As the people of this country (along with the peoples of the world) sit mesmerized by the continuing slugfest between US senators Hillary Clinton and Barack Obama over which will be the Democratic nominee, I’ve had to chuckle a bit. After all, who would have imagined that the final two candidates would be major firsts for this country: a woman and a black man. Then again, it dawned on me that change does happen, sometimes suddenly and without warning.
Right in my own backyard, as it happens. I’ve been here more than half a decade, I realized, and it’s easy for me to forget how much things have changed here in that span.
It was six years ago this month, in fact, that I loaded my valuables into a storage locker in Chicago, packed up the car, and the spousal unit and I set off for Maine. And let’s be honest (and you know this if you’ve read me long enough), it was a state neither of us really wanted to come to. But pressing personal issues made it a necessity.
In the early years here, I felt like I had landed in an alternate universe. It was like a Star Trek episode I might have seen a dozen times (not by choice; my dad is a huge Trek fan), where everything on the surface seemed familiar, but suddenly Spock had a beard and everyone was wearing sashes.
In my case, I saw the normal goings-on of life, but I never seemed to see myself reflected in the crowds. On a daily basis, if I saw more than one other person of color, it felt like a victory. And most days, victory was not to be mine.
However, as the years have progressed, we decided to settle down and buy a house because leaving simply wasn’t an option, and we added another kid to the family. I became less concerned with how many others of difference I encountered on a daily basis. Partly because more kept cropping up, so the seek-and-find game wasn’t as relevant anymore. Also, because I came to regard the people of Maine as neighbors and not simply a mass of homogenous pale people.
Somewhere between years three and four, Maine became home. In my own community, the looks of hostility or curiosity that I was used to encountering have become simply nods of greeting, a quiet recognition that I too live here.
I’ve seen several mostly white communities, not just Portland, host diversity-related events, even if the impetus was usually Black History Month. (In fact, just this past month in Saco, the Saco Museum hosted an exhibit for Black History Month, which chronicled the Civil Rights Movement, something I wouldn’t have dreamed could happen six years ago.)
Maine even did me proud by picking Barack Obama in the Democratic caucus. They looked beyond race to see someone they thought was a unifying force and perhaps the most sincere politician in the race. Is he ready for the big time? We still have a ways to go to figure that out, but I’m happy to see that Maine gave him the nod to try.
I’ll never be a Mainer; I know the rules about that. But as the mother of one, I’m proud to call the state home. Even if I do think the taxes and health-insurance options and lack of public transportation still suck. (Hey, I still have something to bitch about!)
Shay Stewart-Bouley can be reached at diversecity_phoenix@yahoo.com.
