'Get Your Hands Dirty In My Garden' — What Real Power Looks Like

On a breezy, sunny day last week, Michelle Obama stepped up to the podium at the John Lewis Plaza on the Obama Presidential Center campus in front of more than 6,000 attendees (including four former presidents and their partners). Thousands more gathered in Midway Plaisance Park for an outdoor watch party. 

The occasion was the dedication of the Obama Presidential Center in Chicago’s Jackson Park, located just two miles from where Michelle grew up in a two-family bungalow. The Obama Center is part of a tradition of presidential libraries that started with Franklin D. Roosevelt, who wanted a facility to house his personal papers. Every U.S. president has had one since. 

Fittingly, Michelle began her speech by talking about the people who had built the Center from the ground up, then moved on to her pride in her daughters, Sasha and Malia (now in their mid-20s!); and, of course, the accomplishments of her husband (stabilizing the economy; expanding affordable access to healthcare; winning a Nobel Peace Prize, all while keeping a cool head). 

Michelle Obama’s speech, and, more specifically, her presence and voice, seemed both understated and powerful, not unlike her habit of mixing pieces from J. Crew and Target with designer wear during her time in the White House. The speech was also a little retro, at least at the start, when she said: “I'm going to take a little time to do something that I know my husband will not do today, and that is to fully sing his praises.” Behind every great president is a good woman, and all that. 

Perhaps you heard snippets of it, or maybe you didn’t. If you fall into the latter camp, that’s understandable. After all, there are so many other, uglier, louder and, dare I say, male voices out there competing for our attention. Case in point: The UFC fighter who, on the White House lawn just a few days earlier, made a vile reference to Michelle Obama, a comment that seemed to suck up all the oxygen in the room.

But I digress.

Michelle’s words, and really, her whole being, made me wonder: Why, in a world, where decent people and ideas and values still exist, is it so hard to cut through the noise and celebrate the good around us? When did unkindness, exclusion, brutality and name calling become our default mode of being?

A 2025 survey from Gallup suggests that the vast majority of Americans are clamoring for kindness. In fact, at least three-quarters of those surveyed listed kindness, integrity, happiness and knowledge as important values to them. Another survey by the nonprofit Public Religion Research Institute found that 70% of Americans say they’d prefer that the U.S. “be a reliable neighbor that cooperates with other nations and only uses military force as a last resort” and 77% prefer that the U.S. be a nation made up of people from all over the world than of people of Western European heritage. Most Americans, it seems, would like to spend less time in the hate-o-sphere, not more. 

No waffling, coyness, or mincing of words

As I watched her speech, (via YouTube, since, alas, I wasn’t there in person), Michelle’s wifely praising of her husband made me smile. In case you hadn’t noticed, she is so not one of those “stand behind your man” women. Stand next to your man? Sure. But behind him? I don’t think so. In fact, every time she gives a speech, the speculations start flying: Will she run for President? Do you think it could happen? She’d be so good! 

What makes Michelle so refreshing is that she says the things her husband won’t (or can’t), as she did in this speech, when she referenced how Barack was in the “crucible” as the first Black president; how he was subject to slurs; to doubts about his birthright; and to constant questioning about his qualifications for the job, from both sides of the aisle.

It’s no wonder that Michelle has categorically denied rumors that she might run for president herself. America is not ready for a woman, she told the actress Tracee Ellis Ross. “We have too much growing up to do.” And you can tell that she means it. Unlike so many other politicians in the will-they-or-won’t they game, Michelle is neither cute nor coy about it. The answer is: no.

All of this brought to mind a kind of “presidential paradox,” in that the best people for the job don’t tend to run, as much as we’d like them to. 

I thought of this as I listened to Michelle praising sanitation workers and landscapers and volunteer T ball coaches and UPS drivers — a reminder to pay attention to the millions of ordinary people doing their everyday jobs looking out for everybody else and making their communities a better place. It can be hard to remember that sometimes. 

The truth of this country lies…not in grabbing as much as we can get for ourselves or knocking folks down to prop ourselves up, but in the overwhelming goodness, the relentless striving, the quiet dignity that is inside all of us.

As always, Michelle didn’t mince words or shy away from politics. She decried the dismantling of DEI; the administration’s weaponizing of ICE and the ripple effect that has had for so many along with its disregard for the financial struggles that more than half of Americans say they are now experiencing. But she did it without name calling. (Barack even cried — and good for him.) 

Remembering another White House

Michelle’s reminiscences about the White House centered around her daughters’ sleepovers with friends and chasing their dog, Bo, on the South Lawn. That was the kind of White House she wanted for the country, in tandem with her initiatives to promote higher education for all Americans; her push to make us all more healthy; her support for veterans. 

All of this was in stark contrast to the metal “claw”/ fighting ring that had until recently graced the current White House lawn. She didn’t need to mention it; the contrast was obvious.  

Hope is still possible, even now

In a world where meaningless wars grind on; where we are more likely to ignore our neighbors than smile; where news of sexual assault and gun violence can seem endless, it’s easy to despair, to feel that life’s simple pleasures and values are gone for good.

But then things happen that remind me otherwise. A knitting circle is formed to raise money for immigrant detainees; a series of protests in Georgia somehow manage to stop redistricting efforts meant to erase Black candidates — and Black votes; and a Black woman — America’s first Black first lady — reminds us that hope is still possible, even now.

Hope is all we have, because hope is the essential spark that lights the fire of change, but hope is a choice. Whether or not we use our voices to speak up is a choice. Voting is a choice. Being a decent human being is a choice. Believing that we still hold the power to build a country that reflects us all is a choice.

To me, the Obama Center — a museum, a public  library and a vast green space that is largely free and open to the public — is the epitome of hope. With its auditorium, recording studio, art collection, rooftop playground, fruit and vegetable garden and full-size basketball court — it’s designed to nurture community and family and engender plain old fun.

We want you to come here and put away your phones and talk and laugh and cry…and make new friends, get your hands dirty in my garden — put your baby on a swing in the playground, have a romantic picnic on the great lawn, because that's the work of democracy, too, being neighborly, taking care of public spaces, having some fun, enjoying each other, shaking out of the isolation and division that have crept too deeply into our lives.

Call me an unfettered optimist, but I think we do still have the power to tune out the loud, ugly voices. We have the choice, not to ignore what’s happening, exactly, but to shift our mindset ever so slightly in a new direction, one that embraces the good.

Ours is a long history of women of women stepping up — suffragists and crafting activists and “wine moms” among them. With their banners and flags and marches and pink pussy hats, they’ve given us a road map. Now, so has Michelle.

Who’s in?