A Complicated Hope: A First Time Voter on the Decision Before Her

2024 has been a year of profound reflection for me, especially as I prepare to cast my first vote in a presidential election. Vice President and presidential candidate Kamala Harris’s campaign holds significant weight for me and other young people like me—young Black women navigating a world full of challenges and possibilities. Harris embodies the complexities of our hope for the future: she’s a Black woman running for the highest office in the land, someone who represents progress, but also someone operating within a system that wasn’t designed with her or us in mind. 

But the hope I feel is not without its complexities. As someone who has spent my life advocating for justice and equity, I’ve learned that the road to meaningful change is not a straight path forward. A bend in the road presents itself in my acknowledgment that a Harris candidacy is a symbol of possibility. Yet, it is also a reminder of the limitations of representation within a political system that resists change. This duality—realism tinged with hope—is something that many people in my generation grapple with each day as we push for our vision of a better world. 

From a young age, I believed in the power of activism. I understood the importance of fighting for justice, whether through my work with #1000BlackGirlsBooks or by supporting broader movements for racial and social equity. But as I’ve gotten older, I’ve become acutely aware of how the system often co-opts our struggles and the language of our movements, offering symbolic victories while maintaining the status quo. This awareness has shaped my perspective on who will ultimately get my first vote for President of the United States— Kamala Harris. Sure, there exists a certain kind of excitement and pride, but this awareness makes this moment feel quite different and far removed from other historic political moments of boundless hope. But how could it not feel different for me, for us? I am a part of a generation born into a material world that could also exist in the palm of your hand. 

We are the generation of information and connectivity. I’ve grown up in an era in which I had access to more information and could engage with social issues in a way that no generation before me could. This has armed me with a massive amount of data points and the ability to connect those points with lines that create a fuller story. This is true for much of my generation, Gen Z. We are not the first generation of young activists. As long as there have been young people, there have been people demanding that we challenge our systems and hoping to affect our way forward. But for many in my generation, activism is not just about responding to injustice—it’s about using the endless amount of information and connectivity at our fingertips to better understand the systems that perpetuate injustice. Whether it’s climate change, racial inequality, or the fight for LGBTQ+ rights, we see the far-reaching connections between these issues and how they intersect with our lives. We can also see what injustices look like thousands of miles away, every day, up close. We are making new and more far-reaching connections. 

I and many other young activists that I find myself surrounded by are deeply invested in the idea of systemic change–dissatisfied with incremental progress. We want to see a fundamental shift in the way our society operates. But change within a system is often difficult and slow. That tension is where the complexities lie. And, for me, a young Black woman, Harris’s campaign embodies an even more complex tension between finding hope in seeing yourself represented and being critical of the substance of that representation. It is a complicated hope. One can see her as a potential catalyst for change while also being aware of the limitations of the system she’s trying to navigate. One can see the limitations of her being a part of the system we desire to see radically changed while understanding a certain kind of necessity that she is within that system–has a seat at the table. Then, there is tension between what one believes our leaders should do morally and what many believe they must do politically. This constant tension makes it almost impossible to give in to the significance of the moment, to celebrate what should be a celebratory moment. 

One of the most significant challenges that Harris faces is the issue of U.S. foreign policy, particularly in relation to the conflict in Gaza. The war in Gaza has been a catalyst for student protests and widespread activism, especially on college campuses like mine. 

Many young people have been vocal in their demands for justice for Palestinians, and the response from the political establishment has often been dismissive. For many of us, this is a deeply personal issue that speaks to our broader concerns about global justice and human rights. Harris’s stance on Gaza is a critical test of her ability to connect with the young voters who have been vocal about their concerns and expectations. Offering vague promises of support or maintaining the status quo is not enough. Ignoring this issue, or handling it with the same cautious diplomacy that has characterized U.S. policy for decades, may only alienate the very voters who are looking to her for signs of change, for new and forward-thinking leadership. 

But how can a nation, a person, or a people stand for equality and justice abroad if it can not do the same at home? When I think of a Harris presidency and the new way forward that her campaign has promised, I question how a Harris campaign will meaningfully address systemic racism and inequality here at home. 

Over the last five years, the Supreme Court has chipped away at affirmative action and undermined efforts toward student debt relief. This has been deeply disheartening to witness and experience. For Black women, these rulings systematically strip away the liberties and opportunities we’ve struggled to secure, pushing us further to the margins of society. The court’s actions are a painful reminder that our existence in elite institutions or anywhere is seen not as a triumph but as a threat, undermining the very idea of fairness. 

I see the decision to strike down affirmative action as an attempt to delegitimize the presence of Black students in elite institutions, suggesting that our spots are “taken” rather than earned. But as someone who has worked hard to reach the halls of Harvard, I can attest that nothing about that journey has been easy. For many Black students, success is a direct result of years of perseverance in the face of systemic barriers, and to suggest otherwise is to erase the history of exclusion that has defined our educational institutions. 

Similarly, the court’s ruling on student debt relief is a blow to all young people, but particularly to Black women, who are disproportionately burdened by student loans. The government’s willingness to bail out big banks led by professionals, MBAs, and tycoons many years into their careers while denying that same grace to students, most of which agreed to loan-terms in their teens or early 20s, is indicative of what and whom we value. The racial wealth gap in this country is staggering, and by denying relief to millions of borrowers, the court has effectively ensured that this gap will continue to widen and who will be left on each side of the chasm. This is not just an economic issue—it’s a matter of justice, and it speaks to the broader systemic inequalities that Harris must address if she is to be the leader we need. 

I will vote for Kamala Harris not because she is a Black woman but because in voting for her, I get to demand with my ballot that our government work for all of us, not just the privileged few. It’s about recognizing that while her campaign is historic, it’s also just the beginning of the work that needs to be done. We need leaders who are committed to justice for all people, both at home and abroad. 

And, as I prepare to cast my first vote, I do so with a sense of purpose and resolve. Knowing that this election is not just about Kamala Harris. For many of us, it’s about the vision of America that we want to build, a vision that includes everyone. Kamala Harris’s campaign may not look like the perfect answer to all we are asking for, but it is a step toward the things we so deeply believe in. It is up to us to make sure that the steps we take forward lead us to real, lasting change. So, I refuse to give up hope. I find hope in the power of collective action. I find hope in the possibilities of a Kamala Harris presidency. This is not a passive hope—it’s an active, determined hope, a hope that is rooted in the understanding that real change requires both vision and action. It’s a hope that acknowledges the limitations of the system but refuses to be defeated by them. It’s a hope that is as complicated as the times we are living in, but that is no less powerful for it.