The polls predicted victory for Sen. Barack Obama (D-Ill.), some would even say an Obama landslide. My brothers were sure of it. My friends figured he had a 95 percent chance of winning the election. Even Sen. John McCain (R-Ariz.) seemed to concede defeat with his bizarre "Saturday Night Live" QVC skit. But I knew it. In my heart of hearts, the dark thought lingered: There was no way Obama would actually win. After two crushingly disappointing elections, I realized it was futile: there was no point in hoping. No point in caring. I'd been sure in 2000 that Al Gore would be the 43rd president, and I was just as sure that the American people could not re-elect George W. Bush in 2004. So now of course, there was no point in getting worked up about another election.
Oh sure, I bought the Obama buttons. I stuck them on both my book bag and my favorite tote; I put one on my wall; I even gave some to my brother for his birthday. But my heart wasn't in it. Not really. What was the point of getting my hopes up again, only to have them violently crushed? And you see, my lack of faith has been well served. Obama promised us change and hope. But hope is overrated, and did the American people really want change?
Apparently not.
Wait.
What?
Obama won the election? Oh, thank God. Let me start again.
Is this how Bostonians felt when the Red Sox finally won the World Series? Maybe I feel dry and weak and spent instead, like when I found out that I got into Princeton.
Actually, I have no idea how I feel in your now, because as I'm typing this in my now, the election still hangs in the balance, despite all the polls and SNL skits. If you are reading this article, it means that Barack Obama did indeed win the election, and as you read this, you are probably confronting your own emotions, be they grief, rage, relief, exultation, or indifference. But, I can't begin to imagine how I'll actually feel. Intellectually, I understand that Obama stands to win. What's more, I know that if you're reading this, and not one of the other four columns I've written for today's paper in case something else happens, Obama is the new president-elect. And of course, as a Democrat who desperately misses the Clinton years, I want Obama to win. But I wasn't lying before. In my heart of hearts, the dark thought does linger. Do I dare to hope? The question is rendered moot by my inability to really, truly believe that Obama would win. I am plagued by a strange, unpleasant reverse faith.
I'm 21. That means I've been alive for six presidential elections. I remember five. I was politically aware for four and emotionally invested in two (2000 and 2004). For all practical intents and purposes, I've only lived under two American presidents. The 1990s were a decade of possibilities. The 2000s went from great to good to "eh" to bad to "oh gods, I really don't want to stand on a breadline!"
I suppose that the dull deadness I feel toward the election is a defense mechanism. I realize that political apathy is nothing strange, and that many people really don't care how the election turns out and can't be bothered to know the difference between the candidates. But what I feel isn't apathy, and I do know the difference between the candidates, their policies and their campaign strategies. What I feel is a cool emotional detachment that contrasts starkly with my former passion, my rational understanding of the political scene and the fact that I do want a certain outcome.
In the end, there's really only one course of action: smile, celebrate and hope again. To my fellow Democrats who did believe, congratulations. I envy your faith, but it has been well rewarded and you are to be commended and thanked. Republicans: You don't quite have my sympathies, but now you feel my pain; you have hope too - there's always 2012. And if you were supporting a candidate other than McCain or Obama, well, you either have deep convictions or high ideals, and the question of hope is superfluous or redundant. So I guess I do know how I'll feel come tomorrow as you read this.
I was wrong. For once, I'm glad I was.
Martha Vega-Gonzalez is a history major from New York, N.Y. She can be reached at mvega@princeton.edu.
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