Kamala Harris losing to Trump is neither shocking nor surprising. It’s the culmination of a campaign season defined by missed opportunities, arrogant presumptions, and an appalling misread of the American electorate. After the results trickled in, like clockwork, liberals were left dumbfounded asking each other “What happened?” What went so catastrophically wrong that the Democratic Party, armed with more resources, establishment support, and the incumbency advantage, lost to a twice-impeached, convicted candidate who, in their view, redefines “controversial” every time he opens his mouth?

It wasn’t because voters suddenly fell in love with the former president. It was because they never connected with Harris. In part because she was a hollow candidate, but mostly because Democrats have no idea on how to craft a winning message. Candid conversations with real people about real fears and concerns—about inflation, crime, healthcare costs, the border, and the ongoing genocide that they actively have an active hand in, but most importantly on how all of these are hitting folks directly at home—would have gone a long way.

Instead, Harris and her campaign seemed determined to play by an entirely different rulebook, one based on a fantasy version of America where all that’s needed to win is a collection of polished soundbites and rhetorical reassurance that is as uninspiring and disingenuous as it is detached from the everyday struggles and aspirations of ordinary citizens. Couple that with the over-reliance on surface-level appeal, and you have the most vapid campaign that’s been run in our lifetime.

“Kamala is brat,” “auntie Kamala,” “they’re just weird,” “I have a Glock” were not winning messages. They weren’t messages at all, but I’ll get to that later.

“Where’s the Beef?”

Let’s start with the obvious misstep: policy. Kamala Harris’s strategy seemed designed to avoid publicly taking clear positions on any issue of consequence. The campaign trotted out vague, poll-tested phrases while sidestepping difficult subjects, hoping that platitudes would be enough to win the votes of struggling Americans. It’s no secret that Americans feel the pinch every time they walk into a grocery store or get their gas bill. It also wasn’t a secret to Harris, when she spoke in Raleigh, NC on the cost of living and the economy. They’re not just watching headlines about crime rates—they’re watching neighborhoods change, safety diminish, and opportunities disappear. And when voters looked to Harris for direct answers, she responded with opaque language and cautious evasions.

That isn’t to say that Democrats at large and the Harris campaign didn’t imply where they stood on some of these issues of consequence. Raising a record-breaking billion dollars in the short campaign cycle, while cozying up to Wall Street or other special interest groups may not be an outright expression of where they stand on the issues, but certainly doesn’t hide their position. All this while speaking about supporting the middle class or standing up for human rights here and abroad, felt to many like textbook doublespeak.

Where credit is certainly due is on Harris’ clear position on extending the Child Tax Credit, homebuyer assistance, and a Housing Expansion plan via an Innovation Fund, but again all that doesn’t matter if it can’t be articulated to the electorate.

Campaigning by Comparison: A Losing Strategy

The campaign kept acting as if Donald Trump would simply self-destruct. This wasn’t just wishful thinking—it was hubris. The Democrats seemed genuinely convinced that voters would see Trump’s rhetoric and record, then reflexively vote for the alternative. They believed voters were somehow waiting to reject Trump rather than assessing their own options with skepticism. The message was, “Look at how bad Trump is,” instead of, “Here’s why we’re better.” But when you focus on the opponent and not on yourself, you become defined by them—and that’s exactly what happened. Kamala Harris became “not Trump” rather than a candidate who could articulate her own vision for America.

Kamala Harris didn’t just repeat Biden’s “not Trump” strategy—she doubled down on it, hoping it would carry her to victory without recognizing that the playbook had changed. In 2020, Biden could get away with running as the alternative because the country was desperate for stability. Everyday was a scandalous affair in incompetence. But four years later, Harris was in a different position: she wasn’t just “not Trump”—she was also part of the governing administration, which meant that the state of what people are feeling would be attributed to Biden and her. That’s exactly why voters wanted to know where she stood, not only on Trump but on the issues that defined her own party’s record. Yet she never clarified her own vision, never told the American people, “Here’s where I align with Biden, and here’s where I’ll break from him.” By refusing to articulate where she agreed and disagreed with the sitting president, she lost her chance to establish herself as a leader with her own direction. Instead, she became a reflection, a candidate caught between defending the status quo and standing for something new, and ultimately standing for neither.

And while we’re here, let’s talk about campaign messaging. If you’re running for office, you don’t get to select which Americans you speak to. You don’t win by only speaking to people who already agree with you. You win by convincing people who might not agree. You win by listening to the people who feel forgotten and make them feel less forgotten. Less “I’m speaking” and more “I’m listening.” Yet somehow, the Democrats managed to run a campaign that felt more like a college seminar than a presidential bid. They failed to understand what actually matters to voters who might be sitting on the fence or might be just outside the party line, opting instead to double down on messages that play well either on social media or among academics and elites but don’t resonate in the grocery aisles of Michigan or the break rooms in Pennsylvania. In places where trust in government has been eroding for years, Harris offered comfort only to those who already felt comfortable with her. The rest? Well, they were expected to simply fall in line.

Not to mention, her social media strategy consisted of a team focused on going viral, hiring young, inexperienced staffers more fluent in TikTok trends than in crafting a coherent message on policy. Her campaign churned out videos meant to grab attention but had no substance behind them—moments designed to resonate with the very people who already planned to vote for her or, worse, those who’d never even show up at the polls. In a digital landscape that’s saturated and chaotic, the social media “moments” her team created were like dust in the wind—here today, forgotten in seconds. Harris wasn’t offering real solutions to the challenges young people actually face, like college debt, housing affordability, or healthcare. Instead, we got cutesy one-liners and attempts at relatability, as if viral soundbites could stand in for actual policies. The truth is, America’s youth didn’t need a politician who can land a meme. They needed one who could address their struggles with policies that mean something. But instead of addressing issues that matter, her campaign tried to make her into a social media star.

But maybe the most unforgivable mistake of all was an aversion to risk. The Democrats seemed unwilling to even consider, let alone propose, any new policies that might shake things up, even if that meant stepping away from the establishment and actively critiquing her office mate. In an era when voters are begging for genuine change, they were handed the political equivalent of a lukewarm coffee with a shrug.

Let’s get one thing straight: the media elites and pundits are going to come down on the voters as having let Kamala down, saying that she ran a flawless campaign or that she lost because she was too left-wing, or a woman, or black or [insert any other out of touch opinion]. It’s a comfortable narrative, but it’s also dead wrong.

Take a look down ballot. What was the messaging coming from local candidates and swing districts across the country? It was drifting right, not left, and despite that, the Democrats were still losing ground in these states. It’s not that voters were flocking to one ideal or the other—they were backing candidates talking about issues like border security, crime, and cost of living in a way that resonated. And while the media worked overtime to frame Harris as the clear choice who’d lap Trump, the real gap wasn’t about ideology—it was about relevancy. Americans were looking for leaders who’d address their daily concerns, not dance around them with safe rhetoric or abstract values, or how the economy on an aggregate basis was the best in the world. Harris was simply out of sync with a country looking for answers, not labels.

Donald Trump didn’t win because he transformed into a unifier or softened his rhetoric. He won because, in a field starved for boldness, the Democrats could only muster timidity. They were hoping for a coronation, not a contest, and they underestimated the discontent of the American people—yet again. Kamala Harris lost, yes, but it was the Democrats who handed over the election. In their refusal to face uncomfortable truths, to step out of the echo chamber, to take a real stance, they paved the way for the return of Donald Trump.

In short, they didn’t lose because they couldn’t win. They lost because they refused to. And history won’t forget it.

While the campaign’s own missteps are undeniable, there’s another culprit lurking in plain sight: the media. In an upcoming piece, we’ll explore how the press failed to fulfill its duty as the Fourth Estate, allowing candidates to coast without real scrutiny, while playing into spectacle and doubling down on its own comfortable assumptions. Harris may have lost, but the media’s failure to do its job isn’t just a footnote—it’s a crucial part of the story that can’t be ignored.

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Originally on Instagram
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Throughout the majority of my life, politics consumed me. I ate, slept, and breathed politics. From watching the news daily to always researching and understanding the historical context of issues, from engaging in countless political discussions and debates to sometimes just listening to the discourse of international politics at the uncles' table at community gatherings. Although I think part of the blame is on Jon Stewart and The Daily Show and Stephen Colbert.

I remember in high school, Facebook and Twitter sort of became my best friends in this, wherein I recognized the value of social media as a platform in exchanging ideas and using the advantage of its infancy to promote political thought and discussion, long before it became commonplace to do so. Granted, much of it went unheard.

It was a different time then, where many took for granted a relatively civil political landscape and the importance of civic engagement as well as proper representation. 

At that time (pre-2016), representation was not necessarily tied to identity but to ideals. However, every so often those are inextricably linked.

Before my senior year of high school, I wondered why it was that the direction of education was determined by a board comprised of individuals who had long been out of the school systems they were governing? In my mind, it also begged the question whether *that* was the reason for such a high level of administrative turnover throughout my time in the district. But the root of my inquiry remained, why didn't we have young(er) representation on the board of education?

So I set about changing that. And it ended up being in more ways than one. Before senior year started, I won the confidence of my peers and was made student council president. I put together a plan to completely restructure the student council to give it operative efficiency, but mostly to involve more students in the process and create a strong relationship between the administration and the student council. It worked pretty well. 

Quite literally, my first day as student council president, the administration took unilateral action suspending outdoor lunch privileges and all the students were in uproar—to the point that they were ready to stage a walk out and just not show up to classes. I remember thinking that this will probably not be an effective way to change the administration's mind. 

That's not to knock on protests, because they certainly have their place in raising awareness as well as displaying a strong show of force, when done right and effectively. But if a protest is not supplemented or driven by concrete, actionable policy or even individuals in a position to advocate for and enforce that policy, then it's rendered ineffective.

So I bought myself some time and got a hold of all the popular kids and let them know to tell everyone they knew to just hold off on that idea.

In the meantime, I was working on possible solutions that would be a reasonable compromise while also circulating a petition on what was then change.org 

The next morning, the school administration along with the board administration sat down with me to discuss my proposals. By the start of the school day, students had their lunch privileges reinstated, and the administration also agreed to shop around for a new cafeteria vendor. This really set the stage for a whole host of changes with the school and continued cooperation between administration and students over the school year. 

It also set the stage for the direction my life would take. Because along the way, someone jokingly suggested that I run for the board of ed some day. And by June of my senior year, I just decided to.

I still remember the excitement of my friends seeing someone amongst them who had just turned 18, going around collecting signatures to petition for his candidacy. And the excitement of my teachers who saw this as moment that really got younger people involved in the political process. With all the signatures collected, the oath of allegiance notarized, I submitted my documents to the county and became the youngest candidate to run for my town’s board of ed and perhaps the youngest candidate for public office in the State of NJ.

While preparing to campaign for election season, I was also preparing to start a BS/DO program full time. I recall some of the conversations had with parents and voters in the district as well as conversations with some teachers who relayed concerns of some parents. Primarily with regard to age and experience. After all, I was 18 years old running for public office fresh out of high school. So I understood the hesitation. Where I did not understand hesitation was a particular comment made by one of my friend’s parents who was concerned that my Muslim background was indicative of some radical philosophy that would influence my governance.

Now, being Muslim was not the center of my candidacy. Was it the center of my identity? Sure. But my candidacy was rooted in providing a recent graduate’s perspective when it came to how the board reached certain decisions and started new initiatives. Funny enough, it was a teacher who disarmed the parent’s concerns by vouching for me.

Needless to say, the 2014 election rolled around, and I did become the youngest Muslim elected to public office in the United States (MPAC - archived) (NYTimes). Now, this was not as big a deal during the pre-Trump era. I’d really just become known as the youngest BOE electee sworn in just a couple months later as a member. 

In fact since then, we’ve had other great young Muslims elected to similar positions like of Jersey City (who went on to serve as president of his BOE) and Bushra Amiwala of Skokie, IL. They were inspired by the macro-political environment and driven by a similar desire to serve their community by getting students a voice at the table.

And I expect they will probably agree that at the time of the election in which you are running, it feels like the most important election in your lifetime, but that, after having experienced one, you recognize how every passing election is the most important election in your lifetime. 

The opportunity to contribute to the direction of public policy is a privilege we should not take for granted. And equally important, if not more important, is the civic duty to ensure the continuation and expansion of such an opportunity. That said, go out and vote. Lmao.

I’ll probably have more words on this and tangential topics, but if anyone wants to talk feel free to message me.

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