The Democratic Party’s Ongoing Identity Crisis. What's Next?

As Donald Trump is returning to the White House and we are reckoning with his cabinet selections, many Americans are still wrestling with the uncomfortable truth: this wasn’t a simple contest of ideas or a victory based on the merit of policies. It was a swift, calculated backlash against the Democratic Party Elite. But it doesn’t solely stop at the feet of Democratic Party leadership. Trump’s anticipated victory is also emblematic of a powerful desire in America to rewind the clock, to undo the hard-won progress many of us hold dear, and is a reminder that entrenched white supremacist messaging still dominates our political landscape. 

Vice President Kamala Harris’ candidacy, an incredibly short-lived one after President Biden declared he would be stepping down a mere three months before the presidential election. The same day, Biden nominated Harris as his replacement, and she was quickly maligned not only because of the Democratic Party not having an open primary for us to decide our next party leader or for her flip-flopping accusations, but because she represented a different way forward than Trump. Despite, arguably, being the most qualified presidential candidate to date, even being a candidate to have experience in every branch of the U.S. government, Harris was scrutinized under an impossible standard, with many criticisms laced in racist and sexist undertones. This is not to say Harris’s policies were beyond reproach—her responses on Palestine left much to be desired and namely explored a continuation of the U.S.’ pro-Israel policy stance—but to ignore how the intersection of race and gender also shaped the narrative about her is to ignore the reality of America’s political and cultural climate.

It’s essential to remember exactly who Trump is and what he represents. In his previous term, Trump stoked racial divisions, encouraged misogynistic rhetoric, and normalized anti-immigrant policies. His past comments have been littered with insults, from calling African nations “shitholes” to openly bragging about his ability to assault women. His supporters have mirrored this attitude, unabashedly chanting slogans like “build the wall,” a slogan steeped in xenophobia and racial animus. Trump’s legacy includes family separations at the border, a dismantling of environmental protections, and judicial appointments that have systematically gutted reproductive rights. And despite his record, Trump’s supporters see him as a symbol of a bygone era—a sanitized version of America that never truly existed, but one they long for nonetheless. With the U.S. expected to be minority white by 2045, according to Census projections, it’s a threat we’re witnessing the consequences of in real time. 

At the same time we are seeing an (un)whitening of America, there is also an ongoing backlash against Black and marginalized communities. When we protest police violence, fight for democracy and fair voting rights, or demand justice in our communities, we're often met with backlash that extends far beyond verbal reprimands. Policies designed to curtail voting access, criminalize protest, and silence activists have been crafted specifically to counteract perceived “gains” made by Black and brown  communities. It’s not that people are necessarily voting against their own interests, it’s that they consider other interests should be prioritized. This election is arguably a continuation of that backlash—a rejection of the idea that Black and brown people, LGBTQ+ folks, and immigrants should have an equal say in this country’s future.

Harris’s loss is emblematic of how deeply this country’s racism and sexism are embedded in its political machinery. She faced criticism that no male candidate ever would, her every move dissected and every misstep amplified. Critics questioned her likeability, a nebulous standard that only seems to apply especially to Black women in leadership roles. There was the thinly veiled contempt over her identity as a Black and South Asian woman, with critics suggesting that she wasn’t “authentic” enough or that her heritage somehow diluted her commitment to Black communities. And while she may not have been the perfect candidate, it’s disingenuous to pretend that bias wasn’t a factor in her loss. Her identity was an asset to many of us, but to the mainstream, it was a reason for suspicion—a reason to believe she was less capable or trustworthy than her male counterparts.

The Harris campaign also had to navigate the Democratic Party’s ongoing crisis of occasionally swaying whichever way the wind blows, a problem the party has refused to address for far too long. The Democratic Party has often leaned into centrism, catering to a middle America that seems to remain perpetually out of reach given the Republican Party’s success every four years. It has focused on winning over the hearts and minds of white, moderate voters rather than centering its most loyal base: Black people, LGBTQ+ folks, young people, and those who have continuously powered the party’s victories. This centrist approach is a fundamental flaw. It ignores the fact that many parts of America are ready for a bold, unapologetic commitment to progressive values, not a watered-down version that tries to please everyone. The results of this election are proof that compromise always costs us too much—and we can no longer afford to play by these outdated rules.

In a recent interview with the New York Times, Congresswoman Nancy Pelosi stated, “We are the kitchen table of the working-class party. And that’s why we are a close call in the House right now in a year where the map is bright red across the board.” Yet Pelosi fails to realize that perhaps the map is bright red across the board because much of the electorate does not believe in what this Democratic Party is selling—and that could be true even if this particular outcome were different. With the possibility of a Republican trifecta, the president-elect has a sweeping mandate to undo many of Biden’s, Pelosi’s, and Democrats’ executive and legislative achievements and we should all be prepared. 

The truth is, the Democratic Party has often been more concerned with maintaining an appearance of inclusivity than genuinely addressing the needs of the marginalized communities it claims to represent. It’s time to acknowledge that this approach is unsustainable and counterproductive. To build a coalition that can withstand the right-wing machine, we must move beyond platitudes and performative gestures. We need real policies that address the issues plaguing our communities: systemic racism, police violence, economic injustice, reproductive restrictions, and the looming threat of climate change. We need leaders who are unafraid to call out injustice, even if it means alienating a few “moderate” voters along the way. We need a message beyond “protect our democracy,” because, while true, it is a losing message when racism is what we are battling. The vast majority of Americans haven’t experienced a democracy they feel worthy of protecting. 

Looking ahead to 2025 and beyond, there’s a message here—one that’s difficult to accept, but that we must heed if we are to make real progress. This election wasn’t just a defeat for Kamala Harris; it was a reminder of the America that did not just exist today. It’s a reminder that the intersection of race and gender remains a powerful barrier, one that Harris and other Black women in politics will continue to face. It’s part of the reason we are, for the first time in history, celebrating two Black women, Lisa Blunt Rochester and Angela Alsobrooks, serving in the U.S. Senate simultaneously. 

But with this reality comes a renewed call to action. If Trump’s victory teaches us anything, it’s that our work is more urgent than ever. We must mobilize harder, strategize smarter, and advocate with the full force of our convictions. This is not a time to retreat to the middle or temper our goals. It’s time to demand an America that doesn’t just pay lip service to the ideals of justice and equality but actively works to embody them.

The road ahead will not be easy, but we have the power to reshape it. We must reforge our commitment to justice, solidarity, and a vision of freedom that includes everyone. We will stand firm, refusing to dilute our voices or quiet our demands. We will continue to build an America that reflects the dreams of those who came before us and the hopes of those yet to come. And as we push forward, let’s remember that progress is never linear—but every setback is also an opportunity to come back stronger, more determined, and more united.

Let this be our message to 2025 and beyond: We will not be silent, and we will not yield. Our communities deserve better, and we will continue to fight for the future we know is possible.

Preston Mitchum is the Founder and CEO of PDM Consulting, a Black and queer-owned advocacy and government relations consulting firm based in Washington, DC.