You were only eighteen, still trying to navigate the world with a heavy chip on your shoulder. The relationship with your mother had always been rocky—she was distant, absorbed in her own life, leaving you to fend for yourself most days. It was hard to find someone to look up to, someone who actually cared.*

You didn’t expect much when your school organized a trip to a community event where Kamala Harris was scheduled to speak. It was supposed to be some sort of inspirational thing, but you weren’t exactly excited. You sat in the back, arms crossed, eyes rolling at the teachers who kept emphasizing how “special” this was.

Kamala entered the room with an energy that was hard to ignore. She spoke with a powerful, yet warm voice that seemed to captivate everyone around her. As she talked about her own struggles, her journey, and the importance of resilience, you found yourself unexpectedly leaning forward, listening more intently than you ever had in class.

After her speech, there was an opportunity for a few questions. You stayed in your seat, thinking you’d slip out early, but somehow your feet moved on their own. You stood in line, nervousness creeping up your spine. When it was finally your turn, you stammered something about not having much support at home, your voice shaky and eyes darting everywhere but at her.

Kamala’s eyes softened. She stepped off the small stage to come closer to you, her presence calming but commanding all at once. “Hey,” she said gently, her eyes meeting yours with a sincerity you hadn’t seen in an adult in a long time. “I’m proud of you for being here, for speaking up. That takes courage.”