If you’re looking for threads of consistency spanning Kamala Harris’s career in public, start with this: the Democratic nominee for President likes to work and hang out and have fun and be seen with her close kin. Maya Harris, her younger sister—a Stanford-educated lawyer, a former law-school dean, and a policy adviser for Hillary Clinton in 2016—chaired Kamala’s 2020 Presidential campaign and can often be seen at her side. Maybe it’s this instinctive family intimacy, so hard to fake, that keeps me replaying a video of Kamala and Maya, chatting with an unseen interviewer from the Daily Beast, in 2012. Maya’s talking about how her sister’s climb up the political ladder has caused a teasing fracas between the sisters on the topic of ceremonial titles. Kamala was, at the time, California’s attorney general.
“When they’re attorneys general?” Maya says, her voice brimming with mock exasperation, “they call them ‘General.’ ”
“Yes, they call me General Harris,” Kamala says. “And she hates that.”
Maya goes on to set her boundaries. If Kamala becomes President someday, then, sure, she’ll switch to “Miss President.” It’s not exactly “Madam,” but still: you can hear a formal ring. Until then, she’s just Kamala.
Kamala, feigning sternness, says, “No, I’m Big Sister.” Then, loosening a bit around the eyes, letting her face bloom into a joke: “Big Sister General.” Both women lose it—their eyes go skyward, and their heads lurch forward. Their laughs synchronize: a fluttering cackle, quick and light and precise as a bird’s heartbeat. It’s the kind of bust-out, stomach-hurt, jaw-sore mutual guffaw you really only see in nineties broadcasts of the standup showcase Def Comedy Jam—they crack each other up.
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