In this moment of political uncertainty and rising kleptocracy, we need bold, visionary leadership at the state level—and no one is better positioned than Vice President Kamala Harris to step into that space. As a daughter of Oakland, a Howard University graduate, and a proud member of Alpha Kappa Alpha Sorority, Inc., Vice-President Harris embodies the legacy of Black excellence, resilience, and principled leadership. And now, she has a chance to make history again—as the first Black woman Governor of California. And that kind of history hits differently when you’re a graduate of Howard University and a proud member of Alpha Kappa Alpha Sorority, Incorporated.

For HBCU students and alumni, Vice-President Harris is more than a politician—she’s a reflection of what’s possible. She represents the brilliance cultivated on The Yard, the power of Black sisterhood, and the excellence that flows from institutions too often overlooked by the mainstream. Her presence in the White House was a moment. Her leadership from Sacramento could be a movement.

Let’s not forget: California is the fifth-largest economy in the world, trailing only the U.S., China, Japan, and Germany. It’s not just a state—it’s a global superpower. Silicon Valley alone is shaping the future of everything from AI and biotech to green energy and digital finance. It’s rapidly becoming a West Coast bookend to Wall Street—less traditional but no less powerful. If you want to lead where the future is being built, California is the place to be. And we need someone in the Governor’s office who understands both the responsibility and opportunity that comes with that.

And Vice-President Harris has the receipts. As San Francisco’s District Attorney, she launched programs that HBCU students studying criminal justice or public policy would be proud of: an innovative reentry initiative that focused on education and employment over incarceration, and a refusal to seek the death penalty even in high-profile cases—standing firmly on principle when it wasn’t politically convenient. She understood then—as she does now—that public safety doesn’t have to come at the expense of justice or humanity.

She brought that same sharpness to the U.S. Senate. Who could forget her precise, unshakable questioning during confirmation hearings? Whether it was Jeff Sessions stammering through answers or Brett Kavanaugh visibly uncomfortable, she reminded the nation what accountability looks like when wielded by someone who knows the law and respects the people. She wasn’t grandstanding—she was governing in real time.

But beyond the politics, this matters for the culture. Young Black girls in Compton, in the Bronx, in rural Mississippi—girls who are flipping through history books and wondering where they fit—deserve to see themselves not just as assistants to power, but as power itself. They deserve to see Black women occupying offices once reserved for white men. They deserve to see what leadership looks like when it has rhythm, reason, and righteous roots.

Kamala’s journey from Howard to the White House—and potentially to the Governor’s mansion—isn’t just about her. It’s about us. It’s about what we say is possible for our community. And it’s about the pipeline of powerful, brilliant Black women coming behind her.

And we can’t talk about California’s promise without lifting up institutions like Charles R. Drew University of Medicine and Science—a proudly designated HBCU training the next generation of Black and Brown doctors and health professionals. Located in the heart of South Los Angeles, Drew has been a quiet giant in the fight against health disparities, especially when it comes to Black maternal and child health. We know the numbers—Black women are three to four times more likely to die from pregnancy-related complications than white women. It’s not genetics—it’s racism, neglect, and a system that was never built for us. Institutions like Drew are not just teaching medicine—they are teaching justice. They are anchoring care in communities that have been overlooked, and they are shaping a new generation of physicians who see our people, who hear us, who believe us. Vice-President Harris knows this. She has spoken passionately about these disparities—and as Governor, she could deepen investment in schools like Drew, and in the lives of the mothers, babies, and families who deserve to thrive.

Running for Governor wouldn’t close the door to the White House. If anything, it adds to her résumé and builds a legacy of executive leadership. It gives her the space to lead boldly and visibly, on her own terms.

And to my HBCU family and Divine Nine siblings—this is our moment, too. Let’s not wait on permission to move. Let’s get ready to raise money and raise our voices. Let’s prepare to knock doors, staff phone banks, show up in barbershops and beauty salons, in churches and mosques, at community centers and campuses across the state. We know how to mobilize. We know how to organize. And if VP Harris steps into this race, we need to surround her with the full power of our institutions, our legacy, and our love. Because when one of us rises, we all rise.

So yes, Madam Vice President—we see you. And if California is calling, I hope you answer.

Because HBCU excellence belongs everywhere—including the highest office in the Golden State.