I’m angry at my wife. She agreed on my behalf (and without my consultation) that I would write this short essay on our friend, and California’s attorney general, Kamala Harris. I’ve got a couple of problems with this. First, no one wants to read or, it turns out, write another glowing “She’s the real deal! She’s a powerhouse!” piece on the spectacular Ms. Harris. Second, even in my best, trying-my-hardest moments, I’m obviously no David McCullough. Who am I to write about any politician? Then two more things occurred to me. One: Kamala Harris is not “any politician.” And two: I actually enjoy telling stories about relatable, human characters who, against all possible odds and despite incredible, terrifying pressure, succeed in defeating monstrous threats (often literally monsters—aliens, mysterious beings bent on destroying our way of life). This might actually make me fairly well suited to talk, albeit briefly, about California’s A.G.
I should start by saying that if I were casting a movie about Kamala Harris I probably wouldn’t cast Kamala Harris. Mostly because she looks like a movie star. Which means the audience wouldn’t believe it. Katie (my wife, whom I’m angry at) and I met Kamala when she was district attorney of San Francisco. What struck me upon hearing her speak was that we had stumbled upon the most unusual of creatures: an authentically inspiring human being who happened to be in politics. Of course, politicians are supposed to inspire. But how often do you feel inspired? For me, the answer is essentially never. But Kamala struck a chord.
No stranger to the real world—to discrimination and struggle—this daughter of an Indian-physician mother and a Jamaican-American-professor father is as hopeful and optimistic as anyone I’ve ever met. She has an enormous heart, but she doesn’t only walk the talk. She invents innovative ways of dealing with seemingly intractable problems (see her success in managing elementary-school truancy). She is fun as hell (the Best Belly Laugh in Politics award goes to her), deeply decent, and wise well beyond her years.
In short, Kamala Harris is the protagonist of a great story. In this particular narrative, the monsters that threaten public safety, our environment and educational system, the country’s homeowners and elderly, health care and marriage equality, aren’t as easy to market or as pyrotechnically awe-inspiring as what a Hollywood visual-effects house might create, but they are the threats we face and they’re very real.
During the mortgage-fraud crisis, the banks offered the country a paltry settlement. Fellow attorneys general pushed hard to accept the deal and settle, but Kamala—despite intense pressure from both parties and the White House—refused. Instead, for more than a year she faced off against the banks until finally reaching an estimated $20 billion settlement for California homeowners. (Harris’s tough negotiating also raised the national settlement total.)
O.K., I can’t help myself: She’s the real deal! She’s a powerhouse! Yes, mine is a generation of hyperbole, but I speak the truth here. It’s a privilege to write about someone I respect (and adore) as much as I do Kamala Harris. I’m even starting to feel grateful to my wife now. Dammit.
On second thought, maybe I would cast Kamala in a movie about Kamala. After all, if there’s anyone who could make you believe in a hero … it’s she.
