August 12, Rhonda Garelick, distinguished professor of English and Journalism at SMU Dallas, for a piece about the Kamala Harris/Tim Walz democratic presidential ticket and how age, gender and appearance can be muted or magnified in the presentation. Published in Garelick’s New York Times ‘Face Forward’ column under the heading Paying More Attention to His Appearance Than Hers: https://tinyurl.com/uzaemwbx
Historically, women in the public eye have been described as women first, and everything else second: “women politicians,” not just politicians; “women authors”; or “women artists,” for example. Along with the labeling comes the long list of expectations, especially in politics, which typically breaks down into three basic categories: body (Is she pretty enough, or maybe too pretty? Does she dress badly or too well?); temperament (Is she nice or overbearing? Is she too emotional? Too ambitious?); and family (Is she a childless cat lady? A mother? Is her husband really running the show?).
Remarkably though, Kamala Harris seems to be evading much of this, starting with her perceived age. Ms. Harris will be 60 in two months. Yet she seems just somehow outside the category of age — not young, but also not old or even middle age. True, she is more than 20 years younger than President Biden and telegraphs energy and exuberance. She dances; she sings; she laughs; she’s friends with Quavo. But when she rebukes a disruptive protester at a rally with her trademark, “I’m speaking,” she is the adult in the room — fully mature, yet nowhere near “old.” And also free of the staid or matronly connotations of the “middle-age woman.”
They’re the same age, but pundits and voters can’t stop talking about how much older Tim Walz looks than Kamala Harris. It’s not the only way her running mate seems to be absorbing some of the scrutiny usually heaped on female candidates.
By Rhonda Garelick
Historically, women in the public eye have been described as women first, and everything else second: “women politicians,” not just politicians; “women authors”; or “women artists,” for example. Along with the labeling comes the long list of expectations, especially in politics, which typically breaks down into three basic categories: body (Is she pretty enough, or maybe too pretty? Does she dress badly or too well?); temperament (Is she nice or overbearing? Is she too emotional? Too ambitious?); and family (Is she a childless cat lady? A mother? Is her husband really running the show?).
Remarkably though, Kamala Harris seems to be evading much of this, starting with her perceived age. Ms. Harris will be 60 in two months. Yet she seems just somehow outside the category of age — not young, but also not old or even middle age. True, she is more than 20 years younger than President Biden and telegraphs energy and exuberance. She dances; she sings; she laughs; she’s friends with Quavo. But when she rebukes a disruptive protester at a rally with her trademark, “I’m speaking,” she is the adult in the room — fully mature, yet nowhere near “old.” And also free of the staid or matronly connotations of the “middle-age woman.”
Also remarkable was the fact that, when Ms. Harris named Governor Tim Walz as her running mate, suddenly, his perceived age, hair and appearance became the issue. At first, the press seemed unaware of Mr. Walz’s actual age, which is 60, a mere six months older than Ms. Harris. A reporter on MSNBC explained that Governor Walz “balanced the ticket,” because he was “old” and Ms. Harris “young.”
His real age established, everyone started talking about how much older Mr. Walz looked. Social media blew up with people marveling (or complaining) about the “visual age” gap between Ms. Harris and Mr. Walz: “Even his military photos look like he was in Vietnam despite having enlisted YEARS after the Vietnam war ended,” wrote one poster on X. Or this quip: “Walz doesn’t look a day younger than Bernie [Sanders].” A few wags started posting pictures of Mr. Walz alongside more glamorous peers, such as Brad Pitt and Tom Cruise.
Unruffled, Governor Walz affably blamed the stress of his high school teaching career for his weary look and sparse white hair.
When the Harris campaign highlights Mr. Walz’s career, they emphasize how his politics demonstrate his warm, empathetic relations with others. His creation of the free school lunch program in Minnesota, for example, is publicized with a photo of a beaming Mr. Walz being squished in a group hug by happy school children. Ms. Harris even refers to him at times as “Coach Walz,” reminding us of his days coaching high school football.
When have we ever seen a situation like this, where a top male politician is depicted as the cuddly, family person who loves working with kids? When he is scrutinized for signs of aging or compared unfavorably to handsome movie stars? Never. It’s almost as if Governor Walz is absorbing and wearing the very gendered traits and judgments that the vice president has managed to shrug off or deflect.
Of course, Kamala Harris fulfills some traditional gender roles: She is married; she has two stepchildren. She speaks often of her love of food and her serious cooking skills. (She even once hosted her own YouTube cooking show, “Cooking with Kamala.”) But none of these things define or overshadow her. They are acknowledged, checked off, then these domestic markers recede into the background.
As for her appearance, Ms. Harris hews generally toward a sleek uniform of pantsuit, silk blouse, pearls and heels, which “suggest fashion without being too fashionable,” as Vanessa Friedman, The New York Times critic, has written. Her hair is mid-length. She is telegenic. But such details also recede into the background.
Just think of how the last few women with presidential aspirations were variously described: Elizabeth Warren, a former Harvard law professor, was called “a hectoring schoolmarm” for offering expert policy explanations, and advised to change her glasses and hair. Nikki Haley, then 51, was no longer “in her prime,” according to Don Lemon. And the prize for the most female failings in all categories, of course, went to Hillary Clinton, who came to prominence as first lady, as a “wife,” and was assailed for her hair and style, her presumed disrespect for “cookie baking” and for tolerating her husband’s transgressions.
Ms. Harris, though, did not marry until nearly 50, and her husband, Doug Emhoff, keeps a relatively low profile. She has also had a long career entirely separate from her husband’s and kept her unmarried name. All of this helps minimize the cultural weight of “wifedom” and domestic life. Ms. Harris also projects warmth but telegraphs a dead-certain confidence that might just have been impossible for a woman politician until right now, transcending the “niceness” and “temperament” issue somehow.
In part, this shift could be generational. Kamala Harris and Tim Walz were both born in 1964, the very last year of the Baby Boom. Yet many in that cohort feel no identification with baby boomers. But neither are they Gen Xers. They are people in-between. Perhaps in 2024, this status now enables public figures to be “in between” in new ways, to wear their gender more lightly.
Rhonda Garelick writes the Face Forward column for The Times’s Style section. She is the D.E. Hughes Jr. Distinguished Chair for English and Professor of Journalism by courtesy at Southern Methodist University. More about Rhonda Garelick