The moment I met Kamala, I knew I was in love. Not just because of who she is—the warm, funny, and compassionate woman who grounds our family—but also because of the deep resolve with which she fights for the causes she believes in. As we built our lives together, we began joining our families and traditions. And though I had always admired and supported her work, until recently, our professional lives had remained separate worlds.
That changed the day Joe Biden called and asked her to join the ticket as his running mate. On that day it quickly became clear that this wasn’t just about my love for my wife, but also about my love for this country. Stepping back from my career as an entertainment lawyer was a decision that we made together—this was about something bigger than either of us.
I was so touched by the kindness that Joe and Jill showed in welcoming us in as “honorary Bidens.” We soon learned that we shared a bond, rooted in family and service—and the immense responsibility that we were taking on together. To be sure, I had some sense of what I was signing up to do. But once I got out on the trail alongside Joe and Jill and Kamala, the full picture of what our country was facing came into focus, and I had a chance to see America like I had never seen it before. The folks I met, and the stories I heard, will be with me forever.
In so many ways, our nation is in pain right now, and that’s not something I will ever be able to unsee.
The moment Kamala joined the ticket, I was swept along for the ride. It was a pretty humbling experience. I had never given a stump speech or worked a (COVID-safe) rope line, and let’s be honest—no one knew who I was. All of a sudden, people were asking me for photos. Reporting on every word I said. Speculating about my policy stances and thoughts on a future administration’s priorities. It was surreal.
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So I started with the easy stuff: How could I help the team? I called as many field organizers as I could to thank them. I asked them why they got in this fight, and then I just listened. I spoke with a college student in Denver who was going door-to-door to organize her dorm. A veteran and home health worker who had to take extra shifts at work, but was using every spare second to advocate for good jobs and quality, affordable health care for all. A young woman from North Omaha, who was excited to cast her first ballot for the first Black woman vice president. She wants to be a lawyer so she can change our justice system for the better… just like Joe and Kamala.
Before long, something clicked. This wasn’t just her work anymore — it was ours. As the campaign took us to different corners of the country, I took notes on what I heard out on the trail and shared them with Kamala over late night meals and stolen moments between events. The mom whose daughter has pre-existing conditions—and will die if she’s kicked off her health care. The seniors forced to visit their grandchildren, see their friends, or say their final goodbyes through a computer screen. The nurses and essential workers remaining on the job despite shortages of equipment to protect them from the virus.
It all stayed with me. I couldn’t shake it. And I didn’t want to. Virtually overnight, I went from being a lawyer to being a member of a team fighting for justice and trying to turn the page on a dark chapter in our nation’s history.
I found that as I began dipping my toe into Kamala’s world, it brought us even closer together. I realized how much of yourself you leave on the trail, how much these stories weigh on you, and—though I couldn’t imagine it possible before this—I grew to understand and admire who she is and what she’s been able to accomplish even more. She had such a tremendous weight on her shoulders, and we were in a fight for the soul of this nation—together.
As election night drew nearer, the staggering magnitude of the task on the other side of the campaign began to loom large. Should we win (and we knew we had to), the Biden-Harris administration would be taking office during a time of unprecedented crisis for our country.
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Now, much has been made about the new title I will be taking.
I am honored to be the first male spouse of an American President or Vice President. But here’s the truth: generations of women before me have used this platform to advocate for causes they believe in and build trust in our institutions at home and abroad—often without much accolade or acknowledgment.
It’s on their shoulders I stand. And it’s their legacy of progress I will try to build on as Second Gentleman. And fortunately, in this work, I could not have a better friend and partner than Dr. Jill Biden, whose example and advice has been invaluable in navigating every step of this journey.
I also see this through the eyes of our kids, Cole and Ella, each of whom are coming into their own as young adults. I want them to grow up in a world where it isn’t news that a loving partner—of any gender—supports them in everything they do.
It reminds me of a story Kamala likes to tell about her mother Shyamala, who would always say to her daughters, “You may be the first, but you better not be the last.”
I want that to be true of me, too. I may be the first Second Gentleman, but I know I won’t be the last.
Photos courtesy of Douglas Emhoff.
