Culture Diary: Kamala Harris and Sweeping Those Tiny Shards of Glass Under the Rug
This weekend marked the end of a historic (and harrowing) election. Democrats (and reasonable people) everywhere breathed a sigh of exhausted relief on Saturday when the race was finally called for Joe Biden and Kamala Harris. I was in the middle of grocery shopping. I restrained myself from doing a celebratory dance in the bread aisle.
Joe Biden was not my preferred candidate. Neither was Kamala Harris, though she was a close second to my fave, Elizabeth Warren, early in the primaries. But watching his victory speech, as well as his childlike wonder at the entire occasion, endeared him to me. I mean, also, he’s the alternative to a literal garbage dump of a person, so he doesn’t need to do much at this point.
There were a few reasons this election was historic: it took place in the midst of a global pandemic; there was a record turnout of voters; most voting took place by mail; and finally, a woman reached the highest office a woman has reached in American history. And she’s a Black, Asian-American daughter of immigrants—her mother Tamil Indian and her father Jamaican—to boot. That’s a BIG FUCKING DEAL.
So why do I feel like it’s not being celebrated as much as it should be? Granted, I haven’t been reading every news story. I know Harris’ achievement has…
