SONITA R. MOSS 4. THE MAGIC OF MICHELLE An Intersectional Analysis of the (Black) First Lady It’s November 4, 2008. I’m at work, wearing an apron and a University of Michigan hat. I’m the shift manager of what is essentially a junk food store located inside of a dormitory. It’s evening, and although the store is supposed to close at 1 a.m., my coworkers and I begin shutting down the store early. The election results are finalizing, and my cell phone begins vibrating in earnest: he did it, he won, can you believe? “BARACK OBAMA IS THE PRESIDENT! OUR PRESIDENT IS BLACK!” My co-worker, another Black college student, is also eager to join the hullabaloo on campus. Hordes of students have taken to the street, laughing, hugging, crying, and high-fiving one another. Strangers became friends as we celebrate what so many thought was impossible. As I hugged acquaintances and jumped in glee, I couldn’t help but remember that in addition to becoming the leader of the Free World, he was ushering three beautiful Black women into the White House with him; two small girls and his wife, the tremendous Michelle Obama. She was not just the First Lady, she was the First Black First Lady. She was our First Lady. I was in awe of her beauty, grace, and accomplishments. As a young undergraduate with my eye on becoming a professor, I admired the ambitious mother and wife who had conquered the Ivy Leagues. The night of Barack’s victory, she wore a stunning black and red dress, and I felt like I knew her. Mrs. Obama was my fictive kin, but she could be my kin. Like my mother, she hails from the south side of Chicago. She, too, is the ancestor of enslaved Africans brought to America. And she is, of course, her ancestors’ wildest dreams because of all that she has accomplished. She came from a working-class family and worked so hard that she was, at one time, her future husband’s boss. Later, she would become the American version of royalty. Michelle is not notable simply because she married the first Black president. She is notable because in addition to her many accomplishments, she became the First Lady and transgressed obstacles that limit Black women’s access to the fullness of womanhood, and indeed, humanity. The tables were turned, irrevocably. Future First Ladies will pale in comparison, © KONINKLIJKE BRILL NV, LEIDEN, 2018 | DOI:10.1163/9789004381711_004 S. R. MOSS no pun intended. Rather than being overlooked because of her Blackness, the world was required to acknowledge her title as First Lady. While the title and position is arguably sexist and part of a political economy which extracts more from its bearer than it grants, Michelle stopped the world when she reluctantly stepped into the role. And she dazzled us, inspired, and reminded so many Black girls of our own possibility. Michelle is Magic. Although multitudes of Black women persist in politics as activists and organizers, leaders, and resisters, there are few who are formally involved in the highest ranks of the U.S. political structure. In 2018, only twenty Black women occupy positions in Congress. Save for Shirley Chisholm, not a single Black woman has been a prominent presidential candidate (Nittle, 2016). Knowing this truth is a burden that makes it difficult to envision a Black woman in the United States as the standard bearer for power. However, cultural images are a bridge to illuminate political imaginaries. Mediated narratives can bring us closer than we ever dared to Black women as presidents, dignitaries, and CEOs. There is Shonda Rhimes, the visionary, and Kerry Washington, the ingénue, to thank for success of Olivia Pope, the protagonist in the television show Scandal. Pope is loosely based on attorney Judy Smith, a crisis management expert who worked with the Bush Administration. The fictional Washington D.C. “Fixer” is engaged in a tumultuous relationship with the president and a power struggle with a top-secret governmental organization run by her father. Scandal is pure melodrama in which Pope, her associates and her rivals bribe, extort, kidnap and murder for power. Melodrama aside, admiration for the Pope’s power, beauty, and cunning has enraptured audiences for seven seasons. Further, Pope’s appeal is tied to her exceptionality; Pope is first Black woman lead character in a network drama series since Julia in 1968. She is also one of the only representations of a Black woman in power in the state capitol. While we can say that Olivia is our fictional home girl, Michelle Obama is a real life, living breathing testament to a powerful Black woman within the walls of the most powerful place on Earth: The White House. For eight years, Michelle was not simply the First Lady, like Laura Bush and Hillary Clinton, or even the iconic Jackie O. She was our First Lady. Michelle, whom President Barack Obama affectionately referred to as “girl of the South Side” as he wiped tears from his eyes during his farewell address, is our Black Girl Magic. Black Girl Magic, a term coined by Auntie Peebz, is referential to the resilience of Black women who have long been forced to make lemonade out of lemons (Peebz, 2017). Michelle Obama embodies Black Girl Magic, and her role as the first Black First Lady amplified that. This historic position 56.