movement, the more I get it. The more I hear from those who are still oppressed today, the more I get it.

I don't know what all this will mean for our country, or for our world, but I pray that this glimpse of hope for some will turn into a united effort to work toward a better world.