Kamala Harris US: Come November, In USA presidential election many will vote for her with a quiet wistfulness rather than ecstatic pride. I will vote for Kamala Harris wishing that I could witness her presidency without wondering what sheтАЩs had to sacrifice, or how her enforced infallibility has, like mine, threatened her survival.
On a hot, cloudy July afternoon, my husbandтАЩs phone lit up with the news: 137 days before the American Presidential election, President Joe Biden was dropping out of the race. In his resignation letter, he endorsed his Vice President, a Black, South Asian and former senator, Kamala Harris, to be his successor. Following this announcement, she quickly made history as the first BIPOC (Black, indigenous, and people of colour) woman to become the Democratic PartyтАЩs presumptive nominee.
When I heard the news, I waited for the jolt of happiness I knew I was supposed to feel тАФ for the first time in history, American not only believed that a person like me could run for President, but also that she could win.
My similarities with Vice President Harris far exceed our nearly identical Tamilian roots. WeтАЩve both been raised by immigrant mothers who were deeply invested in our political education early in our lives. WeтАЩve both obsessively climbed professional ladders, collected accolades, and surpassed expectations that were always laid too low.
WeтАЩve both developed an expertise in navigating the very systems designed to keep us down, refusing to give into the expectations that we remain silent, submissive, and scared. To see someone so aligned with who I was and what I believed in shouldтАЩve made me ecstatic. Instead, my stomach dropped with dread. Because I knew what was coming, and none of it was good.
Predictably, America responded to HarrisтАЩs nominations with a cruelty that was, for me, all too familiar. From President TrumpтАЩs insistence that Vice President Harris is тАЬnot a smart personтАЭ to the Republican partyтАЩs unyielding racist, sexist lies about her life and record, the Vice PresidentтАЩs first month of campaigning has been a pageantry of bigotry. That being said, her fans have, at times, not been much better. While covering her, the supposedly liberal press perseveres in their astonishment that a biracial woman like Harris has achieved what she has.
USA Today claims that Harris has been тАЬunderestimated at every turnтАЭ, New York Magazine declares that тАЬKamala HarrisтАЩs biographer says sheтАЩs always been underestimatedтАЭ and Vanity Fair warns тАЬUnderestimate Kamala Harris at Your Peril.тАЭ In popular culture, Maya RudolfтАЩs portrayal of Harris as a тАЬcool AuntyтАЭ combined with the recent rash of coconut tree and brat memes walk a thin line between celebrating the Vice President and questioning her seriousness, despite the fact that her evisceration of Brett Kavanaugh and sternness with Vice President Mike Pence are clear proof that Harris contains a toughness America has not seen in years.
Even at the Democratic convention, delegates yelled out тАЬKamalaтАЭ instead of тАЬVice President Harris,тАЭ as though she was a cousin or a neighbour or a drinking buddy rather than the most powerful woman in the United States. Could these people, I wonder, imagine cheering on President Obama by calling out тАЬBarackтАЭ? Of course not.
And yet, despite these indignities, Harris shows up day after day, night after night, and event after event, tempering her toughness with congenial smiles, perfectly pressed suits, and faultlessly coiffed hair. No matter what the world throws at her, she responds with firmness, poise, grace, and calm.
I may not be a Vice President, and I may not be Black, but I am a woman of colour, and I know that calm. I know what it takes to grin at an American boss who mandates that you come up with a nickname because he, unlike one billion people in India, is unable to pronounce your real one. I know what itтАЩs like to keep a neutral expression while a supervisor calls you тАЬentitledтАЭ for asking for pay commensurate with your White, male colleagues. And I know what itтАЩs like to remain composed when, in response to an opinion expressed in a calm and quiet tone, a stranger, friend, or family member says, тАЬCalm down! Why are you always so angry?тАЭ
Like I said, I know that calm. I also know the cost of it.
For most of my life, I grew up being told that being born in the United States was a gift I didnтАЩt deserve. In return for this opportunity, I was expected to keep my head down, work hard, overachieve, and never complain. I wasnтАЩt allowed to make mistakes, nor ask for help. Despite the impossibility of this ask, for four decades, I did what was expected, rocketing through life on a stream of fellowships, awards, and honours, building myself a vibrant social life, and maintaining a thoroughly researched and highly demanding parenting practice. I did it all, never a hair out of place or a crack in my fa├зade, never allowing myself even a hint of a frown.
During the pandemic, I broke. No matter how hard I tried, I couldnтАЩt keep being everyoneтАЩs rock. I couldnтАЩt keep doing it all, and I certainly couldnтАЩt keep overachieving. Exhausted, I watched my career slip through my fingers, my friendships fade, my relationships suffer. When even parenting became too much to bear, I finally sought help тАУ real help тАУ for the first time in my life. I got on medication. I got into therapy. While some of my issues can be attributed to genetics, my therapist tells me, more of them can be attributed to simply living as a BIPOC woman in a country that expects so much more of me than my White, male peers.
A country that, now, expects this of Vice President Harris.
Which is why, come November, I will vote for her with a quiet wistfulness rather than ecstatic pride. I will vote for her wishing that I could witness her presidency without wondering what sheтАЩs had to sacrifice, or how her enforced infallibility has, like mine, threatened her survival. I will vote for her wishing that her term could be an opportunity for her to be tender and circumspect and vulnerable and flawed, all while embracing her Blackness and her Brownness with honesty and joy. Because if President Harris could do it, then maybe, just maybe, so could I.
In the end, my hope for Vice President Harris is greater than my fear. But that doesnтАЩt mean that the next few months тАУ and, fingers crossed, the next eight years тАУ will be easy for her or for people like me, who will witness her battle a system whose brutality we know so well. I wonтАЩt give up on Harris, just like I wonтАЩt give up on my country, or a world where Brown and Black women have never shied away from the battle for our humanity. I just hope that HarrisтАЩs presidency is a battle that, at long last, wins the war.
