Howard University bore witness to a nearly desolate scene, signaling the end to an ill-fated presidential endeavor. Kamala Harris, keeping hope aloft a tad too long, finally saw her feeble 2024 Presidential bid conclude one fine November afternoon on Howard’s grassy Yard, in Washington, D.C. Hours earlier, anticipations had fizzled as the Election Night party had dissolved without resolution.
The mood was rather sombre, a sharp divergence from the pleasant eighty-degree November weather. Eyes of her schoolmates and neighborhood locals alike were pinned on the grounds near Frederick Douglass Hall, where they begrudgingly gathered to observe the death knell of their misplaced faith in her campaign.
Attendees like Joanna Blotner, who hails from the neighborhood, were there clinging onto remnants of the optimism that slowly, but surely, seemed to be vanishing. Amid the crowd, a computer science major from Howard named Jacob Robertson declared, ‘I just wanted to see what she has to say,’ highlighting the bewildered expectancy hanging over the crowd.
Few were in the mood to pinpoint faults, most shying away from placing the blame on Harris for the disastrous result. Christine Frye expressed regret, ‘I do wish Biden had stepped down sooner,’ subtly insinuating the lack of leadership that marred the campaign inundated by vague policy promises, particularly regarding family paid leave.
Bryan Hum, a D.C. resident, shared a sentiment of sympathy, ‘I can’t imagine how difficult this is for her,’ underscoring the palpable disappointment lacing the air. Despite the grim atmosphere, Hum and others rallied to show support as they believed themselves an island in a sea of indifference.
The triumph of Donald Trump forces us to contemplate that the visible indicators of Biden’s dwindling appeal tugged at inescapable threads of Harris’s ultimate defeat. As Biden abandoned his reelection bid on July 20th, any optimism that a viable alternative to Trump would emerge quickly seemed wholly farfetched.
Harris’s hundred-and-seven-day campaign, looking in retrospect, appears as merely a hiccup in a race largely dictated by forces outside her control. The formulation of public sentiment had been long underway before her campaign’s initiation, making her efforts equivalent to rearranging deck chairs on the titanic.
Harris’s undeniable charisma and timing did little to mask the hollowness of her campaign. Despite a campaign defined by its lack of content than by its articulation, her charm gave the appearance of having the room’s attention. However, this facade rapidly crumbled under the weight of her unwillingness to truly connect with her audience.
Her reluctance to share her experiences as a multi-racial woman, led to a perceived disconnect and a certain withholding of self. The deliberate evasion of specific references to common peoples’ challenges further emphasized her lack of touch with the masses and their problems.
Still, the naive hopefulness of some young attendees remained unfazed by the apparent debacle. Maya Blackston, a freshman at Howard, was insistent, ‘I honestly feel like she did as much as she could do.’ Perhaps encapsulating the youthful naivety that oversaw the sinking ship from the comfort of the shore.
Blackston’s aspiring buoyancy prevailed, attributing the failure to the masses, ‘we kind of failed her as a country.’ Her friend Nya Young chimed in with the hypothetical scenario that with ‘more time,’ the outcome would have notably been ‘way different.’ Illustrated here is the classic hope over experience conundrum associated with youthful exuberance.
In quite the twist of irony, Blackston remarks that she would miss seeing Harris on the television, describing her energy as ‘bright’ and ‘vibrant.’ The stark contrast between this fictitious depiction of Harris and the reality of the campaign’s grim finish simply underscores the difficulty in reconciling reality with aspiration.
In the aftermath, Harris addressed her dwindling supporters from a lectern surrounded by American flags, a potent symbol of a campaign crippled with inefficacy. Casually late by a timid twenty-five minutes past 4 P.M., she appeared showcasing yet again the severe issues of time management that plagued her campaign.
Despite the unpalatable mixture of defeat and regret, Harris attempted a final spin at her now ironically jovial rhetoric, ‘we all have so much more in common than what separates us.’ A line reminiscent of her campaign’s pleas for unity, yet paradoxically lacking resonance in her divisive run for presidency.