Recently released excerpts from 107 Days, the memoir of former Vice President Kamala Harris, drew the ire of senior Democratic Party strategists last week, notably political commentators David Axelrod and Van Jones.
During a Friday afternoon segment on CNN’s Arena with Kasie Hunt, the pair reduced Harris’ account of her historic, though brief, presidential campaign to “cry baby stuff.” Jones declared Harris “did not have a political future,” while Axelrod called the passages “salacious” marketing to boost book sales.
Yet, millions of women who undergird the Democratic Party see Kamala as a mirror reflecting their very adult lived experiences on a national stage. Political commentators should be careful not to reduce the former Vice President’s personal account to merely petty political theater, lest they risk alienating a key Democratic voting bloc that overwhelmingly chose Democrats in the 2024, 2020, and 2016 general elections.
Jones and Axelrod’s criticism stems from Harris’s account of events where she describes being on the receiving end of loyalty suspicions from President and First Lady Biden, isolation from Democratic leaders in her role as Vice President and party nominee, and professional undermining from internal White House staff. Her account is not gossip—it is testimony. And in telling it, Harris is doing what Firsts have always done: narrating the lived reality of being in a seat where no one like her has sat before and validating the experiences of millions whose experiences she reflects at the highest levels.
The Broader Pattern
Broader economic and career patterns illustrate that Harris’ experiences reflect more than her own reality—they are consistent with what women and minority “firsts” encounter across society. Those who rise into new ground-breaking roles report widespread pay gaps, fewer professional advancement opportunities, and harsher penalties than peers. Increasingly, many are turning to entrepreneurship not out of indulgence, but out of necessity in the face of shrinking opportunity.
Black women working full time, year round were paid only about 64 cents for every dollar paid to White men in 2023. Earlier data placed the figure closer to 61 cents. White women fare only slightly better, earning 77 cents. Even former President Barack Obama, whom by most accounts Axelrod and Jones owe their relevance to, also noted this reality during his presidency, even signing into law the Lily Ledbetter Fair Pay Act.
At the same time, Black women are leaving the workforce at staggering rates. This year alone, nearly 300,000 Black women have stepped away from traditional labor—a “stunning reversal” of hard-won gains. Economists estimate the drop is costing the U.S. economy tens of billions in GDP. In a single month, more than 100,000 Black women lost jobs, the sharpest decline of any demographic group.
Even when women do rise to the top, the rules are different. Women CEOs average 5.2 years in leadership, compared to nearly eight for men. Too often, they are appointed in moments of crisis—the “glass cliff”—when conditions are most precarious, like Harris found herself following a jaw dropping dismal first debate performance from former President Biden in the summer of 2024. Yet, boards scrutinize their decisions more harshly, and media coverage frames their departures more negatively.
Academia and public service tells a parallel story. Black women leaders are often brought in during crises, under-resourced, and then swiftly removed when problems persist. Their exits are magnified without mercy and underreported without context. Look at former Harvard president Claudine Gay. Look at how Federal Reserve Governor Lisa Cook was nearly stripped of her seat as the first in her role without due process just weeks ago. These are not isolated incidents. They are patterns.
The First Person’s Burden
Step into Harris’s shoes. You are the first woman Vice President. The first Black Vice President. The first South Asian Vice President. You carry centuries of aspiration on your shoulders. The media questions your every move. Allies hesitate to defend you. And when you finally choose to tell your story, you’re told to be quiet—or worse, ridiculed.
In that position, wouldn’t it be common sense to reclaim your narrative? To monetize it? To make it not just about your experience, but about the millions of women whose lives look like yours? Harris is not simply selling books. She is leveraging her position, her history, her firstness. She can be both Shirley Chisholm and Madam C.J. Walker, truth-teller and entrepreneur. If felony convictions don’t stop men from holding the highest office in the land, why should Harris telling her truth discredit her legacy and place in history?
Kamala Harris is not a pundit’s punchline. She is a precedent. To honor her story is to honor the stories of millions of women who are doubted, underpaid, undermined, and pushed out, but who rise anyway—to meet the demands of their jobs, to get out the vote at polls, and to lead movements on the front lines. She’s not a crybaby. She’s a First. She’s a mirror. And she’s using her story the way Firsts always have to: as proof of what’s possible, and as a blueprint for those who will come next.
Put some respect on the former Vice President’s name.
Antonio White is founder of 480 Advisors and a former Deputy Assistant Secretary of the U.S. Treasury Department. He previously served as Director of Congressional Affairs and Communications at the Federal Housing Finance Agency. Learn more at 480advisors.com.
