A Tribute to Ann Dunham

What I would say about Stanley Ann Dunham, Barack Obama’s mother, is the same thing I would say about myself and countless other women who were on the forefront of the sexual and cultural revolution during the sixties and seventies.  Ann got there before many of us, but her sisters followed in her path sleeping with men of different colors and cultures, marching for civil rights, donating our time and voices to down trodden peoples all over the world, burning our bras along side the shadows of our brothers who burned their draft cards, marching for peace, standing up to the old tired establishment of old white men who were too much in line with the military industrial complex.

We wrote poetry, wove macrame, read Khalil Gibran, made love to whomever we chose, had children with whoever happened to be there at the time with or without the benefit of marriage.  We named our children Barack, Marshada, Keif, Nadanche, Moleek, Serena, Raven, and Rainbow.  We had natural childbirth many at home, breast fed our babies, refused to  circumsize our sons and taught our daughters that they had choices.

We  volunteered at child care centers, worked in community gardens, recycled, befriended the elderly, sang folk songs in coffee houses, and listened to jazz late in the night.  We organized food co-ops, defended the rights of animals, and became vegetarians.

We loved our children, continued our educations, became doctors, teachers, anthropologists, librarians and social workers.  We championed gay and lesbian rights, and found happiness in our natural surroundings.  We were a movement – the baby boomer women.  There are millions of us.  We did things differently.  We talked back.  We questioned authority.

Barack Obama is one of our children.  I think of Ann Dunham as a warrior.  I wish I could have met her.
I know I would have liked her.  I love her son.

I’m voting for him in November.  When he is elected I am going to hang a framed portrait of him in my living room…. Just like family.