Dreams from My Father summary

When he was just ten years old, Barry returned to Hawaii to live with Ann’s parents – initially without the rest of the family. While relieved that he would no longer be rising before dawn to study, the move meant stepping into the unfamiliar once again, this time utterly alone.

Moving in with his grandparents made Barry realize how much of his early life had been shaped by the many children that surrounded him in Indonesia. Life with Ann’s parents, Madelyn and Stanley Dunham, was marked by a quiet, solid, midwest calm that was a stark contrast to the chaos of Djakarta. 

The father of young Barry’s imagination was not the man who arrived that December in 1971. The trip to America was part of Barack Sr.’s recuperation from a serious car accident, which had left him with a pronounced limp. But with his long limbs comfortably in an armchair and his thin legs crossed, he spoke intelligently and eloquently about politics, culture, and history. Barack Sr. could elevate everyone around him, including young Barry.

As for a father-son relationship, the month-long visit was too short to forge anything but a fleeting impression. There was a certain shyness on both sides, the chasm between them considerable after a decade. Barack was impressed with Barry’s studies, but openly disdainful of other things, and authoritarian in his approach. 

A few years after Barack Sr.’s visit, Barry’s mother and baby stepsister returned to Indonesia so Ann could begin her field work there. Young Barry chose to remain with his grandparents in Hawaii, and continued to excel at Ponahou. In Hawaii, he had the chance to be immersed in a truly multicultural environment, one built on mutual respect and appreciation. His academic performance earned him a full scholarship to Occidental College. And so in 1979, he moved to Los Angeles to begin his next journey.

In Los Angeles, the mutual respect that Barry had come to expect in Hawaii was completely absent. His professors and classmates at the prestigious, liberal arts institution seemed not to notice the economic disparities and open racism that was everywhere. When he spent time with other Black students, or out in the community, he encountered open contempt for all white people, and a fatalism about being locked in an unjust system. 

Graduating from Columbia in 1983 with a double major in political science and English literature, Barack watched as his college friends took up prestigious careers in sectors like finance, while he announced a career path was in community organizing. The problem was, this wasn’t really a job category, and no one quite understood his choice.

Barack’s college friends thought of community organizing or politics as a no-win career – too much effort for too little pay off. Meanwhile, his Black friends and colleagues cautioned him about choosing a career that could very easily keep him impoverished. Without money, it was much harder to create impact, let alone lasting change.

When Barack arrived at Kenyatta International Airport, without his luggage, it was with anticipation but few expectations. His lost luggage required a visit to the office, and the clerk there had known his father during his time in Nairobi. Within minutes of arriving in Kenya, Barack experienced the first occasion that his last name brought a sense of comfort and connection, instead of highlighting his “foreignness.”

The feeling of connection only increased as he passed through customs and was greeted by an enthusiastic aunt waving from the arrivals terminal. His half-sister, Auma, was there, too. Barack had connected with her a few years earlier over the phone in New York, after the tragic death of their other half-brother in a road accident. Conversations with her had been a powerful draw for him to meet the rest of his family, and she remained beside him through the trip as interpreter, guide, and companion.