Opinion
How Beyoncé is helping Millennials fall crazy in love with Kamala
Anna Samson
Fulbright ScholarJust when it looked like Kamala Harris’ first in-person meeting and presidential debate with Donald Trump could not have gone better, later that evening, she nailed a campaign endorsement from Taylor Swift.
Sure, the backing of former Republican vice president “dead-eye” Dick Cheney or Trump’s former White House communications director (for all of 10 days) Anthony Scaramucci, might bring a few undecided voters in battleground states into the Harris camp, but it will pale in comparison to the groundswell of support that could be mobilised by an army of Swifties.
Childless cat lady Taylor Swift, one of the most popular singer-songwriters in the world, has polling numbers that would make any contemporary politician envious: more than half of all Americans – 53 per cent – identify as Taylor fans, with at least 16 per cent of these identifying as “avid” fans.
Swift is the latest in a long line of American culture makers who are throwing their weight behind Harris. While it is easy for Trump to dismiss these folks as “cultural elites”, it’s not just their combined influence he has to fear: it’s the soundtrack they provide to Harris’ vision of America that is so starkly counterposed to Trump’s.
While Beyoncé has not (yet) endorsed Harris, she authorised her song Freedom for use as the walk-on music at Harris’ rallies, including as the needle drop when Harris accepted her nomination. In so doing, Harris stepped into the rarefied space on the national stage that Beyoncé and other black and brown female artists have carved out that is at once proud, powerful, unapologetic and widely compelling.
Freedom is a total banger; you can jive with it even if you don’t clue into its subtext. The song is essentially a gospel call for fighting racism and oppression through hard work, collective effort and perseverance. It beautifully ties Harriet Tubman’s plucky heroism to the American ideals of perseverance, ingenuity and self-sufficiency.
When Beyoncé performed Freedom at Coachella (California’s major music festival) as the first black female artist to headline that event, in 2018, she transitioned it into Lift Every Voice And Sing, the African-American anthem made popular during the civil rights movement, of which Harris’ parents were active participants.
Beyoncé has always been a definer of the cultural zeitgeist, doing what savvy artists do best: reflecting who we are, expressing our deepest desires and anxieties, and showing us who we want to be. And she does it all in glamorous outfits with unforgettable earworms that make everyone want to groove.
Harris is doing for the Democratic campaign what Beyoncé has done for pop culture in America and around the world: providing a modern vision of America led by a talented woman who is proud of her identity but does not use it to define her. Instead, she uses her history and experiences to connect with the diversity that epitomises contemporary America and articulates what unites and drives the Union forward; learning from the past, rather than pining for it.
These efforts to portray Harris as the “modern mainstream” candidate are a direct riposte to the Trump campaign’s strategy to cast Harris as a “radical”. On the one hand, this involves Trump affording “comrade Kamala” with a special talent for ideological contortionism, labelling her as both a Marxist communist and a fascist, playing to deep-seated American fears of political extremism.
On the other, it is about calling Harris out as a “diversity hire” using racial identity and gender as part of her “woke” appeal, a red affirmative action flag to the culture war bulls.
But as her debate performance shows, Harris really is the mainstream candidate. She isn’t the one regurgitating conspiracy theories about immigrants eating their neighbours’ pets. And she has successfully transcended the race question, refusing to rise to Trump’s bait, instead reminding Americans of his unlawful treatment of black tenants as well as his views on the Central Park 5 and the Charlottesville tiki torchbearers.
While Harris has secured the endorsement of female artists who are at the cutting edge of pop culture – Charli XCX, Cardi B, Olivia Rodrigo, Mindy Kaling – Trump’s list of endorsements reads like a nostalgia narrow cast of “who’s that guy again?”
Harris’ endorsees see in her something of themselves: many have written about the importance of a woman having the right to make the most difficult and monumental decisions about her own body and its power to bring life into the world. Many have also struggled against stereotypes and discrimination in their own industries, rising to be pioneers and leaders in their fields. They never had the chance to fail upwards, succeeding only because they were twice as good.
Swift announced her Harris endorsement, not in a media interview but directly to her 283 million followers on Instagram.
This is an election where campaigning will be largely won or lost on social media platforms. Approximately 67 million Americans may have watched the Harris-Trump presidential debate but roughly the same number say they get the majority of their news from TikTok, on which they spend an average of an hour a day.
So while Trump might enjoy walking on to James Brown’s It’s a Man’s World, Harris will keep telling Americans that together they can make like Jay-Z’s grandma, whom his wife Beyoncé samples at the end of Freedom: “I had my ups and downs, but I always find the inner strength to pull myself up. I was served lemons, but I made lemonade.”
Anna Samson is a Fulbright Scholar with a PhD in international relations and American foreign policy. She is a longtime Beyoncé fan.
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