A Black Woman's Open Letter To Kamala Harris

Vice President Kamala Harris delivers a concession speech after the presidential election, Nov. 6, 2024, on the campus of Howard University in Washington, D.C.
Vice President Kamala Harris delivers a concession speech after the presidential election, Nov. 6, 2024, on the campus of Howard University in Washington, D.C. Jacquelyn Martin via Associated Press

Thisweek,the good guys suffered a major setback.

A lightning bolt of energy was set off when a Black and South Asian woman stepped up to make a last-second Hail Mary. When the game seemed lost, she gave us her best heave, and as the ball left her hands, we all gasped and held our breath.

There was hope. And she gave it to us. All that was left to do was pray that the good guys ― we, the people — would be ready and waiting with hands outstretched. That we’d catch her pass in the end zone and bring home a hard-fought victory.

But alas, we dropped the ball.

It hurts. We are hurting. And there’s every reason to do so, especially at the thought of being forced to return to an all-too-recent past, whether that be 2016 or 1933. Still, I can’t help but look at what Harris did and think: Damn, was that a hell of a pass.

It was a tough goal. A long shot. In the end, it was far from perfect, but it was still a flea-flicker of hope. And for that hope, I would like to say to Vice President Kamala Harris: Thank you.

Thank you, Kamala, for playing so hard. For taking over when President Biden could run no further. For taking this loss for the Democratic Party, and maybe being positioned as the sacrificial lamb, as Black and brown women usually are. Thank you for showing us that there are still capable leaders at this level of politics, and that while the future has not come today, there is still reason to believe it will arrive one of these tomorrows. 

Throughout this process, I’ve remained angry at Democrats’ nearsighted tactics that, in my view, prioritized reelection bids over a better future for all of us. But still, even through my antipathy, there were times when I couldn’t help but smile.

Like when I saw Kamala flashing the signature pinky of Alpha Kappa Alpha Sorority, Inc.

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When I saw her smile widen as she would call out “H-U!” in the middle of a speech ― shouting out her alma mater, Howard University ― and the answer would ring back from the crowd: “You know!”

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When I heard that infectious and joyful laugh as she created new inside jokes with her little sister.

Time and again, watching Vice President Harris, I found my stoic cynicism cracking into a genuine smile. Because although she was VP, senator, attorney general of the most populous state in the country, and the face of the ever-frustrating Democratic Party, the first and last thing I saw, whenever I looked at her, was a Black woman. The same as my aunt, my best friend’s mother, one of our thousands of play sisters. Shining on that national stage, draped in the dignity the world so often tries to deny us, was a Black woman.

I was proud of her. And I remain proud to have witnessed her.

She was not perfect. But perhaps it is unfair that we ask her to be, when the other choice is a man whom none of us would leave our daughters alone with. She was more than qualified, and far more than worthy of leading us as the first woman ever elected president of the United States of America.

Madame President. Mmm. Maybe one day soon.

Nevertheless, I don’t think this loss is about Vice President Kamala Harris as much as it is about the flaws of the Democratic Party. I know a lot of you would disagree, remaining convinced that this loss is about racism, and misogyny, and bigotry first emboldened and now running rampant.

And you’re right. That’s all true, too. 

But despite the darkness, despite underwhelming voter turnout in an exhausting election cycle, I truly believe that pound for pound, body for body, the good guys do outnumber the bad guys. And if we wish to prevail in the long run, this moment must be about us.

The silver lining I choose to see is that now, we have an opportunity to make our party into one that is truly for the people. The legacy runners are gone. There is no Clinton, no leftovers from Obama. The chance for a Bernie Sanders Cinderella story has long passed. The window is open. When we return, the candidates of the next primary cycle will have the best chance since 2008 to start anew, and stand for progressive change that propels our country into the future.

So where do we go from here? Onward. We do not yield.

As VP Harris said: “While I concede this election, I do not concede the fight that fueled this campaign. The fight for freedom, for opportunity, for fairness and the dignity of all people. A fight for the ideals at the heart of our nation. The ideals that reflect America at our best. That is a fight I will never give up.” And neither will we.

This country belongs to all of us. This land is fertilized with the blood of our ancestors, whether they be African or Indigenous or any of the other peoples whose histories may have been stricken from the record by the men who declared themselves victors. And for those ancestors, for our children, we will not yield. 

So, we hold our posts. We stay in line. Four hundred years is a long time, but we hold faith in the fact that the future will always be infinite.

But if we’ve lost you, if you no longer believe that hope for the future is worth fighting for ― then submit your name to the headstone mason, and we will add it to the list of those we mourn when we recall all that we’ve lost in this fight for freedom.

As for the rest of us, let us march on till victory is won. And may our efforts be enshrined on the trophy that our children one day hoist.