Her Turn: What a Kamala Harris Presidency Means for America, Ethiopia, Me

1 Mon Ago 262
Her Turn: What a Kamala Harris Presidency Means for America, Ethiopia, Me

By: Hawi Bussa

As I watch the American election unfold from my home in Ethiopia, I feel the weight of history in ways I hadn’t anticipated. This is no ordinary election; the potential for a Black woman, Kamala Harris, to become the first female President of the United States is monumental—not just for the U.S., but for the world, for Ethiopia, and, strangely, for me. The idea that Harris, the daughter of immigrants, could go toe-to-toe with a figure like Donald Trump is powerful, revealing not only how far the world has come, but also how much further we have yet to go. As someone who’s lived in America and now lives in Ethiopia, I find myself contemplating what this moment means personally, for my identity, and for my sense of possibility.

In America, political dynasties and established power structures have often defined who sits in the White House. A Black, female president represents the breaking of an enormous barrier. I remember my years in the U.S., where I saw firsthand the deep-seated racial issues and gender biases that often define life there. For the longest time, it seemed like glass ceilings were too thick to shatter, especially for women of color. But this election feels different—it's daring to suggest that a Black woman in power could be more than a symbol; she could shape policies, influence international relationships, and potentially set the tone for a more inclusive world.

As an Ethiopian diaspora, this isn’t just about celebrating a win for Black women. It’s about the shift in consciousness that comes with seeing someone who looks more like me in the world’s highest office. Here in Ethiopia, we have our own stories of historic achievements, like former President Sahle-Work Zewde breaking barriers as the country’s first female president. Harris’s candidacy feels like an extension of this progress, creating a bridge that links experiences across oceans. It’s a sign that no matter where we come from or the challenges we face, representation is evolving in a way that breaks down long-standing narratives and reinforces the idea that we, too, belong at the table.

This election isn’t only about breaking barriers in American society; it’s about redefining power globally. America’s choice influences how other nations perceive and interact with their own diverse populations. In a world still grappling with issues of racial inequality, particularly on this continent, Harris’s potential presidency might inspire leaders in Ethiopia and across Africa to see the value in embracing diverse perspectives at the top levels of government. It could challenge us to create spaces where people aren’t only defined by their ethnic or gender identities but can step into roles purely based on vision, character, and competence.

For those of us in the diaspora, this shift is deeply personal. We carry both pride and the weight of representation. Seeing someone like Harris in the White House would validate the journey of countless people of color who straddle multiple worlds, navigating identity crises and balancing aspirations with cultural heritage. It reminds us that our dreams are valid, that our voices matter, and that we, too, are part of a global narrative moving toward inclusion. As an Ethiopian who has wrestled with identity and belonging, Harris’s candidacy fills me with hope. It underscores a truth I hold dear: that no matter how challenging the journey, no matter the obstacles, we can redefine the spaces we occupy.

This is more than just politics; it’s about representation that echoes across continents. It’s about the way forward for those of us who have had to look into two different mirrors—one in America and one in Ethiopia—and wonder how to reconcile the images. It’s a moment that reminds me that even from Addis Ababa, my story is tied to hers.


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