After such a turbulent election, there’s a collective sigh of relief—it’s finally over. This was as tense as they come, marked by insults, relentless propaganda, and a surprising outcome. Yet for some, the result wasn’t a shock.
Obviously, this isn’t about taking sides; it’s about reflecting on accountability. I come from the creative community, so many of my friends lean left, some passionately so, and I understand the shared disappointment. To say this election didn’t go well for Democrats is an understatement—they lost the electoral vote, the popular vote, the House, and the Senate. It’s a hard blow.
I expected people to be upset, but I didn’t expect such a lack of introspection. No one seems to be asking, “What went wrong?” Instead, we’re caught in the usual blame game.
Some public figures have voiced deep disappointment with the country’s direction, others vow to leave, and accusations of sexism, racism, and fascism fly. But few are asking the harder question: was the candidate truly electable?
Despite the groundswell of support Kamala Harris received—nearly a billion dollars in backing, endorsements from major celebrities and influential figures like the Obamas and Clintons, even Oprah reportedly received a million dollars for her support—her message failed to connect. The media, arguably, went beyond supportive to outright biased, heralding her as democracy’s savior before she had shared a single policy. This wasn’t a scrappy, underdog campaign; it was structured to win by a landslide. In fact, many would argue that Trump wasn’t even running against Harris. His real opponent was the democratic machine.
So what happened?
The answer is simple: without a clear message, even the best communicator falters. Even a skilled musician can’t make a poorly composed melody sound beautiful. Similarly, Harris’s campaign lacked a message that spoke to voters' real concerns. Her political song lacked a resonating verse and a memorable chorus.
Instead of addressing the daily struggles of inflation, job insecurity, and rising costs, her message focused on abstract ideals like “defending democracy,” “protecting freedoms,” and “turning the page.” Noble concepts, but without tangible solutions, they felt distant and ungrounded. While the campaign highlighted important ideals like democracy and freedom, many voters were looking for solutions tied more closely to their immediate challenges.
To be fair, Harris faced an uphill battle out of the gate. She inherited a struggling administration and was expected to lead it with little support from Biden. Once she accepted the nomination, she took on all its challenges: an uncontrolled border, record-high prices, and two active wars. No wonder she avoided the press early on—what could she say?
Her strategy—however flawed—may have been her only choice: avoid the tough questions, rely on supportive media, and stick to the script like a well-rehearsed actor.
At first, this worked. But eventually, people began to ask: Who are you? How will you make life better for us? That was the beginning of the end.
On the campaign trail, she scrambled to piece together a last-minute strategy, all while reinventing herself as a moderate—a leap off a cliff, hoping to grow wings on the way down. I can relate; when I transitioned from hard bop on tenor sax to cross-cultural soprano, it felt like diving headlong into the unknown. But Harris’s challenge was greater: if she revealed her true self—the Kamala before the vice presidency—many would see her as Bernie Sanders in a pantsuit, or as Senator John Kennedy joked, "AOC without the bartending experience."
In the end, she faced a nearly impossible task.
Like him or not, Donald Trump is a formidable opponent on the campaign trail, bringing a style of “WWF politics” that even Hulk Hogan endorsed. With Biden’s record anchoring her campaign, the Democratic Party put Harris in a cage match she couldn’t win.
After the debates, it was clear she wasn’t resonating with voters. Why would she? Most of the policies she inherited weren’t her own, aside from abortion rights—which got overshadowed by larger economic concerns. She was dealt a weak hand—a pair of twos in a game of political poker.
When polling showed she wasn’t resonating with young Black men, Obama was brought in to rally them. But rather than understanding their concerns, he proclaimed it was their duty as “brithuz,” to throw their support behind Harris, reducing them to a monolithic voting bloc rather than individuals who also wanted pay their bills and feed their families. In truth, they were more concerned with economic stability than identity politics.
If we conclude this election simply proves “America is sexist and racist,” we miss the deeper lesson. These issues matter, but they don’t explain everything. This election suggests a need to move beyond identity politics and address people’s day-to-day concerns. In challenging times, the pressing demands of everyday life—paying bills, securing jobs—can overshadow broader social issues.
Accountability isn’t about blame; it’s about understanding what resonated and what didn’t. Democrats, for example, could ask why certain groups—like Black and Hispanic men—drifted away. Was it the message, the policies, or something else? Building true support requires listening to people as individuals, not demographics.
This election underscores the importance of substance over symbolism. The issues that weighed most heavily were economic: inflation, job security, housing, food costs. These tangible concerns demand real solutions—policies that directly address rising costs and create jobs—not lofty appeals to “save democracy.” Instead, the Harris campaign focused on symbolic battles, leaving the struggles of working-class Americans largely unaddressed.
Many of Harris’s critics, largely from the right, called her an unskilled politician. I see it differently: she is skilled, perhaps too much so. This was her problem. You can’t dance and sidestep your way to the Oval Office, dodging the inevitable blows. That she rose as far as she did was a feat, her artful evasions more frustrating than flawed. But as the election results revealed, her “word-salads” alone could not seal the deal. The American people wanted substance—a message of meat and potatoes, something to sink their teeth into.
The bottom line: without accountability, there can be no progress. If leaders, parties, and the media aren’t willing to question themselves, they’ll keep alienating voters and failing to meet real challenges. Those who see the results as solely a reflection of sexism or racism are missing the bigger picture. This narrow view helped put Trump in office and will prevent candidates like Kamala Harris from ever reaching the White House.
Real progress comes from understanding what resonates with voters and responding to their immediate concerns. Without that accountability, we’re destined to repeat the same mistakes. True reflection and accountability aren’t signs of weakness; they’re strengths that make genuine progress possible.
It’s understandable to feel frustration toward Trump, and even those who voted for him. But what should perhaps stir even deeper anger is this: you were given a candidate who seemed unlikely to win, and then pressured to push aside your reservations, to fall in line, and keep quiet.
