Kamala Harris has never been one to shy away from the spotlight, but the glare has been especially harsh in 2025. As she tours the country promoting her memoir, 107 Days, the former Vice President finds herself not only recounting the whirlwind of her historic presidential campaign but also facing a barrage of public protest and pointed questions—many of which seem reserved for her alone.
At a recent stop in Chicago, at least five protestors interrupted Harris, their voices echoing a now-familiar refrain: criticism over her handling of Israel’s war in Gaza. According to reporting by The Root, most of the disruptions on her book tour have centered on this contentious issue. Harris, undeterred, responded with characteristic composure. “So here’s the thing, I am not president. And if you want to talk about legacy, let’s talk about the legacy of mass deportations, of people not voting, and Donald Trump,” she told one heckler. Her words, captured and shared widely on social media, reveal a woman both weary of and practiced in deflecting blame for policies she can no longer control.
Harris is not alone in this predicament. Former President Barack Obama, too, recently faced a heckler at a public event and offered a similar retort: “Sir, I’m not the President of the United States, currently. So, there’s no point in shouting at me. I’m not in charge of foreign policy, currently.” The pattern is clear. As The Root notes, “Yelling and screaming at those who are not in office has become a misguided way to express frustration with the new regime.” Yet the vitriol hurled at Harris seems to carry a distinct edge—one shaped by race, gender, and America’s long, tangled history with both.
In October 2025, as a fragile ceasefire brought 20 hostages home from Gaza, Harris released a statement saying she was “thankful and deeply encouraged,” but added there was still “much work to do to secure a lasting peace.” Her critics, however, appeared unmoved. The interruptions, the scrutiny of her intellect and motives, the relentless questioning of her very presence—these, Harris suggests, are burdens her white male predecessors rarely shouldered.
Why does this particular level of animosity seem reserved for Harris, and, as The Root points out, for Democrats of color more broadly? “At the core of this situation is a troubling mix of racism, misogyny, and cowardice,” the article asserts. “These hecklers would never dare to act in this manner towards President Donald Trump, Vice President JD Vance, or any members of their political party and administration.” The implication is stark: Harris, no longer in office and thus unable to enact change, has become an easy target for anger that might be more appropriately directed elsewhere.
But Harris is determined not to let others define her story. In her conversation at the Fortune Most Powerful Women Summit, she spoke candidly about the emotional roller coaster of the past year. After leaving Washington in January 2025, she returned to Los Angeles, settled into a long-neglected home, and began to unpack—both literally and figuratively. “Writing the book was very cathartic,” Harris said. “At the end of every day, which was well into the night, sometimes early-morning hours, my prayer was, I hope I have done everything I could possibly do.”
Her campaign, launched with just 107 days to go after President Joe Biden’s withdrawal, was the shortest and most consequential in U.S. history. Harris crisscrossed the country, sometimes visiting five states in a single day and raising over $1 billion. Despite her Herculean efforts, she ultimately lost to Donald Trump. The loss, she admits, was painful and required a period of deep reflection. “I do think your home—sometimes your house has karma. If you’ve neglected it, it will treat you badly. All of a sudden, your best friend is the plumber,” she joked, offering a rare glimpse into her private life and the process of returning to normalcy.
Yet, Harris refuses to see her career as finished. Rejecting the notion of the “glass cliff”—the idea that women are handed impossible jobs destined for failure—she insisted, “Cliff, to me, suggests finality, and I’m not into that.” Instead, she emphasized that breaking barriers often means breaking things, and “when you break things, you might get cut, and you might bleed. And it is worth it every single time.”
In her memoir and public appearances, Harris has been forthright about the challenges facing the Democratic Party. She attributes the party’s 2024 defeat in part to voters’ belief that Trump would quickly bring down prices—a promise she says he failed to keep. “The price of groceries is up. Inflation is up. Unemployment is up. But I do believe that that was a big motivator,” she told Fortune. Harris also pointed to the corrosive effects of misinformation and deep distrust in American institutions—problems she says have only grown since the pandemic.
Harris is equally candid about the party’s missteps. She regrets, for example, that Elon Musk was not invited to a major electric vehicle event at the White House, a slight she believes contributed to his decision to support Trump. “A President of the United States, I believe, has to put aside political loyalties when they get in the way of what is actually and should be a source of pride for us as Americans, that we’re creating that technology and innovation,” Harris said.
Despite accusations that Democrats are anti-capitalist, Harris describes herself as a capitalist who believes in fair competition—but insists that the playing field must be leveled to ensure everyone has a shot. “If everyone’s not starting out on an equal level, then of course, we can’t assume that the best will rise if you’re starting out on first versus third base.” She argues that the party’s future depends on addressing the immediate needs of Americans—affordable childcare, elder care, and the cost of living—before tackling broader, long-term issues.
Harris is paying particular attention to younger Americans, especially Gen Z. She notes their climate anxiety, economic insecurity, and skepticism about homeownership as pressing concerns. “They have only known the climate crisis. They came through the pandemic. They are so worried,” she observed. Her message to business leaders and policymakers is clear: listen, engage, and prioritize the basics. If Americans’ most fundamental needs aren’t met, she warns, political disillusionment will only deepen.
On the subject of artificial intelligence, Harris is wary. She cautions that government policy is likely to lag behind the rapid pace of technological change, leaving Americans vulnerable to new forms of misinformation and exploitation. “The idea that Congress is going to catch up with the technology in real time and then get through its bureaucracy quickly enough to actually be relevant to a moment before that moment has passed—I hope it happens, but it hasn’t so far.” She urges business leaders to help educate consumers about both the benefits and risks of AI, insisting that informed citizens are the best defense against technological overreach.
As Harris continues her book tour, facing down hecklers and skeptics alike, she leans on the advice of her late mother: “Kamala, don’t you ever let anyone tell you who you are. You tell them who you are.” For Harris, telling her story—on her terms—remains both a shield and a calling, even as the nation debates her legacy and the future of the party she still hopes to shape.
