Kamala Harris' Election Night Watch

The mood changed sometime around 10:30 p.m. Eastern.

Several hours earlier, the scene at Howard University Yard had been joyful: everything glittering and sequined and waving American flags. The earrings were large and the straps were full. Men in fraternity jackets and women in pink tweed suits danced to a bass playlist of hip-hop and classic rock. The Howard Gospel Choir, in bright blue robes, sang a beautiful rendition of “Oh Happy Day,” and people sang along in a way that made you feel like the university's alumna of the hour, Kamala Harris, had already won.

But Harris hadn't won – a fact that was already becoming apparent by 10:30 p.m. As the evening progressed, the groups of high-spirited sisters and VIP alumni stopped dancing and focused on the projector screens, which delivered a steady stream of mediocre-at-best and sometimes bleak news for Democrats. No encouragement had yet come from the all-important blue wall states of Pennsylvania, Michigan and Wisconsin. Somewhere between Georgia's blushing and Sen. Ted Cruz's destruction of Colin Allred in Texas, participants began streaming out of the background.

Even then, it seemed pretty obvious that Donald Trump would be declared the winner of the 2024 presidential election. And just after 5:30 a.m. East Coast this morning, he was the one when the Associated Press called Wisconsin for him, giving him a majority in the Electoral College, even though a number of states have yet to declare. A general shift to the right, from Michigan to Manhattan, had dashed Democrats' hopes in an election that had indicated for weeks that it was virtually undecided. But a Trump victory was a reality that almost everyone at Harris' watch party seemed to have prepared for only in theory.

Before last night, Democrats were optimistic about a final shot of hopium. While Harris stuck to his message, Trump had a seemingly disastrous final week: His closing argument was incoherent; his rally at Madison Square Garden was a parade of racism; He tripped while getting into a garbage truck and looked particularly orange in photos. Democratic insiders raved that early voting totals were in Harris' favor and that undecided voters in swing states would agree. Then there was Ann Selzer's highly publicized poll in Iowa, which suggested the state could go blue for the first time since Barack Obama's presidency.

On a windy and unseasonably warm evening in Washington, D.C., thousands of people had gathered on the grassy campus of Harris' alma mater to hopefully watch history being made. No one mentioned Trump when I asked them how they felt — just how excited they were to have voted for someone like Harris. Kerry-Ann Hamilton and Meka Simmons, both members of Delta Sigma Theta sorority, gathered to witness the election of the country's first black female president. “She’s so well qualified…” Hamilton began to say. “Overqualified!” Simmons interjected.

Leah Johnson, who works at Howard and grew up in Washington, told me she would probably leave the event early to watch the return home with her mother and 12-year-old daughter. “It’s a celebratory intergenerational affair,” she said. “I can say, ‘Look, Mom, we already have Barack Obama; Look what we're doing now!'”

Everyone I spoke to used similar words and phrases: a lot Firsts and historicals and references to the glass ceiling that proved so stubbornly unbreakable in 2016. Attendees cheered in unison at the news that Harris had taken Colorado and booed when Trump won Mississippi. A group of women in tight dresses danced to “1, 2 Step” by Ciara and Missy Elliott. Howard's president led the alumni in the crowd in a call-and-response conversation that made the whole evening feel a little like a football game – just fun, low stakes.

Several people I spoke to refused to entertain the idea that Harris wouldn't win. “I won’t even think about it,” a woman named Sharonda, who didn’t want to give her last name, told me. She sat with her sisters in matching pink and green sweatshirts. Soon, however, the crowd began to grow restless. “It was nice when they turned off the TV and played Kendrick,” said one attendee, who worked at the White House and did not want to give her name. “Just participating in this restores my soul, even if the outcome is not what I want,” Christine Slaughter, a political science professor at Boston University, told me. She was careful. She instinctively remembers the moment Trump won in 2016, and the memory can easily be recalled now. “I know that feeling,” she said. She consoled herself: she had been knocked down before. She came to terms with it again.

Harris herself was expected to speak around 11 p.m., but by midnight she still had not shown up. People were biting their cheeks and scrolling on their phones. When Angela Alsobrooks defeated Larry Hogan in the U.S. Senate election in Maryland, a roar of celebration erupted. But soon the trickle of enthusiastic participants became a steady stream. Potentially decisive results from Pennsylvania and Wisconsin weren't coming soon, but Michigan wasn't looking good. North Carolina was about to be called for Trump.

I sent text messages to some of my usual Democratic sources and received mostly radio silence in response. “How are you feeling?” I asked someone who had been at the party before. “Left,” she replied. Mike Murphy, an anti-Trump Republican consultant, texted me back around 12:30 p.m.: “Shoot me.”

Donors and VIPs streamed through the side entrance. Comedian Billy Eichner sadly walked by as the Sugarhill Gang's “Apache (Jump on It)” played over the speakers. A man took me aside: “There will be no speech, I assume?” he said. It was more of a comment than a question.

“I'm depressed and disappointed,” said Mark Long, a D.C. software salesman who wore a T-shirt with a picture of Harris as a child. He was particularly upset by the pro-Trump trend among black men. “I'm sad. Not just for tonight, but for what that means.” Elicia Spearman appeared angry as she left the venue. “If it’s Trump, the people will reap what they sow,” she said. “It’s karma.”

Shortly before 1 a.m.: Cedric, co-chair of the Harris campaign Richmond came on stage and announced that the candidate would not be speaking that evening. The former Louisiana representative offered hushed encouragement to the crowd, an unofficial farewell. “Thank you for being here. “Thank you for believing in the promise of America,” he said, adding, “Go, Kamala Harris!” The rest of the crowd cheered weakly. Some stadium lights went out.