Kamala gave me hope, but could a woman of colour really lead Australia?

In 2020, just days after my 18th birthday, I sat glued to the TV, captivated by a moment I knew would go down in history. On the screen, a woman in a white suit strode confidently across a Delaware stage, her presence commanding as car horns blared and joyous cheers filled the air. It was Kamala Harris, newly introduced as the vice president-elect of the United States.

It was a moment hard to put into words, as women of colour like me witnessed a new possibility – that we could be the leaders of nations.

Kamala Harris, right, and Australian women who’ve been tested in Australian politics: Tu Le, Fatima Payman and Julia Gillard.Credit: Illustration: Marija Ercegovac

Moving images from across the globe swept through, of girls from as young as two years old to women of 90 who had spent decades fighting battles for equality, gripped to their TVs. Harris’ markedly individual and powerful voice had cut through, resonating with so many of us, as someone from a layered, multicultural family that looked so much like our own. It was a moment no one could take from us.

However, turning to my own backyard, the chances of such an appointment felt slim. Only a few months earlier, I raised my concerns on the set of the ABC’s Q&A with former prime minister Julia Gillard, who told me that while my dream for leadership and politics was entirely possible, she would not insult my intelligence by dishonestly pretending that gendered and racial discrimination would not be in abundance. While I appreciated her ultimate advice – to nurture a sense of self that isn’t hostage to what other people say about you – I could not blind myself to our broader discussion surrounding the torrential, gendered abuse she confronted as our first female prime minister.

The likelihood, then, of someone like Harris or any other woman of colour to emerge as the leader of an Australian political party seemed even more bleak.

This was amplified in 2021 when Tu Le – a woman of colour, who reflected the rich ethnic diversity of the federal electorate of Fowler in Sydney’s south-west – was sidelined in Labor’s preselection process in favour of Kristina Keneally, who was living on Sydney’s affluent northern beaches. The decision begged the question: is “diversity” still merely a tokenistic buzzword for our political parties, invoked purely for performative and political reasons?

Labor lost the seat for the first time in its history at the 2022 election when independent Dai Le took it with an 18.5 per cent swing. At least Labor has attempted to correct that blemish on its history, this month reinstalling Tu Le, a Vietnamese-Australian lawyer, as its candidate for Fowler for the coming election.

But this discussion continued to unfold last year when I met then Labor senator Fatima Payman at a reception for emerging leaders of colour. I recall her saying to me: “Satara, in this country your race should never be a barrier to your dreams. You can and should be anything you want.”

Fast forward 12 months, when Payman was forced to confront her differences with a party whose line she was expected to toe. Instead, she bore those same sentiments with pride. “I was not elected as a token representative of diversity,” Payman said in June when she crossed the floor to vote against the party line and instead support Palestinian statehood.

Her election as a Labor senator had sent a message to young women of colour that voices like ours were being substantially heard in the halls of Australian political power. But her admission that she was effectively “isolated” by members of her party for having a standpoint different from the norm sent a clear message to the contrary. How do we expect young women of colour to run for parliament if they are expected to simply smile, remain silent on issues that truly matter and conform to party politics, without being true to those who elected them? Payman quit Labor and sits as an independent senator.

A study by the Global Institute for Women’s Leadership found that only 1 per cent of participants – politically engaged and active Australians aged 18 to 34 – even considered running for politics. It feels unfair and undemocratic that we must seek other mechanisms of change, leaving the halls of power to the privileged.

But back to the woman in the white suit. In this election, Donald Trump weaponised Harris’ background, questioning her racial identity. However, Harris delivered her powerful answer at the Democratic National Convention, not only honouring her South Asian and Caribbean parentage. When her relatives joined her on stage, there were faces from many backgrounds – truly commemorating what it means to have a big, blended family in modern America.

Truth be told, I disagree with many of Harris’ political stances. However, I would be lying if I said it did not spark some hope in me, and those who look like me, to witness the courage of an established, major political party to embrace such a woman as its candidate to lead arguably the most powerful nation in the world.

So I’ll remain optimistic for the 2025 Australian election. I believe we can learn from our counterparts in the US and one day choose a leader who represents the diverse fabric of the Australian identity.

Satara Uthayakumaran is a writer and student at the Australian National University.