I am Kamala Harris. As soon as I could stand, I began standing up for justice. When I was a toddler, my parents took me to Civil Rights marches, in California, where I was born. People sang joyful songs of freedom. They painted colorful signs, saying “Love your Neighbor,” “Freedom,” and “Equal Justice Under the Law.” People of every color and background were kind to each other, working together make the American Dream come true for everybody. It was like a rainbow parade for fairness. I loved it.
Once, I slipped out of my stroller at a march. My mother hugged me to comfort my fussing. “What do you want, baby?” She asked. “Fweedom!” I answered, just like the other civil rights marchers. The family laughed. But I meant it.