By Elizabeth Gracen:
I don’t know why I thought I wouldn’t watch the Democratic National Convention (DNC) last week. Maybe it’s because I’m not usually drawn to a pep-rally atmosphere, or because after quickly doom scrolling the cold, forced, apocalyptic vision of America offered at the RNC earlier this summer the whole idea of tuning in to yet another political spectacle didn’t inspire confidence that it would feel authentic or worthwhile.
Holy Cat Ladies, was I wrong!
I was only able to catch bits of the first night's speech by President Joe Biden, the man who history will anoint as a true American hero for democracy. But following Doug Emhoff's awesome display of genuine love and respect for his extraordinary wife and the Obamas full-wattage power speeches the next night, the fire in me was lit.
Michelle Obama alone made me realize that I could actually still, even at my age, have a role model—someone who could inspire me to greatness, to stretch myself further, extend my arms wider to those around me. It was the kick in the pants that I truly needed.
I had been prepping my kid to return for their sophomore year in college that week. With the car packed for a two-day drive, we arrived at our half-way point Wednesday evening to spend the night with a close relative before heading farther north the next morning. Family members arrived to wish us well on our journey. All of us dyed-in-the-wool liberals, we sat together in front of the television and ate takeout as we watched that night’s DNC broadcast—each enthusiastic speaker hitting the stage in advance of Gov. Tim Walz’s acceptance of the party’s nomination for vice-president.
That night’s rollicking call to action featured a look back at history, live music (Stevie Wonder!), and an epically clever smackdown of the horrid Project 2025 by Keenan Thompson. Oprah Winfrey followed not long after with a vintage Oprah message, topped only by the arrival of Walz’s former Minnesota high school football team, their jerseys stretched tight over their bellies as they celebrated the coach we all wish we had in high school. The ebullient emotion of a political party on full burn was undeniable as the words “Joy,” “We love America,” “We are the greatest country on earth,” and “Do something!” rang through the hall. We couldn’t help but tear up when Walz’s son, Gus, showed us all what real joy and love look like—what pride feels like. By the time it was all over, our family talked about how good and hopeful we felt, how grateful we were to be feeling that way, and how unusual it felt to be experiencing that again after what feels like an eternity of dark, negative scenarios threatening our country.
After a long drive to college the next day and a successful drop-off for another year, I sat alone in the airport, watching the last night of the convention on my glitching MSNBC app as Vice President Harris took the stage to accept the nomination, cementing her place of honor as an inspiring leader with the experience and vision to bring our country back online and into a future that seemed all but impossible to achieve only a month ago. As I boarded the plane, the broadcast still streaming, her powerful words in my earbuds, I found my seat, hoping I could make it to the end before takeoff. Thanks to a slight delay and the plane’s slow pushback, I finally watched the balloons drop over the auditorium in Chicago. Before I knew it, we were in the air, and the world felt changed for the better.
It’s now a week later, and reality has set in. In less than 70 days, we will elect a new president. Those shiny moments at the convention only last week will slowly fade, but I’m left to ponder the joyous mindset and hopeful vein that has been tapped in the American consciousness since Harris and Walz stepped front and center.
How is it possible that we let so much darkness seep into the collective? How did we allow such a dimming of the best things that make us Americans?
I mean, I honestly feel proud of being from the USA again, and I didn’t even realize that I felt shame until that shroud of darkness was lifted by a woman with an infectious laugh and a no-nonsense attitude about right and wrong and how we should treat one another better.
When I try to figure out why I truly feel a little better these days, I think about the connection I felt with my friends and family during that DNC week. We connected through the unified relief and determination to be positive, to fight, to move forward toward the promise of the American experiment that we believe in instead of backward into darkness, repression, and fear. Connected to our dreams. Connected by a cause and purpose. Connected to each other. No more foolishness. No more accepting and normalizing sinister behavior. We know better. We deserve better. We can be better. In the words of President Joe Biden:
"We are the United States of America, and there is nothing—nothing beyond our capacity when we do it together."
Please go to Vote.gov for information about voter registration, deadlines, and how to make a plan to vote in this historic and vital election on November 5, 2024.
Elizabeth Gracen is the owner of Flapper Press & Flapper Films.
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