Today is my birthday. It is also Abraham Lincoln’s birthday.
Every year, I pause on this shared date; not because I compare myself to President Lincoln, but because I ground myself in the weight of leadership during difficult times.
Lincoln led our nation when it was tearing itself apart. The divisions were not subtle. They were not rhetorical. They were violent, personal, and existential. States were seceding. Families were divided. Trust was fractured. The very future of the Union was uncertain. Sound familiar?
We, too, are living in a politically divisive and anxious time. The noise is loud. The temperature is high. Many Americans are weary. Many are frustrated. Many are losing hope.
As our nation approaches 250 years of independence, we must remember that the reason we will celebrate at all is because courageous, empathetic, and humble leadership held this country together when it could have fallen apart.
Lincoln was not perfect. He was criticized relentlessly. He carried the unbearable weight of war. Yet he led with resolve and restraint. With conviction and compassion. With moral clarity and deep humility. He preserved the Union.
And in one of the most consequential acts in American history, he issued the Emancipation Proclamation; setting in motion the freedom of enslaved Black Americans. Before his life was cut short, he publicly supported voting rights for Black soldiers who fought to defend the nation.
That is why February, Black History Month, carries special meaning for me.
As an immigrant from Lagos, Nigeria, who became an American citizen and now serves as the first elected Black and immigrant mayor of Colorado Springs, I am keenly aware that my story did not happen by accident.
It was made possible by sacrifice. By moral courage. By leaders who chose unity over division. By Americans — Black and white — who believed this nation could become more just than it was.
The arc from slavery to suffrage to representation is not abstract to me. It is personal.
I stand on the shoulders of those who were denied freedom, denied dignity, denied the right to vote; and yet refused to give up on America.
We are living in a divisive time once again. Colorado Springs is not immune to the tensions of our era. The rhetoric is sharp. The ideological lines feel deep. Many people are frustrated. Many are anxious. Many are tired. But history reminds us that America has endured harder seasons than this.
The reason we will celebrate 250 years as a nation and 150 years of Colorado’s statehood, is not because we avoided conflict; it is because courageous leadership carried us through it. There is no celebration without good leadership.
Leadership does not erase disagreement; it steadies people through it. Leadership does not inflame fear; it anchors hope. Leadership does not exploit division; it works to bridge it.
On this birthday, I feel both gratitude and responsibility. Gratitude for the opportunity to live the American Dream; to come from another continent and serve this great city. And responsibility to lead in a way that honors the sacrifices that made that dream possible.
Therefore, I recommit myself to leadership rooted in courage, empathy, and humility. To seeking understanding over making noise. To building bridges where others see walls. To reminding our community that we are stronger together than apart.
Colorado Springs is a city of great neighbors and great neighborhoods. We are capable of a third way. We are capable of disagreeing without dehumanizing. We are capable of debate without division.
So today, I choose hope. Not naïve optimism; but grounded hope “that does not disappoint.” The kind that history justifies. The kind that says we have been here before, and we made it through. And we will again.
And today, in honor of my birthday, the only gift I ask of you is this: hope with me. Hope for your nation. Hope for your state. Hope for your city. Hope for your neighborhoods. Hope for your families.
Onward and upward,
Blessing “Yemi” Mobolade
Mayor of Colorado Springs