“I glanced at the screen. Caller ID blocked. Only about a dozen people have my secure number. Of those few, only one came up blocked. I unfolded my legs, stood up, and walked around the corner to my office. ‘Hi. Joe,’ I said.” —Kamala Harris.
[For context, she is recalling the moment she received what will likely be remembered as one of the most significant phone calls in modern American politics. A call from President Biden to tell her he had decided not to seek reelection. A call that didn’t just change her life—it changed everything.]
I recently finished Kamala Harris’ 107 Days. I’d give it a full 10/10, especially paired with the audible version.
Yes, I do both. Don’t judge me.
It’s honest, vulnerable, and strikingly optimistic. But it wasn’t a quick read for me. In fact, it took me almost a week to finish, because I kept stopping. It was an emotional rollercoaster, which is saying a lot for someone like me.
Iykyk.
I planned to make a post on Facebook, but quickly discovered that my thoughts were a bit too lengthy for a Facebook post, so I decided to bring my reflections over to Substack.
Here goes.
107 Days.
First, let me say that being tasked with mounting a campaign for President of the United States in 107 days is wild.
Okay, now that I've got that off my chest, I would like to offer three reflections inspired by this book, and I promise to keep the political jargon to a minimum.
Kinda.
1. America’s sexism is on full display
The way women are dismissed, second-guessed, and held to impossible standards in this country is annoying.
What struck me most while reading ‘107 Days’ was its relentless nature. The drumbeat of questioning, the constant demand for women, especially women of color, to prove themselves over and over again. Harris’ story isn’t just about one leader’s experience; it exposes a system that treats competence as suspect when it comes with a vagina.
And let me be clear, when I say sexism, I am not reducing it to locker-room talk or corporate glass ceilings. Sexism is deeply embedded in how we evaluate leaders, how we assign credibility, and even how we consume stories. When a man stands up for himself, we call it assertiveness. When a woman exhibits the same behavior, we call it aggression.
How sway?
Watching America say emphatically that we’d rather have an unqualified man than an overqualified woman is disheartening, but to be frank, I was prepared for that outcome, given that I’ve been witnessing it play out in churches for years. 🙃
That’s another conversation for another day.
2. The assault on intellectualism is real
Reading this book reminded me that one of the most dangerous trends in our culture is not political division but the erosion of thoughtfulness. We are living in a moment where sound bites travel faster than substance, and nuance is seen as a weakness.
We are witnessing the devaluing of education in real time. To be informed, think deeply, and ask hard questions were once considered virtues in life and leadership. Today, they are often seen as elitism or, worse, as betrayal of “the people.”
Whatever that means.
What we don’t consider is that without intellectual rigor, we end up with shallow leaders and shallow citizens. Without curiosity, democracy itself becomes fragile.
For me, this takeaway isn’t just about politics; it’s about every aspect of life.
Anywhere thoughtfulness dies, manipulation thrives.
3. Whoever controls the media controls the culture
Media is not just reporting, it’s reality-shaping.
The stories that get told (and the ones that don’t) become the lenses through which we interpret the world. When certain voices are amplified, and others are silenced, it’s not just a battle over airtime; it’s a battle over truth.
What unsettled me most was realizing how much of our “common sense” is actually curated sense. What we assume to be obvious, natural, or unquestionable often comes from the voices holding the mics.
And those voices are rarely neutral; they carry interests, agendas, and power.
As someone who preaches weekly, this landed close to home. Whoever controls the microphone shapes the imagination. Whoever shapes the imagination steers the culture.
For me, this was a call not just to consume media more critically, but to steward my own platform more responsibly.
All in all, I think it’s a great read. If you’re interested, I will be sharing more of my unpolished thoughts on this book on Threads, including my not-so-hot take that they probably should’ve stuck with Joe. 🙃
Follow me on Threads.
Happy trails.
I don’t know why I like that old saying, but I do.