Staff Reports
Kamala Harris, the Vice President of the United States, has garnered attention for more than just her role in the administration; her path to law school is raising eyebrows. Harris graduated from Howard University, not exactly with a stellar academic record, and secured a spot at Hastings College of the Law, a school that is better recognized as a second-tier institution in the realm of legal education. While Hastings offers a solid education, its rank at 80th in the nation’s ABA-accredited law schools indicates that it is often seen as a fallback choice for many aspiring lawyers.
Navigating the legal school admissions process is challenging, but it seems Harris managed to secure her acceptance through unconventional means. Hastings accepts nearly half of its applicants, meaning many students see it as a safety net rather than their first choice. For those who excel academically, the doors swing wide open. However, Harris’s lack of honors status from Howard raises questions about how she ended up admitted under the school’s Legal Education Opportunity Program (LEOP), which is designed to support students from genuinely disadvantaged backgrounds.
A liar from a very young age. @KamalaHQ
Kamala Harris Got Into Law School Via a Program She Didn't Qualify For https://t.co/BF5shtm7Wf
— ManFromNantucket (@BrianDo43583887) October 23, 2024
The LEOP program was launched to help students who have faced significant educational or economic challenges. Yet, Harris’s upbringing paints a different picture. Raised by two educated parents and groomed in private schools in Canada, she’s hardly the poster child for the kind of disadvantage the program targets. The irony seems glaring as she leveraged her identity for advantages that the program never intended to provide to someone in her socio-economic position.
Harris’s involvement with LEOP suggests a willingness to exploit the system to bolster her claims of overcoming adversity. Just a year before she enrolled, a Politico article described her experience at Hastings as one cushioned by support systems that few of her peers in the program could relate to. This was a group intended to aid those truly disadvantaged, a fact that leaves Harris’s motives looking increasingly suspect. Nevertheless, she proceeded to actively participate in the Black Law Students Association, which seems more like a strategic move than an expression of communal solidarity, especially given the complexities of her ethnoracial identity.
Once involved in the prestigious BLSA, Harris seemingly navigated her way through law school, maintaining a presence but not necessarily impressing faculty with her academic prowess. Reports suggest that while she held positions of influence, there were underlying political biases in how students were selected for LEOP. This raises serious ethical concerns about whether her acceptance was rooted in merit or a calculated alignment with the political climate at the time. One might wonder how many other students, less connected to privileged backgrounds, could have thrived with the same advantages, were they handed the same opportunities.
Harris’s approach to her education and subsequent career reflects a disturbing trend in leveraging identity politics, making it appear as if her success was ensured by a system that favors certain narratives over merit. Critics argue that her career, including her time as a prosecutor and her ascent to high office, seems built on a foundation of manipulated circumstances. As the country grapples with issues of equity and privilege, it seems abundantly clear that Harris’s rise might just be a textbook example of gaming the system, rendering her narrative of struggle and triumph deeply ironic.
