But even as I took in the stately beauty of Michigan Avenue, notions of Michelle Obama were spinning around in my head. I’d flown into Midway that morning and driven down Lake Shore Drive, with William DeVaughn crooning “Be Thankful for What You Got” in the background. Obama flashed her trademark sense of humor, her long arms cutting the air, as she made her points. Now, throughout the room, some of the women were decked out in their best version of that number. Only a few weeks earlier, Obama had appeared on The View in a striking black-and-white floral dress. One of Clinton’s longtime backers appealed for unity. Clinton-turned-Obama staffer Patti Solis Doyle waved from the floor when she was introduced. They were an opulent, multiracial, mostly middle-aged bunch, in pantsuits and conservative dresses. In part to heal the intraparty rift, and in part to raise some cash, Obama was presiding over a Chicago luncheon for Democratic women. Pundits were taking whispered bets on the fate of Hillary Clinton’s female supporters. T he first time I saw Michelle Obama in the flesh, I almost took her for white.
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