Yesterday I finally bought Obama’s book, The Audacity of Hope. I’d avoided taking it seriously for a long time; it came out at a time when it was clear he was laying the groundwork for presidential campaign, and the title emanated political rhetoric, like he was setting the stage to create a campaign stratergy based on our culture’s history of rooting for underdogs.

As the democratic race has unfolded I’ve watched Hillary play the political game superbly, using various strategies to garner support: too cold? Here’s some emotion, even a little tear. Need a boost? Here’s my husband. Too much husband? Watch, he’ll disappear and then change his message altogether. She’s looked at the playing field and strategized like a pro. Meanwhile, I recently heard a commentator call Obama’s strategy ‘genius’: he’s gone to each state, talked to the people, and addressed their concerns.

The audacity. The audacity to not treat the campaign trail like a chess game. The audacity to just go out and speak for what you believe in and try to get people excited about politics again. The audacity to try to bring political discourse to a higher level, one where candidates talk issues and then let the voters decide.

As a person in my thirties I’m somewhat proud of my cynicism. I’ve spent years nursing the belief that all politicians are corrupt, petty, and pandering, and my watered-down excitement and vote went to the candidate I found the least infiltrated by muck, the one the didn’t make me cringe or roll my eyes. I’ve been proud of my realism, considering myself intellectual because I’ve learned from living, proud that I no longer wear the rosy-colored glasses of youth with its naive optimism.

But watching Obama’s success has given me the audacity to hope that cynicism and realism doesn’t have to rule the political landscape. Hard work and tireless motivation for change is perhaps possible. I’m reluctant to take pride in my country, my realism tells me there is ever so much wrong with our culture and policies, but I can feel that perhaps there is a possibility that someone can restore that sense of pride, that perhaps there is the chance that I may one day look at the person in the Oval Office and feel pride, excitement, and yes — optimism. Not the optimism that comes through slogans, rhetoric, and twisting of facts and figures, but optimism that comes from feeling that we’ve somehow taken the first little step in turning the corner on sad political and cultural trends.

Pundits talk of Obama building his support from the ground up, organizing and motivating every day citizens to go out and try to change the political landscape. I can’t help but think of how America started, a nation for and by the people, the popular vote able to vie against anyone with cash and connections. Republicans have taken this to mean free market and small government; I see Obama interpreting it to mean that if you can get people to speak up and take action, they can be the ones who make changes in their community, their government.

So yeah. How dare he. How dare he threaten our hatred of our government, our feeling that the best we can do is shrug our shoulders and vote for the one who makes us cringe the least, or smugly stand back and criticize our government while we do nothing, not even vote. How dare he motivate us to leave our armchair critical narrative and put ourselves out there.

But he’s doing it. And he’s winning.