I Want To Believe In Kamala Harris, But I’m Scared

Because women of colour face concrete ceilings

I love heights. I live for them.

The high of being on top of the world is euphoric. Nothing can stop you from touching the stars. It’s magical.

Something straight out of a Disney movie.

But I’ve got a confession. I hate the fall of the rollercoaster. It terrifies me. You go from alpha to omega in point five seconds. All dreams of grandeur fall through the sky. My top-of-the-world fantasies come crashing down with the rollercoaster.

When news broke out that Kamala Harris would be Joe Biden’s Vice Presidential Nominee, I was at the climax of the rollercoaster.

For a short period, I was over the moon. Unbeatable.

After that, my brain went into full panic mode. My hands became clammy, my breath hitched midair and my eye pupils dilated. I could feel the decline of the rollercoaster.

As a feminist and a marginally represented woman of colour, I panicked. I felt the loom of the rollercoaster fall. I could almost taste it.

I don’t blame you if you think it odd that I reacted this way. It is odd. I’m not the only one shouting for the representation of women of colour. Especially in politics.

But we often exist in vast echo chambers. We do it without realising it. We do it out of desperation to be heard.

I should be beyond happy that Kamala Harris, the first Asian-American and African-American woman in politics, is picked.

But I’m pursing my lips and bracing myself for the fall.

The glass ceilings of women in power

Kamala Harris’ nomination is everything I wanted ever since I was 15. The year I learnt I was a feminist.

Harris’s nomination is more than a breakthrough. It’s history in the making. It should be something to celebrate.

Call it stupidity, call it blind ingratitude. Call it what you will. But I’m not celebrating just yet.

Kamala Harris is a woman. She will face the inevitable glass ceiling for daring to be in politics.

Just look at history if you don’t believe me. Margaret Thatcher. Theresa May. Hillary Clinton. I call it the Woman in power Effect.

Thus, we have the Thatcher Effect, the May Effect and the Clinton Effect. All three women were belittled and villainised.

In one viral video, on Margaret Thatcher’s funeral day, a Scottish grandmother insulted Thatcher. She said she’d put a ‘stake through her heart and garlic (/garrote) around her neck, to make sure she didn’t come back’.

I had a music teacher spit in disgust at the mention of Margaret Thatcher’s name.

But it’s not just Thatcher. May was ridiculed and reduced to a jester throughout the Brexit campaign. They called her ‘incompetent’ and ‘terrible’.

Across the pond, Hillary Clinton was called ‘nasty’ by Donald Trump. He called her a ‘crooked’ woman and a ‘skank’.

The united voice of hatred of women in power is phenomenal.

Now, you can counterargue that all three women were real ‘nasty’ creatures.

Thatcher did unforgivable crimes to Ireland and Scotland. Theresa May lacked empathy towards the Grenfell Tower victims. Hillary Clinton’s policies are sometimes questionable.

But that never justifies the deep misogyny expressed across the board. Men have dominated politics across the world. Every country saw a man in power.

But if a woman dares to step into politics, she faces a glass ceiling. A barrier that prohibits her from advancing and climbing the hierarchal ladder.

A barrier that deems it ‘nasty’ for women to be powerful.

The concrete ceilings of women of colour in power

Kamala Harris’s identity is three-fold. She is an African-American, Asian-American woman.

She is a woman of colour.

“Women of colour don’t face a glass ceiling — they face a concrete ceiling, meaning that they face even tougher obstacles than their white counterparts.” — Jasmine Babers, 2016.

Today, anti-racism is not new. It’s not revolutionary. But we need it. Kamala Harris on the surface looks like the solution.

She may well be. I want her to be the solution.

But the ceiling she will face will not be glass. It would be harder to shatter.

Unlike white women in power, she will have much more to prove. We already see it. Instead of talking about her policies and her record, her identity is being discussed.

People on the right are questioning her Americanness based on racialised stereotypes.

People on the left are bickering about her label: Is she African-American? Is she black? Is she just Asian-American?

We judge her on her appearance rather than on merit. Her identity is twisted and turned to suit the public.

To top it all off, Trump made no secret to label her ‘nasty’ too.

My fear of the inevitable fall

I’m scared. For many reasons.

I’m scared of the concrete ceilings that Kamala Harris will face. I’m scared that her identity is being politicised to divide rather than unite.

I’m scared she’ll end up an example of why women of colour cannot lead. I’m scared that if her failure comes, it will be proof that women of colour are inherently bad at politics.

In truth, I’m scared she’ll let me down.

It’s absurd because I live in London. I’m nowhere near America. It’s impossible for Kamala Harris’s politics to directly affect me across the pond.

And yet, I’m scared she’ll let me down.

Kamala Harris, whether or not we like it, carries the burden of expectations from all people of colour on her shoulders.

We expect so much from her and expect so little from Joe Biden. And yet, if Biden doesn’t get elected, more people will blame his failure on Kamala Harris. I fear I might be one of them.

Kamala Harris has a lot to prove. I’m scared for and of her.

Being the first in anything is scary as it is. Couple that with the world hawk eyeing you, I’d hate to be Harris.

Harris is forced to prove she can be the face of America.

I want to believe in Kamala Harris, but I’m scared

It feels like being frozen in time. Frozen, milliseconds before falling face down at the hands of gravity.

The fear of the rollercoaster drop is greater than the high of the climax.

I pray Kamala Harris pulls it out of the bag. I do. I want to believe in her. I want to be proven wrong. I want Kamala Harris to be the solution we’ve been waiting for.

I want to believe in Kamala Harris, but I’m bracing myself for the fall.

Fatima Sultan is a writer, tutor and self-proclaimed nerd. She writes about life and its many excitements and disappointments. She also apparently likes referring to herself in the third person. You can read more of her writing by subscribing to her free newsletter.