The joys, challenges, and revelations of parenting in the Kamala era
Vice President Kamala Harris greets local union members and their families at International Brotherhood of Electrical Workers (IBEW) Local 9 in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania on September 2, 2024. (Andrew Caballero Reynolds/AFP via Getty Images)
When Vice President Kamala Harris held her first rally as a Democratic presidential candidate, my husband and I watched our daughters walk into the room. They could see how excited we were as we stood near the TV, hands clasped tightly, tears in our eyes. They asked us who she was, and we told them, “That’s Kamala Harris,” and she would be our nation’s first female president. ”
“She looks like me,” said my 6-year-old daughter, who was born to a Nigerian-American father and a white mother.
My life’s work at Vote Run Lead Action is to get more women elected to political office, and Harris has become a staple of household conversations thanks to her constant presence on our television screens. Her big moments, including announcing her candidacy, giving her acceptance speech at the Democratic National Convention, and making decisive moves during the presidential debates, were also big moments in my household. Therefore, my daughters, who are 3 and 6 years old, have organically developed their own perception of Kamala.
It all started with an instant recognition of someone who looked like us. Over time, they began to find other points of contact. Like Harris, my children must navigate what it means to be mixed race while finding their own identities. The other day, my daughter Ebere heard me correcting someone when they mispronounced “kamala.” “KAH-muh-luh,” she heard me say. Just like my husband and I often correct people when they say our daughter’s name incorrectly: “It’s pronounced Eh-beh-leh.” These similarities are one of the ways we’ve talked about Harris with our two daughters.
To her daughters, Harris is a typical American, not an anomaly.
My daughters are too young to understand what’s at stake in an election that could lead to the first female president, but they pick up on their parents’ enthusiasm and naturally connect with them. I’m old enough to feel it. When they see Harris’ mixed-race family on the campaign trail, they feel proud and even happy. Ebele now tends to chant “Ka Mala, Ka Mala, Ka Mala” whenever she sees the American flag. To her daughters, Harris is a typical American, not an anomaly.
Telling your kids about Kamala Harris is ultimately also telling them about Donald Trump. My daughter asked me the other day if I “hated” Trump. This teaches children that no matter what differences we may have, based on identity, political affiliation, worldview, etc., everyone has a place in this country and should strive to find common ground. This was an opportunity to emphasize this. As Harris says, there is far more that unites us than divides us.
I’ve seen how talking about Harris and that connection expands my daughters’ ideas about who can be president, who can be on TV, and what women can accomplish. These conversations that we have had as a family are important to me and others in society as we move closer to the outcome of the election and are forced to question our own ideas about what is possible. They often reflect conversations you’ve had with other adults.
On the way home from the Democratic National Convention, I sat with two white men who were deeply passionate about Kamala. Their energy excited me, but their questions quickly turned pessimistic. How will she handle a direct confrontation with President Trump? Was she up to the challenge?
I can’t hear the panicked whispers of, “Is this country ready for a female president?” already. It feels normal.
Instead of getting irritated with them, I started enumerating who she truly was. They include the district attorney of a major city in the United States, the attorney general of the nation’s most populous state, a senator from that same state, and our current vice president. However, he notices that one of them has a baseball cap in his bag and decides to speak his language. Think of her as an experienced athlete in hot pursuit in the playoffs. She adapts to the challenges each successive round brings and continues to rise to the moment until she wins the championship. I think it went well…
I am naively optimistic about where this country stands, as Harris and other women candidates of color across the country regularly face misogyny and racism on the campaign trail. I don’t want to be. We have work to do to examine personal biases, dismantle institutionalized racism and sexism, and redefine what it means for women to hold political power. There is no doubt that there are many. That is exactly why I have dedicated my life to this fight.
But what we’re hearing about Harris feels very different from the collective conversation about Hillary Clinton in 2016. I can’t hear the panicked whispers of, “Is this country ready for a woman president?” already. It feels normal.
Maybe it’s too normal. When I was displaying my daughter’s work in the window of our house, my 3-year-old daughter said, “That’s not a Kamala sign,” and shook her head in disapproval. For now, only “Kamala” can be seen on the windows of the house, and the art has returned to the refrigerator.
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