Former Vice President Kamala Harris’ forthcoming memoir, 107 Days, has stirred the Democratic Party once again, this time not over Joe Biden, but over former Transportation Secretary Pete Buttigieg. In the book, Harris revealed she once considered Buttigieg as her top choice for running mate during last year’s election, but ultimately decided against it because of his sexuality.
Harris wrote that running as a Black woman with a gay man at her side would have been “too big of a risk.” Instead, she tapped Minnesota Gov. Tim Walz, noting that although Buttigieg was an “ideal partner,” the U.S. electorate was not ready to embrace that ticket.
“Part of me wanted to say, screw it, let’s do it,” Harris explained. “But knowing what was at stake, it was too big of a risk.”
When I asked about Harris’ comments, Buttigieg expressed surprise and rejected the idea that his identity could have jeopardize the ticket.
“I just believe in giving Americans a bit more credit than that,” he told reporters before a ribbon-cutting in Indiana. “my experience in politics has been that the way that you earn in trust with voters is based mostly on what they think you’re going to do for their lives, not on categories.”
Buttigieg went on to point to his own electoral record in South Bend, as well as Barack Obama’s 2008 success in Indiana, as proof that voters could be moved by results over identity.
The exchange has set off heated debate among Democrats and within LGBTQ+ communities. Harris’ caution is not without precedent; American politics has long punished candidates who present as “too much difference at once.” Her calculus reflects the sobering truth, which is that running as a Black woman already stretches the imagination of the American electorate, one still bruised and bound by racism and sexism. To add a gay man as a running mate would have multiplied that risk.
Buttigieg’s response, however, is equally telling. His insistence on “giving Americans more credit” sidesteps the very real structural barriers that have historically excluded not only Black woman and gay man but also trans, poor, disabled, and immigrant voices from the highest levels of government.
This isn’t new, as White gay men, in particular, often insist that their progress equals the progress, as if they acceptance ushers and liberation for all. But history shows us otherwise. The visibility of white gay men has rarely translated into safety or opportunity for Black trans woman, queer immigrants, or disabled LGBTQ+ folks.
To say Americans will choose results over “categories” ignores the fact that categories are often weaponized as barriers to power. Black candidates know this, women candidate know this, and certainly trans candidates know this as well.
Buttigieg himself has not always extended solidarity to our trans skin, most recently with troubling comments he made about the fairness a trans people in sports. That gap is where many white gay men have historically resided, comfortable advancing their own seat at the table, even if the table remains close to everyone else.
Buttigieg’s optimism reads selective amnesia. It is easy for a white, cisgender, gay man married to another white man to speak up about “earning trust” without acknowledging that trust is still denied to Black and trans bodies before we even open our mouths.
This is not solidarity. This is self-preservation masquerading as progress.
Harris’ admission may sting, but it is rooted in a reality many marginalized communities recognize, which is that America’s appetite for change has limits. She understood that, as a Black woman, she was already asking a nation to stretch beyond his comfort zone. Adding Buttigieg to the ticket would have not been a shared risk, it’ll have been another test she alone with carry the brunt of if it failed.
That is the peace Buttigieg misses. His “more credit” comments ignore that Black women in politics are constantly forced to do the math of survival. They must anticipate not only their opponents attacks but also the fragility of voters’ willingness to see them as capable.
This moment is more than campaign gossip; it is a reminder of the fissures within the Democratic coalition and within LGBTQ+ communities themselves. Representation cannot be measured solely by who is allowed into the photo-op. Real progress requires reckoning with how identity, power, and privilege intersect, and how easily some are left behind.
Buttigieg”s comments, while perhaps meant to sound hopeful, instead underscore a dangerous truth, which is that white gay men or often center themselves as the benchmark of inclusion while leaving trans, Black, and other kin outside in the cold. Until that changes, our communities cannot confuse access for a few with liberation for all.
Harris was right to calculate the risk, but Buttigieg would be wise to calculate the responsibilities.