Last night, on the presidential debate stage, Trump stood as an empty vessel dressed in bravado, grasping for clarity like a drowning man gasps for air. The words stumbled out of him, but they lacked meaning, as if mimicking a language he no longer understood. His voice—once a tool of disruption—sounded thin, hollow, like an echo of past performances. It was not just the typical fumbling for facts, the outright lies, or the deflections; it was the way he looked—lost, unraveling before the cameras, babbling incoherently while desperately clinging to his former persona of dominance.
What we witnessed was not the fall of a man, but the collapse of a myth. The emperor who once manipulated fear and anger to carve out his empire now stood exposed. His attempts to pivot, to redirect the conversation with the same old soundbites, no longer worked. The nation watched as he contradicted himself, as he turned the debate into a rambling monologue, disconnected from the substance at hand.
Kamala Harris seized the moment, meticulously dismantling Trump before the eyes of millions. But did she bruise herself in the process?
Let me first say, no one with any sense can deny that Kamala destroyed him. She took the offensive, and it worked. As award-winning author, Kiese Laymon said on Instagram, she bloodied him good. Trump’s power has always been rooted in spectacle, in the ability to command attention through sheer audacity. But on that stage, the audacity was met with precision. Kamala did not simply rebut his talking points—she eviscerated them. She pressed and cornered him, exposing the empty center of his rhetoric for all to see.
She dealt her most crucial blows to Trump over abortion access, her words landing like precise strikes to the body, each one deliberate, punishing. She didn’t simply challenge him on policy or engage in a debate over the nuances of reproductive rights—she exposed the callousness, the cruelty, the deep-rooted disdain for women’s autonomy that Trump had cloaked in the rhetoric of morality.
Kamala reminded the audience that abortion wasn’t just about choice—it was about freedom. And in those moments, you could feel the weight of every woman watching, every mother, every daughter who had fought to keep her body her own. Trump stumbled, as he always does when asked to speak on anything beyond himself.
She undid him, piece by piece, as if every time he tried to defend himself, the ground shifted beneath him.
Given the speed with which her nomination unfolded, Kamala Harris remained, until this evening, a figure relatively unfamiliar to much of America—a canvas upon which people could paint their own aspirations, anxieties, and preconceived notions. For some, her performance tonight will leave them energized, buoyed by her sharp rebuke of Donald Trump. But for others, this night will mark the moment she ceased to be that blank slate. She laid out her vision, her policies, her principles. And I suspect some might not have liked what they heard.
During the debate, Kamala spoke to a platform that has noticeably shifted from the more progressive agenda she championed during her 2019 presidential run. Back then, she supported policies such as banning fracking, endorsing Medicare for All, and promising executive action on gun control—all positions that resonated with the left. However, today, she presents a more moderate approach. She softened her stance on fracking to accommodate economic concerns, her healthcare plan now revolves around a public option rather than a single-payer system, and her gun control measures emphasize incremental reforms over sweeping changes.
These adjustments reflect a pragmatism born from her time in the White House and the need to appeal to a broader electorate.
On issues like Palestine, criminal justice reform, and immigration, Harris’s rhetoric has similarly shifted. While she once took a stronger stance on Palestinian rights and supported sweeping criminal justice reforms, her 2024 platform reveals more cautious, centrist positions that focus on compromise and gradual change. This moderation is not unique to Harris; it mirrors the path taken by other Black political figures like Barack Obama, who had to navigate the delicate balance between representing progress and managing the realities of the centrist Democratic establishment.
But I’m sure this shift will sit just fine with most voters, as this election is less about policy and more about identity. The question isn't whether Kamala Harris supports Medicare for All or a public option, but rather how her presence on the ticket makes people feel about themselves, about the nation they believe they live in. This is the subtle, dangerous art of identity politics—an art that neither Kamala nor Trump has to master because the public is already performing it for them.
The weight of Kamala’s Blackness, Trump’s whiteness, her womanhood, his manhood, her ties to the first African American sorority, his support from the Ku Klux Klan, do more to shape the national conversation than any policy speech ever could.
Most people watching had already made up their minds long before the candidates even took the stage. Recent polls show that Kamala Harris and Donald Trump are running neck and neck, a reflection not so much of the policies they’ve proposed but of the deeply entrenched divisions in the country they hope to lead.
There were, however, many undecided voters watching—voters whose disillusionment with both parties has left them swaying like loose branches in the political wind. Many of these voters are in swing states, the ones who will likely decide the fate of this country. For Kamala Harris, this was a rare opportunity, a moment to step from behind the shadow of the party and Joe Biden to show herself not just as an extension of the Democratic establishment but as someone new, someone worthy of their trust.
While Kamala Harris may have garnered interest from undecided voters leaning right, particularly those drawn to her centrist positions (likely Nikki Haley supporters), I wonder about the others—the ones whose focus is on climate change, the border bill, genocide, and gun violence. These are the voters who have seen the cracks widening in the world around them. For them, the stakes are clear: the planet is on fire. Migrants are treated like pawns. Communities are bleeding. Entire peoples are being erased.
And in that context, Harris’s pragmatism may feel more like a quiet surrender than a bold answer.
There’s no doubt that under Trump, none of these issues would fare better. His denial of climate science, willingness to incite violence, and disregard for global human rights have always been clear. But what happens when Harris, the one person who is supposed to be the antithesis of Trump, offers a status quo that feels inadequate? What happens if voters see a candidate who acknowledges the crises but presents solutions that feel cautious, incremental, a mere bandage on a hemorrhaging wound?
For those undecideds, the ones who have watched as the ice melts, as refugees flee for their lives, and as children are shot in their classrooms, it may not be enough. Some may walk away from this debate, not seeing Harris as a viable option either. And in a political landscape where abstention is often as powerful as a vote itself, choosing to sit out the election would deal a massive blow to the Democrats.
There is also the possibility that many undecided voters could instead support someone such as Jill Stein, who is currently polling ahead of Kamala Harris with Muslim voters in some swing states.
All in all, Kamala Harris won handily. There’s no denying it—she stood firm, sharp as a blade in the face of Trump’s unraveling, and Democrats should feel thankful to have moved on from Joe Biden. Kamala proved she has what it takes to beat Trump—both the man and the myth. She didn’t just speak; she commanded, showing the country that she could step into the ring and land punches where it mattered.
But in this political landscape, winning a debate isn’t the same as winning an election. One has to wonder, on a night where she fully introduced herself and her vision for the country to millions unfamiliar with her beyond the headlines, will that vision be enough to carry key undecided voters to the polls?
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This reflection speaks very powerfully to the election campaign.
America has become a country where the talk of the town is who lampooned the other with the most bloody thrusts of the blade. It’s childish at best. Dangerous at the minimum.
Not a big supporter of Kamala Harris’ politics on issues such as Palestine and criminal justice, I thought that she did a good job at prosecuting a foolish ex president and known egotist, but I wondered if the country was shopping for a president with a rare vision, or for the sharpest blade. In middle school, students swoon over the takedowns. Are we the students or the adults in the room???
Fantastic work as always critically appraising the debate. But I have one question about how VP Harris is referred to and addressed by everyone to the point that it is ubiquitous- she is continually referenced by her first name while others (men) are referenced by their last name (Kamala vs Trump). Not one time have I seen men in any discussion being referred to by their first name (Donald, Joe, Barack). It may seem minuscule, but as a Black woman I am particularly sensitive to how we (and women in general) are given our due respect (and/or honorifics) by others. Can we call on everyone who writes about VP Harris to change this?