After the Orange smoke clears, Vice-President Kamala Harris deserves her own love ballad—the kind where the singer spends all 4 minutes and some odd seconds apologizing.
Kamala was enchanting. She was everything. Smart, sharp, laughing unapologetically—the one. Even my mama loved her. But then, like a bad plot twist, America fell for the okey-doke. And baby, I’m sorry. Shoobe-de-whop-de-bam.
So, here we are, facing the music of the election results. But are you really surprised? This country was built by a group of outcast religious fanatics who stole land, enslaved people, and turned barbarism into an art form. Fast forward to 1831, when thousands gathered to burn a Black man alive like it was Sunday brunch.
Or take 1921, when thriving Black towns like Tulsa were destroyed simply because their success made folks uncomfortable. So, am I shocked that more than half the country couldn’t elect a Black woman to the highest office? Not really. Disappointed? Absolutely. America, congratulations – you played yourself.
The GOP’s anthem hit the airwaves and had democracy fans reaching for tissues with its usual country tune: misogyny, bigotry, hypocrisy and idiocracy. And yet everyone sang along— Economy, Immigration, Police Immunity. The irony? Their lead singer, who should be in Sing Sing, is riding a rap sheet of 34 felonies, but hey, who’s counting? (Apparently, not open mic night in Middle America) I’ve said it a few times already, but let me say it again: I’m sorry.
Meanwhile, the Dems were singing, too. But their sound? Dated. Over-synthesized. Like a prepackaged pop song—catchy, but far from a classic. It was over-produced, high on glitter, low on substance that aligned with the struggle and pain that the masses were dealing with. Kamala, you deserved better. You were Chaka Khan to their Rufus. You were every woman (and man, and child) for an unforgettable 106 days. Imagine if we had committed earlier. I’ve said it a few times already, but let me say it again: I’m sorry.
It’s time for a remix, Democrats. Dig in and start—really listening—to what people need, building a message rooted in everyday struggles and delivering it with unapologetic authenticity. Scrap the elevator music and bring the soul back. This isn’t ‘Dire Straits’—this is Beyoncé at Coachella, unapologetically celebrating a unified culture while commanding the global stage mixed with some Method Man and Mary J. Blige.
“You’re all that I need, lie together, cry together, I swear to God… Queen with a crown, I’d be down for whatever.”
We need to return to the essence. To harmony. To raw lyrics that connect with the people. Can it be all so simple? Imagine a grassroots collective, like Wu-Tang, that mobilized an unapologetic message for the people, by the people—raw, real, and undeniable.
Swan song for Democracy? Nah. The party’s not over—but it’s time to flip the script, turn up the volume, and make the message a triumph.
REELated:
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Hailing from Chicago’s South Side, Pardé Bridgett is an award-winning ad writer, culture curator, and creative strategist.
