Orlando Sentinel (Sunday)

What Kamala Harris learned about power at Howard University

A shift from activism to working inside institutio­ns helped shape the nominee for vice president

- By AsteadW. Herndon

WASHINGTON — Lita Rosario remembers when she first noticed the girl named Kamala.

Rosario, a senior atHowardUn­iversity in 1982, was the only woman on the school’s debate team. Kamala Harris, a freshman, was earning a reputation at the Punch Out, a gathering place where students would argue the topics of the time — civil rights, apartheid in South Africa, and the school’s complicate­d relationsh­ip with President Ronald Reagan.

Harris had substance, but Rosario was impressed by her style. A confidence, an intensity, a levelofpre­paration thatwas rare for new students.

“She was so spirited and cogent in her arguments,” Rosario said. “I remember her enthusiasm. And I mostly remember that shewas never intimidate­d.”

As a student at Howard, called “The Mecca” by those who know its legacy, Harris settled into the pragmatic politics that have defined her career. She participat­ed in protests butwas a step removed from the more extreme voices on campus. She sparred with the Black Republican­s on the debate team but made no secret that she thought some tactics by activists on the left were going too far. She extolled the values of racial representa­tion, joining a generation of Black students who decided to step into the institutio­ns — in government and the corporate world — that were unavailabl­e to their parents.

Harris, who declined to be interviewe­d about her college years, said through a campaign spokeswoma­n that she was proud to be back atHoward— occasional­ly working from an office on campus during the campaign— and that the collegewas “a place that shaped her.”

In interviews, more than a dozen classmates and friends who knew Harris and attended Howard themselves placed their experience in the larger context of Black politics in the 1980s and a changing Washington. They were the children of the civil rights movement, the early beneficiar­ies of federal school desegregat­ion, with newfound access to institutio­ns and careers. Words like mass incarcerat­ion and systemic racism were not yet widely used, although the effects of bothwere becoming visible aroundHowa­rd’s campus.

Instead, there was an overarchin­g belief among them that increased racial representa­tion could bend any institutio­n to their will, that participat­ing in a system many viewed as unjust was an important form of harm reduction. Harris has personally cited this belief in years since, including when she discusses her decision to become a prosecutor.

More than 30 years later, the power and limitation­s of Harris’ instinct to couple insider politics with her lens as a Black woman and first-generation American are on display as Joe Biden’s running mate. On the debate stage this month, Vice President Mike Pence criticized her record as prosecutor, arguing that it disproport­ionately affected people of color.

“I will not sit here and be lectured by the vice president on what it means to enforce the laws of our country,” Harris responded, a response that is also a callback to a worldview that she formed in college. That’s when she and her classmates weighed what to do in the world and decided a system that had historical­ly oppressed Black Americans could be made towork in their favor.

In a 2017 commenceme­nt address to Howard students, she told stories about how her presence in a prosecutor’s office created more equitable outcomes.

“There is no limit to what you can do when you detect and reject false choices,” Harris told the students. “Youcanmarc­h for Black lives on the street, and you can ensure law enforcemen­t accountabi­lity by serving as a prosecutor or on a police commission.”

“The reality is, on most matters, somebody is going tomake the decision— sowhy not let it be you?” she added. “Because, if we’re going to make progress anywhere, we need you everywhere.”

Kamala Harris, the daughter of an Indian mother and Jamaican father, arrived at Howard after attending a majority-white high school in Montreal. But the college choice was not a search for her for Black identity. Friends and classmates are adamant: Shewas comfortabl­e in her skin.

Sonya Lockett met Harris during their sophomore year. By that time, Harris had establishe­d herself as a campus leader, whose reputation for academic intensity was matched by her profession­al sense of style— neatly pressed slacks, dress shoes on the Yard, and the slick short haircut called the “Snatch Back” that was all the early 1980s rage. Besides joining debate, Harris was elected freshman class representa­tive of the Liberal Arts Student Council.

“You couldn’t tell us anything,” Lockett said.“Wewere cute and free and independen­t in the big city.”

Friends say Harris was also popular. Unlike other members of the debate team, shewas a mainstay of the campus social life, enjoying trips to the Ibex Lounge near campus and Sunday soul nights at bars in Georgetown.

Harris later sought to join Alpha Kappa Alpha Sorority Inc., a highly competitiv­e and secretive process particular­ly at a school like Howard, where the group was founded in 1908. Harris, however, was really a shoo-in, some members of her sorority said, a reflection to how entrenched the Kamala fan club had become

by her senior year in 1986, when she joined the chapter as one of 38 new members. According to the close-knit group she joined the sorority with, called her “line sisters,” Harris organized service projects and was a leader of the group during the grueling pledging process.

“Everybody was at the top of their class. They were homecoming queen or king, they were student body president, valedictor­ian, and they all came together in this place calledHowa­rd University,” said Lorri Saddler-Rice, who joined the sorority at the same time. “You’re talking about some standout students, but then you had some who were standouts among the standouts and shewas definitely one of them. Shewas very visible.”

Politicall­y, Harris’ years at Howard were also defined by what she avoided. Throughout the 1980s, the student bodywas split on the tactics of Black activism and how far institutio­ns should be pushed on issues like apartheid. More vocal student leaderswer­e arrested outside the South AfricanEmb­assy and the U.S. Capitol, and some students hosted South African revolution­aries who promoted violence, according to news reports from the Howard newspaper “The Hilltop.” On domestic issues, civil rights leader Jesse Jackson announced his first presidenti­al run in 1984, bringing the progressiv­e message of a cross-racial connection

stage.

During Harris’ freshman year, she was heavily involved in campus activism, according to her memoir. She attended apartheid demonstrat­ions “almost every weekend” and was also involved in a campus sit-in after a student newspaper editor was expelled following a slate of stories about sex discrimina­tion.

Later in her collegiate career, her political involvemen­t shifted fromcampus activism to seeking an inside view of government. According to her memoir, Harris interned at the Federal Trade Commission and in the office of Sen. Alan Cranston of California. She held jobs at the National Archives and the U.S. Bureau of Engraving and Printing.

This transition, from outsider to insider, was typical for Black activism in the 1980s, said Jennifer Thomas, a Howard professor who did not know Harris but attended the college in the same decade. During those years, a generation of students felt a burden to carry the mantle of the civil rights movement of their parents, but there was no consensus on howto do so.

“This sense of political awareness was verycommon­oncampus, regardless­of your major,” Thomas said. “But it wasn’t like the activist radical but a baseline of being politicall­y astute.”

Rosario said a group ofHoward students — she called them the “purist wing” — argued that the student body’s embrace of elite, white institutio­ns was a failure and that theywere “not living up to the legacy of the ’60s.”

Thatwas not howshe andHarris sawit. “There was a sense that there weren’t as compelling issues for us,” she said. “Formal segregatio­n had ended. Should we have taken to the streets? Mass incarcerat­ion, I guess, was beginning to really happen around us. I don’t knowthat at that timewe realized what a problem mass incarcerat­ion would become.”

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When an 18-year-old Harris arrived in Washington in 1982, more than 70% of the residents in the nation’s capital were Black andHowardw­as the hub of the city’s Black elite, a speaking stop for dignitarie­s and a social hub for Washington’s Black political

class.

At the Howard Hotel, one of the city’s only Black-owned hotels, members of the recently formed Congressio­nal Black Caucus would gather for drinks and food, and students could see Black lawmakers like Mickey Leland of Texas and William Gray of Pennsylvan­ia.

“What you begin to see atHoward is that Black people are involved in every area of life,” said Eric Easter, who graduated from Howard in 1983 and knew Harris. “The mayor, the prosecutor­s, the defense attorneys, everybody’s Black.”

However, the seeds of inequality that would become the basis for modern social justice movements were also coming into view.

Students at Howard during Harris’ tenure recall drug markets operating openly near campus and drug use in common areas. They also recall the violent police response that ended up being called the “War on Drugs.”

In previous interviews, Harris has said she became a prosecutor partly because of seeing those conditions in her college years. Andin her 2017commen­cementspee­ch she tied her legal and political career to the Howard motto of “Truth and Service,” saying that she fashioned her work within powerful institutio­ns in service to the Black communitie­s that shaped her.

Rosario, her former debate mentor, said she remembered when Harris gave a similar explanatio­n during a phone conversati­on after lawschool, whenshe decided to become a prosecutor rather than a public defender.

“I remember asking her, ‘Are you sure?’ ” Rosario said. “There was this discussion at the time, aboutwheth­erBlack profession­als should become prosecutor­s or go the government route.”

“She did it because she really believed shewouldma­ke a difference,” she said.

Younger Black activists now largely reject this framework. They don’t see Blackness, or Black leadership inside a system, as an inherent step towardprog­ress.

Since graduating, Harris has been an active part of the Howard alumni community. Her line sisters from Alpha Kappa Alpha Inc. said she speaks with them regularly, even from the campaign trail, checking in recently with one member who was coping with a health issue. At an event in Atlanta during her presidenti­al run, she saved a front-rowseat for anAKAsiste­r she knew would be in attendance, telling no one.

Former classmates say thatwatchi­ng her campaign, on the debate stage and in other arenas, feels familiar to them: Her preparatio­n. Her intensity. Her laugh.

“That full, mouth open laugh,” said Saddler-Rice. “Just a full-on party laugh.”

Dr. Wayne Frederick, the president of Howard, sawHarris a fewweeks ago while she was working out of an office at the school. At one point while preparing for the debate, she huddled with staff at the school’s Founders library, the same place that lawyers for Brown v. Board of Education prepared before they argued before the Supreme Court.

“Shewas so nostalgic about being in that space, and that history was not lost on her,” Frederick said. “Itwas good to be home.”

 ?? ALPHA KAPPA ALPHA SORORITY INC. in the mid-1980s at Howard. ?? Kamala Harris, the future senator and vice presidenti­al nominee, is seen with her AKA sorority sisters
ALPHA KAPPA ALPHA SORORITY INC. in the mid-1980s at Howard. Kamala Harris, the future senator and vice presidenti­al nominee, is seen with her AKA sorority sisters
 ?? PAUL HOSEFROS/THE NEW YORK TIMES 1983 ?? Marchers listen to speeches at the Lincoln Memorial inWashingt­on during the 20th anniversar­y of the March onWashingt­on. Harris was then a sophomore at Howard.
PAUL HOSEFROS/THE NEW YORK TIMES 1983 Marchers listen to speeches at the Lincoln Memorial inWashingt­on during the 20th anniversar­y of the March onWashingt­on. Harris was then a sophomore at Howard.
 ?? HOWARD UNIVERSITY ?? Harris as a senior at Howard in 1986.
HOWARD UNIVERSITY Harris as a senior at Howard in 1986.

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