Dysfunction and Profanity at Kamala Harris’s First Michigan Rally

The Harris-Walz rally at the Detroit Metro Airport was a logistical disaster, but it did showcase the newest girl-boss identity of the Democratic Party. The new populist angle promises good times for everyone. But through the rhetoric of the rally, major weaknesses were revealed, and they can be exploited. 

Despite registering for the event two days before, details never arrived. On the day of the event, nothing specific was available from any of the local Detroit newspapers either. Once at the airport, there were no signs or chaperones to direct toward the rally. I chose airport parking lots at random and found an inconspicuous Harris for President tent with volunteers running around in a frenzy. It was 5 p.m., and Vice President Kamala Harris would be taking the stage in two hours.

A very nice woman named Linda said she had been patiently waiting since 1 p.m. She said she had first been directed to the departures terminal, then the arrivals, before coming to this location. Linda claimed that many people had shown up at the check-in counter looking for Harris. They were still searching with no one to help them. 

But even here, at the right place, none of the volunteers seemed to understand the basic information on how to get to the airplane hangar where the rally was being held. Linda asked why this was all so confusing. She had come from far away to show support for the party, and in return, they had made things very difficult. A volunteer assured us that the event was made deliberately obscure for security reasons. Either this explanation was untrue, and the reason was total incompetence; or it was true, and completely stupid.

We waited for 30 minutes, and then the volunteers had some bad news. No more shuttle buses were coming. The venue was at capacity, with an estimated 15,000 people. But then a yellow school bus arrived, and the volunteers celebrated as though witnessing a miracle. We were the last to join the rally. What was odd about the mismanagement for public attendees was that, outside the hangar, the roads were lined with coach buses. They were not from the airport. People had been bused in from elsewhere. The event was likely organized internally.

Once through security, I saw a black youth choral group singing about emancipation. The hangar was full, though the crowd seemed much smaller than 15,000 people. I have a suspicion that, maybe, this many people registered for the event and only half showed up. The first speaker upon my arrival was Lt. Gov. Garlin Gilchrist. He took the stage and started shouting banalities, with the enthusiasm of proselytizing divine truths. He yelled about a future free of poverty, free of pollution, and free of limitations. He celebrated love and compassion. Then he told the crowd, “You don’t know how small Trump’s brain is,” while pinching the air to gesture something small.

His speech was followed by ghetto rap music.

The next notable speaker was United Auto Workers President Shawn Fain.

He continued with the same forceful and angry tone. It’s not what he said that mattered, it’s how he said it. Fain started his speech by affecting a working-class, no-nonsense attitude. He screamed phrases like “Go big or go home” and called Harris a “badass woman.” His liberal use of profanities that revealed something interesting in the Democratic strategy. The harder he cursed, the more the crowd cheered; when Fain screamed, “I’m fucking angry,” there was a deafening uproar of support.

The careful deployment of naughty words to signal irreverence and passion was used throughout the evening. Gov. Gretchen Whitmer had the honor of introducing Minnesota Gov. Tim Walz, Harris’s running mate. Her entire speech was the girl-boss preview to Kamala’s bad-b**** feature presentation. Gretchen came in with high-energy, stating that she “woke up in Big Gretch mode this morning.” Her index finger seemed to dictate every gesture: finger wagging in disapproval, finger snapping for emphasis, finger pointing at everything. Her description of Walz was a salt-of-the-earth fiction: “We all know the type of guy… a dad, a coach, the guy who makes bad jokes, who always has jumper cables in the car.” Her wholesome curation, however, was concluded by announcing Walz as the only guy that curses more than herself, and that he “gets shit done,” a phrase she repeated. More excitement.

Waltz carried the energy faithfully. Instead of leaning into his progressive reputation, he portrayed himself as the fed-up centrist who’s just sick-and-tired of Trump and his foolish shenanigans. When he talked about abortion or queer propaganda in schools, Walz told conservatives to “mind your own damn business” and deferred to freedom. He also used his trademark “weird” snub several times when referring to anything MAGA.

Kamala was the only speaker who did not start her speech by screaming. Instead, she began more presidentially, with an optimism and cadence reminiscent of Obama. I assumed her disciplinarian side would soon be unleashed on Trump, but fate intervened. While she delivered her keynote speech, promising good times and universal equality, a group of Palestinian activists started bleating and accusing Kamala of murdering Gazan babies. They did it twice. I watched several supporters grow uncomfortable. It created a little fissure into an evening that otherwise had consensus. And Kamala handled the situation angrily. The first time, she smirked awkwardly and made an impish comment about the democratic right to protest. The second time, Harris broke character and sternly warned the POC women that, “You know what, if you want Donald Trump to win, then say that, otherwise I’m speaking.” Her strong reaction earned her auditorium applause, sure, but across the country and especially in Muslim communities like Dearborn she’ll receive less favorable reactions. 

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A new marketing strategy has been deployed with the Harris campaign. It seems like a whole party rebranding, from the pretense to civility, which used condescension to attack, to something feistier and nasty. The Democrats seem to have finally caught up to their opponent, embracing the same populism they denounced Trump for.

The event also confirmed something: There is a deliberate and curated push to make Harris the sassy “bad b****” president. Why? Because, on the one hand, it’s a persona that everyone knows through popular culture. It’s easy. Voters easily consume the archetypal forms they are used to digesting. Trump is the white billionaire bully; Harris the black insubordinate girl-boss. It’s a perfect matchup.

When Air Force Two touched down on the tarmac, “Run the World (Girls)” by Beyonce was blasted so loud that many women, ironically, plugged their ears in distress. Throughout the night, ratchet female rap filled the intermission between speeches. White women in the crowd imitated black women, bobbing and swaying, as they danced. It was like a minstrel show but acceptable. What’s interesting about the music selection is that many of the songs express brazen arrogance and selfishness. But it works. It’s black female strength that’s vicariously experienced by all participants.

Harris is arguably the quintessential Democratic nominee. The Democratic Party as a psychology profile is the overbearing mother, full of well-meaning sentiments that have disastrous consequences. Her supporters are not difficult to understand. I spoke to many attendees, and they were genuinely sweet. That’s the problem. They are addicted to good feelings and appearing altruistic. When they are confronted with difficult truths that disturb and make them uncomfortable, they slip into slogans about kindness. It’s a defense mechanism for the fragile mind. Whatever the causes, I’ve found that good-vibe fanatics defend their saccharine delusions with existential determination. They’d rather indulge any fantasy that promises any euphoric or palliative effect over something that’s true. That’s what the Democratic Party is promising: good vibes. “I just want hope again” is something I heard from many supporters. People who are desperate for hope will believe in anything. This apparent flaw doesn’t weaken their support, however. Even if the entire thing is fake, isn’t happiness the premise of every TV commercial? People still buy in.

But delusions always have a reckoning. This evening, the good times were overshadowed by the nightmare of poor organization. And throughout the rally, every speaker had to pause and call for medics. It was too hot, and there was not enough water. The emergency golf cart struggled to part the crowd.

I managed to catch the first bus to leave the hangar, but many attendees were stuck for nearly four more hours after the rally ended. Not that Harris will lose support over her team’s mismanagement. She won’t lose customers with bad service.

But there is a way for her supporters to lose hope. She leaned on the one thing: good vibes. Her opponents could reveal that she’s not as advertised. That’s what the protestors surfaced. Bad feelings. Bad vibes. It’s an issue the Democrats still have no idea how to manage. And as Harris stumbles to counter her apparent betrayal of human rights in the Middle East, she has been accused of complicity in genocide, most recently under a new portmanteau: the Kamalacaust. 

Mitch Miller is an adventure writer and conflict journalist. He’s more than happy to join in on any extreme activity, and can be reached at mitchenjoyer@gmail.com. Follow him on X at @funtimemitch.