Kamala Harris discloses in her forthcoming memoir that her first choice for a running mate in 2024 was Transportation Secretary Pete Buttigieg, but she ultimately concluded it was “too big of a risk” for a Black woman to run alongside a gay man.
“Buttigieg would have been an ideal partner—if I were a straight white man,” Harris writes in 107 Days, set for release next week. “We were already asking a lot of America: to accept a woman, a Black woman, a Black woman married to a Jewish man. Part of me wanted to say, screw it, let’s just do it. But knowing what was at stake, it was too big of a risk.”
The book recounts her decision to select Minnesota Governor Tim Walz instead. Harris and Walz went on to lose to Donald Trump in November. Her unusually candid reflection underscores a larger dilemma Democrats continue to face: how to balance the appeal of historic “firsts” with the calculation of who can actually win.
Harris reveals that Buttigieg initially topped her eight-person list because of his ability to make progressive arguments palatable to conservatives. “I love Pete,” she wrote. “I love working with Pete. He and his husband, Chasten, are friends.”
The pair grew close during their 2020 presidential runs, when Buttigieg became a breakout star with his relentless media presence and near-victory in Iowa. Though he later faded, President Joe Biden likened him to his late son Beau and appointed him transportation secretary. Buttigieg remained a high-profile Democratic messenger, often sparring on conservative networks to sell the Biden agenda.
When Biden stepped aside in 2024 after a disastrous debate performance, some allies pressed Harris to pick Buttigieg, arguing his youth and communication skills could help her make the case for generational change. But Harris writes that the political risk outweighed the reward.
Walz, who delivered a strong convention speech but proved lackluster on the campaign trail, has since announced a run for a third term as governor. Democratic strategists now debate whether Harris’s decision mattered much in the end, but her memoir offers a rare glimpse into the personal and political calculus behind a campaign that made history—and fell short.
