As I drink my morning coffee, I am struck by the blasé tone of the panel, as they dissect the results of the gruelling 18-month campaigns. Whether out of professionalism or a seasoned detachment from the electoral theatrics, their commentary is precise and unaffected. They discuss Trump’s strategic success in expanding the rural electorate and locking in early votes—an approach that Harris struggled to match. It now must be well into the early hours of the morning in eastern-standard time and the trajectory is clear: of the seven battleground states— the Republican Party has found feat, in a decisive majority.
On my short walk to work down the bustling Northumberland Road, busy with commuters heading to work or school, the dissonance feels apparent. A familiar busker strums their guitar, louder than seems appropriate for this early hour and I dodge the energy company handing out flyers to passersby. Here, in Newcastle, England, I can't help but notice how far removed from the seismic political events of this morning we seem to be.
I contemplate what this means for us as women.
I think of my American flatmate and the impact Trump’s second term will have on her and the American girl in my course. It’s not just their futures that will be affected, it is likely the reverberations of this result will reach far beyond the U.S borders, stirring the global political landscape. But most of all, I contemplate what this means for us as women.
I'm still listening to the broadcast through my headphones when, after a brief intermission, the conversation shifts back to Harris’s performance. The guests delve into her loss of crucial “blue wall” states like Wisconsin, Michigan, and Pennsylvania. They critique her for a perceived lack of policy independence and the strategic error of staying too closely tied to President Biden’s political agenda. The discussion sharpens as the host interjects with the phrase, “people are voting with their pockets,” hinting that economic unease over the past few years has driven voters to place their faith in Trump, seeking a return to economic stability and familiar policies.
This economic anxiety, they argue, underscored a broader sentiment across swing states that change was needed, one that Harris failed to convincingly address.
It then strikes me that amidst the meticulous dissection of campaign strategies and electoral trends, they fail to acknowledge a poignant and historic aspect of this election: the missed opportunity for Kamala Harris to become the first female president. This was a chance to shatter the “glass ceiling” that Hillary Clinton notably came close to breaking in 2016. I wonder, is this the result of an unsettling pattern emerging that goes unmentioned? Trump’s electoral victories have consistently come against female opponents. He lost to Joe Biden, but when facing women, whether it was Hillary in 2016 or Harris now, he has prevailed.
It’s a disconcerting thought that perhaps, for some, the prospect of a female president is ultimately so unpalatable that they’d prefer a candidate embroiled in controversy and facing legal challenges.
I'm a minute away from the office and the broadcast pivots to discuss the performance in Nevada, particularly Clark County, a crucial area where a Democratic candidate would typically need to ''run up some votes''. Harris, however, did not achieve that critical lead, where Biden had triumphed in 2020. This raises uncomfortable questions for me, is there a broader issue at play here beyond political campaign, or character arch? Could it be possible the American voters simply resist the idea of a woman in the White House? It’s a disconcerting thought that perhaps, for some, the prospect of a female president is ultimately so unpalatable that they’d prefer a candidate embroiled in controversy and facing legal challenges.
