by Obama Barack
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My maternal grandparents were from Kansas and eloped just ahead of the bombing of Pearl Harbor. He served in Patton’s army, and she worked on a bomber assembly line.
When you grow up in Hawaii, hikes through mountain forests and lazy days at the beach are a birthright—as easy as stepping out your front door.
I’m clearly proud of my swing.
My father, Barack Obama, Sr., grew up in Kenya and studied economics at the University of Hawaii, where he met my mother, and at Harvard. After they divorced, he returned to Africa.
My mother, Ann Dunham, rebelled against convention, but she was also suspicious of platforms or absolutes. “The world is complicated, Bar,” she told me. “That’s why it’s interesting.”
My mother with my half sisters, Maya Soetoro-Ng (left) and Auma Obama.
My grandmother and I with my mother the day she got her degree in anthropology from the University of Hawaii.
At our wedding. We missed having Michelle’s father and Gramps there, but on that day, I felt like the luckiest man alive.
My joys.
Delivering an old-school soapbox speech in Chillicothe, Illinois, early in my U.S. Senate campaign.
Looking impossibly young while delivering the keynote address at the 2004 Democratic National Convention in Boston. This was probably the last day I was able to walk into a public space unrecognized.
With Michelle after my DNC speech.
After the convention, Michelle and I and the girls set out for a weeklong RV trip in downstate Illinois. It was the girls’ first real taste of the campaign trail.
Election night, 2004. We won by the biggest margin of any Senate race in Illinois history. The girls were more enthralled by the confetti.
I was elected to the U.S. Senate on November 2, 2004.
As a rookie senator, I persuaded Pete Rouse to come on as my chief of staff. He was a godsend—vastly experienced, unfailingly decent, and known around town as “the 101st senator.”
When I arrived in Washington, I was ninety-ninth in seniority, and my temporary office showed it. But with a great team around me, I was able to hit the ground running.
As a member of the Congressional Black Caucus, I got to work alongside a hero of mine, Representative John Lewis.
On my first official overseas trip as a senator, in August 2005, I toured a conventional weapons destruction facility in Donetsk, Ukraine, with Republican senator Dick Lugar.
During a trip to Kenya in August 2006, Michelle and I wanted to help draw attention to rapid HIV testing by getting tests ourselves. People lined the roads to greet us.
I announced my candidacy for president on February 10, 2007. It was freezing in Springfield, but I barely felt it. I sensed we were tapping into something essential and true about America.
I missed out on a lot of time with the girls while campaigning. But a day at the Iowa State Fair, with games and snacks and bumper cars? Can’t beat that.
Campaigning in Austin, Texas. I had become an outsized symbol of hope, a vessel for a million different dreams, and I worried that a time would come when I would disappoint my supporters.
Storming into Tom Harkin’s Annual Steak Fry in 2007 with a bunch of my field organizers. So much of our success in Iowa was due to those unstoppable young staffers and volunteers.
Less than a month before the Iowa caucus, we held a rally in Des Moines. With Oprah there to introduce me, we had a pretty good turnout.
With the architect of my campaign, David Plouffe, right before I went onstage to accept the Democratic nomination. Beneath his low-key persona, he was a brilliant strategist.
On July 24, 2008, I gave a speech at the Victory Column in Berlin, declaring that, just as an earlier generation had torn down the wall that had once divided Europe, it was our job to tear down other, less visible walls between classes, races, and religions.
John McCain and I took a break from campaigning to pay our respects in New York City on September 11, 2008. Within days, the big banks, many of them headquartered only a few blocks away, would begin to collapse.
That same month, as the economy was in free fall, McCain asked President Bush to assemble congressional leaders from both parties at the White House to try to strike a deal on a rescue package.
David Axelrod wasn’t just a skilled strategist but a kindred spirit. We started working together in 2002, when I faced long odds in my Senate campaign, and he became one of my most trusted advisors. Meanwhile, Marvin Nicholson (back right), my unflappable trip director, had an easy charm and took care of every detail.
Campaigning in the rain in Fredericksburg, Virginia, with less than six weeks to go until the election.
Our biggest rally was on October 19, when I spoke at the Gateway Arch in St. Louis, Missouri. About a hundred thousand people showed up.
Sitting next to Marian Robinson, my mother-in-law, watching the election night returns. “This is kind of too much,” she said to me. I knew what she meant.
On election night, more than two hundred thousand people came to Chicago’s Grant Park to celebrate. Malia was worried that nobody would show up because there weren’t any cars on the road.
My favorite photograph from that night is this one, of people gathered on the steps of the Lincoln Memorial, listening to my acceptance speech on a transistor radio.
Just before walking out to take the oath of office, I summoned a prayer.
I took the oath on the same Bible Abraham Lincoln used for his swearing in on March 4, 1861.
A sea of Americans. When their flags waved in the sun, it looked like an ocean current. I promised myself I’d give them my best.
Walking the inaugural parade route. As always, Michelle stole the show.
My first day sitting at the Resolute desk—a gift from Queen Victoria in 1880, carved from the hull of a British ship that a U.S. whaling crew helped salvage from catastrophe.
The best part of any day was when the girls would stop by.
Rahm letting me know that the House had just passed a landmark climate bill. My chief of staff lived for days like this, when we scored a clear win.
A marathon Sunday session with my economic team, including (from left) Larry Summers, Tim Geithner, and Christy Romer.
Senate Majority Leader Harry Reid and I hit it off early on. Despite our differences in age and experience, we both had the sense that we had overcome long odds.
Even as we navigated the pressures of those first months in the White House, Michelle and I could always make each other laugh. And having our friend and senior advisor Valerie Jarrett close by made everything easier.
Bo showed up at the White House ready to explore. He was a gift from Ted and Vicki Kennedy and instantly made the place more of a home.
Touring the Pyramids of Giza offered a humbling reminder that this world endures long after we’re gone.
Palestinians in Gaza watching me speak in Cairo on June 4, 2009. During the campaign, I’d pledged to deliver an address to the world’s Muslims, believing that acknowledging the sources of tension between the West and the Muslim world would be a first step toward peaceful coexistence.
Congratulating Sonia Sotomayor just before she officially became a Supreme Court justice. I believed that her life experiences gave her a fuller understanding of the real-world context of the Court’s decisions.
Denis McDonough was one of my closest advisors on foreign policy and a good friend. He sweated the details; volunteered for the most difficult, thankless tasks; and could not be outworked.
/> French president Nicolas Sarkozy and German chancellor Angela Merkel—two leaders who couldn’t be more temperamentally different—at the G8 Summit in July 2009.
Ben Rhodes started out as my National Security Council speechwriter and proved vital. I could count on him to turn in a draft speech that not only captured my voice but channeled my worldview.
A visit to Vladimir Putin’s dacha included a long monologue by our host, chronicling every perceived injustice, betrayal, and slight that he and the Russian people had suffered at the hands of the arrogant Americans.
The girls made every trip they joined better. Here’s eight-year-old Sasha strolling through the Kremlin like a pint-sized secret agent in a trench coat.
My “body man” Reggie Love and I took it upon ourselves to help coach Sasha’s fourth-grade basketball team. When the Vipers won the championship in an 18–16 nail-biter, we celebrated like it was the NCAA finals.
With press secretary Robert Gibbs (center), whose smart-aleck humor and keen instincts often saved the day, and Reggie Love, who never took it easy on me on the basketball court.
Stealing a moment to read. The quiet never lasted long.
Part of the argument I made to Michelle before running for president was that if I pulled it off, kids all over the world would see themselves and their possibilities differently. And that alone would be worth it.
I can still hear Bob Dylan reworking a stirring version of “The Times They Are a-Changin’ ” before shaking my hand and vanishing without a word.
At Dover Air Force Base with Attorney General Eric Holder (far right) for the dignified transfer of eighteen Americans who had died in Afghanistan. It was rare for presidents to attend transfers, but I thought it was important that a commander in chief reckon with the true cost of war.
Announcing our troop deployment to Afghanistan at West Point on December 1, 2009. Sending more young people to war was one of the hardest decisions I had to make as president.
I first met Sergeant First Class Cory Remsburg in Normandy, several weeks before he headed to his tenth deployment in Afghanistan. By coincidence, I encountered him again at the Bethesda Naval Hospital, after he’d been severely injured by an IED. Over the years, we visited and stayed in touch.
Meeting some of our brave young men and women in Afghanistan in March 2010. They inspired me so much.
Members of my national security team at West Point. The hours we spent debating the deployment plan forced us to refine America’s strategic objectives in Afghanistan in a way that prevented mission creep.
Queen Elizabeth II embodied the special relationship between the United States and the United Kingdom, and Michelle and I always loved spending time with her.
With President Hu Jintao at the Great Hall of the People in Beijing.
Going over my address to a joint session of Congress on healthcare reform with speechwriter Jon Favreau. I could be a demanding editor.
Standing in the Roosevelt Room with Joe Biden and my staff on March 21, 2010, as the Affordable Care Act secured the votes to pass. I thought about my mom, who’d died of cancer, and all the Americans like her who’d needed this for so long.
Celebrating the passage of the Affordable Care Act with Secretary of Health and Human Services Kathleen Sebelius and Speaker Nancy Pelosi, the toughest, most skilled legislative strategist I’ve met.
Getting a briefing on the Deepwater Horizon disaster during a trip to the Gulf Coast. U.S. Coast Guard commandant Admiral Thad Allen (seated, left) and EPA administrator Lisa Jackson (far right) were essential members of the team managing our response to the oil spill.
A swing-set summit with eleven-year-old Malia, who was always full of questions. Here, she’s asking me about the oil spill.
Serving on the National Security Council, with a focus on atrocity prevention and human rights, Samantha Power was a close friend—and a temperature check on my conscience.
I didn’t feel that I deserved to be in the company of the transformative figures who’d been given the Nobel Peace Prize. Instead, I saw the prize as a call to action.
With Joe on my way to sign Dodd-Frank, our Wall Street reform bill, into law. I kept my word and made sure he was always the last voice in the room. In return I received wise counsel—and found another brother.
August 31, 2010: About to announce the end of combat operations in Iraq from the same desk where President Bush announced their beginning. A long time coming, but a promise kept.
May 1, 2011: With my national security team, watching as Navy SEALs raided Osama bin Laden’s compound. It was the first and only time as president that I watched a military operation unfold in real time.
Dining at the presidential palace in New Delhi with Prime Minister Manmohan Singh, a thoughtful and uncommonly decent man.
President Mahmoud Abbas, President Hosni Mubarak, and Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu checking their watches to see if the sun had officially set. It was the Muslim month of Ramadan, and we had to be sure the fast had been lifted before sitting down to dinner.
Preparing to face the press corps the day after the Democrats were routed in the 2010 midterms.
I treasured any time I got with my family. A visit to the Christ the Redeemer statue in Rio de Janeiro turned out to be magical.
For eight years the walk down the West Colonnade framed my day—a minute-long, open-air commute from home to office and back again.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
THIS BOOK INVOLVED the behind-the-scenes work of many diligent people to whom I am enormously grateful:
My longtime editor at Crown, Rachel Klayman, has stayed the course with me for sixteen years now, bringing her keen intellect, sound judgment, and ferocious eye for detail to every line I publish. Her generosity, forbearance, and dedication have made all the difference. Every author should be so fortunate.
Sara Corbett added editorial expertise and creative vision to this project, coordinating our team, editing multiple drafts, and making critically helpful suggestions throughout. She’s also been full of wisdom, encouragement, and good cheer, and made this a far better book than it otherwise would be.
Cody Keenan, who helped me pen some of the best-known speeches of my career, remained a valuable collaborator over the past three years, conducting background interviews, helping to organize my thinking on the book’s structure, and contributing thoughtfully to my work in innumerable ways.
Ben Rhodes was not only present for many of the moments described in this book but also supplied key editorial and research support for each draft. More important, our countless hours of conversation and years of friendship have helped to shape many of the insights contained in these pages.
Samantha Power offered rigorous, intelligent, and incredibly useful feedback throughout. I’m thankful for both her integrity and her intensity: She makes me better as a person and better on the page.
I owe a special debt of gratitude to Meredith Bohen, who applied scrupulous standards and an extraordinary work ethic to this endeavor, providing critical research and fact-checking from beginning to end. She was backed up by the considerable talents of Julie Tate and Gillian Brassil, for whose contributions I am also thankful.
Everything I do is fueled by the skill, hard work, and good humor of the smart and energetic people on my staff, many of whom have been by my side for years: Anita Decker Breckenridge worked hard to protect the sanctity of my writing hours and ably steered us through the publishing process. Henock Dory has given to this book in countless ways and with unfailing professionalism, tracking every detail and keeping me moving forward. Emily Blakemore, Graham Gibson, Eric Schultz, Katie Hill, Addar Levi, Dana Remus, and Caroline Adler Morales also hel
ped shepherd us to publication. Thanks as well to Joe Paulsen, Joelle Appenrodt, Kevin Lewis, Desiree Barnes, Greg Lorjuste, Michael Brush, and Kaitlin Gaughran.