of us—Barack, me, Malia, Sasha—stood onstage at Hy-Vee Hall, I felt great, even a little chastened. Maybe, I thought to myself, everything Barack had been talking about for all those years really was possible. All those drives to Springfield, all his frustrations about not making a big enough impact, all his idealism, his unusual and earnest belief that people were capable of moving past the things that divided them, that in the end politics could work—maybe he’d been right all along.
We’d accomplished something historic, something monumental—not just Barack, not just me, but Melissa and Katie, and Plouffe, Axelrod, and Valerie, and every young staffer, every volunteer, every teacher and farmer and retiree and high schooler who stood up that night for something new.
It was after midnight when Barack and I went to the airport to leave Iowa, knowing we wouldn’t be back for months. The girls and I were headed home to Chicago, returning to work and school. Barack was flying to New Hampshire, where the primary was less than a week away.
Iowa had changed us all. Iowa had given me, in particular, real faith. Our mandate now was to share it with the rest of the country. In the coming days, our Iowa field organizers would fan out to other states—to Nevada and South Carolina, to New Mexico, Minnesota, and California—to continue spreading the message that had now been proven, that change was really possible.
This is my family, sometime around 1965, dressed up for a celebration. Note my brother Craig’s protective expression and careful hold on my wrist.
We grew up living in the apartment above my great-aunt Robbie Shields, pictured here holding me. During the years she gave me piano lessons, we had many stubborn standoffs, but she always brought out the best in me.
My father, Fraser Robinson, worked for more than twenty years for the city of Chicago, tending boilers at a water filtration plant on the lakeshore. Even as his multiple sclerosis made it increasingly difficult for him to walk, he never missed a day of work.
My dad’s Buick Electra 225—the Deuce and a Quarter, we called it—was his pride and joy and the source of many happy memories. Each summer we drove to Dukes Happy Holiday Resort in Michigan for vacation, which is where this picture was taken.
When I began kindergarten in 1969, my neighborhood on the South Side of Chicago was made up of a racially diverse mix of middle-class families. But as many better-off families moved to the suburbs—a phenomenon commonly known as “white flight”—the demographics changed fast. By fifth grade, the diversity was gone. ABOVE: My kindergarten class; I’m third row, second from right. BELOW: My fifth-grade class; I’m third row, center.
Here I am at Princeton.
I was nervous about heading off to college but found many close friends there, including Suzanne Alele, who taught me a lot about living joyfully.
For a while, Barack and I lived in the second-floor apartment on Euclid Avenue where I’d been raised. We were both young lawyers then. I was just beginning to question my professional path, wondering how to do meaningful work and stay true to my values.
Our wedding on October 3, 1992, was one of the happiest days of my life. Standing in for my father, who had passed away a year and a half earlier, Craig walked me down the aisle.
I knew early on in our relationship that Barack would be a great father. He’s always loved and devoted himself to children. When Malia arrived in 1998, the two of us were smitten. Our lives had changed forever.
Sasha was born about three years after Malia, completing our family with her chubby cheeks and indomitable spirit. Our Christmastime trips to Barack’s home state of Hawaii became an important tradition for us, a time to catch up with his side of the family and enjoy some warm weather.
Malia and Sasha’s bond has always been tight. And their cuteness still melts my heart.
I spent three years as executive director for the Chicago chapter of Public Allies, an organization devoted to helping young people build careers in public service. Here I’m pictured (on right) with a group of young community leaders at an event with Chicago mayor Richard M. Daley.
I later transitioned to working at the University of Chicago Medical Center, where I strove to improve community