When I was young, many people around me, including my father, referred to African-Americans as "colored." The word was spoken matter-of-factly, not maliciously. But the inherent connotation is one of disrespect, perhaps not actively intended but still vestigial and powerful all the same.

One of my earliest victories as a socially-conscious person was to teach my dad to, at the very least, replace that word with "black," a word preferred by the community it describes. I knew my dad to be a good-hearted man and I understood he was struggling against a lifetime of hearing the other word and accepting the inequality it implied. I was gentle but steadfast in my insistence that words matter.

Once his vocabulary changed, I began chiseling away at the prejudice I saw in both of my parents. Having taught the word, I then instructed on its irrelevance. "Not that it matters" became my mantra every time my parents made a point of someone's race. "Did you know that Susan's daughter's boyfriend is black?" Mom might ask. "Not that it matters," I would reply. Soon they were repeating this phrase themselves, with a glance in my direction, adding it to the end of their questionable comments before I could. I considered this progress, even if the acknowledgment was an afterthought. And gradually, I heard racial comments coming from them less and less.

I share this to illustrate how profound it is even to me, someone whose life never overlapped with the civil rights movement, that this country has just elected a black man. That Barack Obama would be our first African-American president did not appear on the list of reasons I voted for him. He has the potential to be a transformational leader for reasons beyond his race, and I believe his will be an historical presidency for reasons beyond his race. But clearly the fact of his race has enormous impact, and that makes me even more proud of his election. I am amazed at how far we've come, and at how long it has taken us to get here.

We're not there yet. I know that. Here in Redneck Valley, someone sprayed "KKK" on an Obama sign some weeks ago. I have a very real fear of an assassination, an event from which I don't think we could recover. Even avoiding such a horror would not mean we're healed. There will always be bigots, and there is still rampant inequality of opportunity throughout this nation.

But in the week since the election, what I'm finding most remarkable is the perspective of our youngest citizens. This article describes it, and this post is especially resonating with me, particularly this line: "I don't know if he would believe me."

To think that today's children will be incredulous at the story of slavery, are clueless to the connotation behind the word "colored"... it heartens me.

And it gives me hope that to the next generation, not allowing a person to marry whomever he or she wants will sound just as absurd. It gives me hope that we are indeed making progress toward a more perfect union.