“You think you just fell out of a coconut tree?”
Let me begin by saying it’s O.K. if the set of sentences above looks like gibberish to you. Most of you are not Gen Z TikTok natives like me—and you (and your screen time) are probably better for it.
But if you’ve had a TikTok account at any time over the past few years, you might know that Vice President Kamala Harris has been something of a meme machine since before day one in the White House. From her big laugh to soundbites from her speeches and engagements, it is hard to open the app without hearing the sound of her voice. And ever since President Joe Biden dropped out of the 2024 race and threw his full-throated support behind the candidacy of his vice president, her ubiquitousness on the app has reached an all-time high.
So if you’re not familiar, I’ll quickly catch you up to speed on the snippets above:
“We did it, Joe.”
A clip of the vice president (then vice president-elect) taking a phone call from then President-elect Biden after they clinched victory in the 2020 election. Internet memers have since used this quote to celebrate accomplishments of all kinds, particularly ones conquered with friends. (I’ve been known to use this one at the end of a long work day.)
We did it, @JoeBiden. pic.twitter.com/oCgeylsjB4
— Kamala Harris (@KamalaHarris) November 7, 2020
“Kamala IS brat.”
Charli xcx is the musical artist behind the album “Brat.” I’d call it the album of the summer, but I’m not sure that quite captures the effect it has had on Gen Z since it was released in June. Those who aspire to “Brat summer” find inspiration in the beats of Charli’s club music—but also in the aggressively green and intentionally blurry aesthetic of the album rollout. “Brat summer” is, for lack of a better term, a vibe, a spirit, an energy to bring into this season.
Gen Z’s amateur video editors on TikTok got to work setting Kamala Harris clips to the beat of “Brat,” even remixing its hits with the sound of her signature laugh. Charli herself crowned Vice President Harris as emblematic of the album’s spirit in a short tweet: “Kamala IS brat.”
“You think you just fell out of a coconut tree?”
I saved this one for last because it’s my personal favorite. At a White House event in 2023, the vice president spoke to the younger generation, passing on wisdom her mother shared with her when she was young.
“My mother used to—she would give us a hard time sometimes, and she would say to us, ‘I don’t know what’s wrong with you young people. You think you just fell out of a coconut tree?’” Ms. Harris said, laughing.
She went on to explain her mother’s meaning: “You exist in the context of all in which you live and what came before you.” In other words, you did not, in fact, just fall out of a coconut tree and end up here.
The clip, perhaps ironically, is often shared without that last all-important bit of context. And when you hear the vice president bringing up an unfamiliar expression about a coconut tree and giggling, you’d be forgiven for saying “...what?”
Gen Z is giggling along with her, though. If you see these emojis 🥥🌴 on your social media feed or family text chain, now you know why.
I could go on; I still haven’t even touched on the vice president’s love for Venn diagrams or her tips for brining a turkey or the glee that the sight of her campaign bus brings her, but alas, we don’t have all day.
The memes were all fun and games when she was second in command in the White House and not on the top of the ticket heading into November’s undoubtedly consequential election. But since the winds have swiftly changed and Ms. Harris is now running against Donald J. Trump for president, I’ve spoken to loved ones who worry that the memes will hurt her presidential bid, making her seem unserious and silly when the candidate should instead project stateliness and a dignified presence.
I understand the concerns, but I’m not so worried about the implications of a candidate with a less formal personality—particularly when her identity already veers in many ways from that of the presidents and candidates who have come before her. Perhaps Gen Z has a different mental picture than our elders when we hear the term “presidential,” one that is less defined, contains multitudes and leaves space for lightness and humor.
In light of that, my feeling is: Let Kamala Harris be a meme. If it’s happening authentically, why get in its way? And as American Catholics, why should we be afraid of people laughing? Why should we be afraid of joy?
In June, Pope Francis addressed humor in the spiritual life when he spoke to a group of comedians visiting the Vatican. He said to them:
In your own way, you unite people, because laughter is contagious. It is easier to laugh together than alone: joy opens us to sharing and is the best antidote to selfishness and individualism. Laughter also helps to break down social barriers, create connections among people, and allows us to express emotions and thoughts, contributing to building a shared culture and creating spaces of freedom. You remind us that homo sapiens is also homo ludens! For playful fun and laughter are central to human life, to express ourselves, to learn, and to give meaning to situations.
What an awesome play on Latin words—the pope says we are an intelligent species but also a playing, laughing species. He gives people of faith permission to value and embrace both aspects. As Catholics, when we feel tempted to be sticks in the mud or to prove our seriousness to others, let’s remember this. Play is a part of who we are, of how we connect.
Of course the job of president is not to be a comedian. But true joy and laughter often convey an authenticity that we the people desire in a presidential candidate. And with regard to the vice president’s authenticity, there’s an important distinction to make: Up until now, the memes have not been part of a coordinated social media strategy from Ms. Harris’s team. The clips and edits have been made and circulated by civilians, usually young, who speak the language of TikTok fluently. They’re not making them professionally; they’re not doing it for a check. They’re not even, in most cases, making them with the express purpose of convincing people to vote for the vice president. They’re using their internet savvy to make a joke that their friends online, who also speak TikTok, will love.
As a member of Gen Z who manages social media at my job, I hope Ms. Harris and her team don’t try to mimic young amateurs or manufacture a hyper-curated strategy for virality. I hope they remember that young people are most effectively influenced by their peers, other young people. I’d rather see Ms. Harris being herself through Gen Z’s eyes; I’d rather not open my TikTok app tomorrow and see that the official campaign account has posted a video of her doing the latest viral dance.
Seeing young people’s enthusiasm for just about anything warms my heart. I’m used to hearing other generations’ estimation that my generation is too cynical and jaded to believe they can work for change, and sometimes, in myself, I see their point. It’s also particularly poignant to see Gen Z crafting their own means of connection with the political process, no matter how silly the mode might seem to some, because young voter turnout in this country is relatively low. Just over half of eligible voters between the ages of 18 and 24 showed up to cast their ballots in the last presidential election, and that marked a significant increase from their participation in 2016. While it’s much too early to say that TikTok edits will translate to increased Gen Z voter turnout, engagement in and knowledge of the democratic process’s unfoldings feels within reach.
One word comes up often when you hear about efforts to engage young people, from politics to church: relatability. If you can get young people to relate to you, you can get them invested; you can make them feel like you’re offering them somewhere they can find a sense of belonging. It’s an elusive goal chased by institutions that see their youth participation dwindling.
Humor is a shortcut to relatability for Gen Z, a group that uses quips to cope with the sense of dread we feel about the state of the world and what the future offers our generation. I’m glad that some leaders of institutions to which I belong see and appreciate that, and I hope those who haven’t already gotten the message can learn something from them. But humor can’t be the ultimate end of relatability, especially if the leaders we’re relating to have the responsibility of representing us.
If Kamala Harris and a new generation of leadership want their relationship with Gen Z to go beyond memes, they should also relate to us through a shared hunger for justice. They ought to represent a heart for the social issues about which Gen Z refuses to become apathetic: ending poverty and homelessness, L.G.B.T.Q. inclusion, mental health awareness, fighting violence and genocide around the world. While Gen Z struggles to figure out if the United States represents the kind of promise for their generation that it did for our ancestors, institutional leaders have a pivotal role to play—serving the people well enough to revive a generation’s faith in our country.
Gen Z loves a good meme. But we love authenticity more.
