En su libro Dreams from my father, Barack Obama narra la primera vez que dio un discurso, cuando era estudiante universitario. Se trató de una puesta en escena, una representación en la que lo bajarían a la fuerza del escenario mientras se pronunciaba sobre el appartheid en Sudáfrica.  

"I was still in that trancelike state when I mounted the stage. For I don't know how long, I just stood there, the sun in my eyes, the crowd of a few hundred restless after lunch. A couple of students were throwing a Frisbee on the lawn; others were standing off to the side, ready to break off to the library at any moment. Without waiting for a cue, I stepped up to the microphone.

"There's a struggle going on," I said. My voice barely carried beyond the first few rows. A few people looked up, and I waited for the crowd to quiet.

"I say, there's a struggle going on!"

The Frisbee players stopped.

"It's happening an ocean away. But it's a struggle that touches each and every one of us. Whether we want it or not. A struggle that demands we choose sides. Not between black and white. Not between rich and poor. No -it's a harder choice than that. It's a choice between dignity and servitude. Between fairness and injustice. Between commitment and indifference. A choice between right and wrong..."

I stopped. The crowd was quiet now, watching me. Somebody started to clap. "Go on with it Barack," somebody else shouted. "Tell it like it is." Then the others started in, clapping, cheering, and I knew that I had them, that the connection had been made..."