Kamala Harris expects us to believe she “grew up celebrating Kwanzaa,” a holiday invented two years after she was born by some creepy perv who tortures women. I don’t know about you, but I find that about as believable as someone claiming they grew up riding hoverboards in the ‘70s.
It’s stupid—plain and simple.
Kwanzaa is not some ancient, sacred tradition passed down through the ages of African culture and tradition—it’s a concoction, a 1966 brainfart of Marxist professor Maulana Karenga, who hated Christmas and hated white people and wanted a way to celebrate that sentiment.
Karenga took it upon himself to fabricate this pseudo-heritage out of thin air, claiming to celebrate African roots while anchoring it to nothing in particular. What we’re left with is a hollow invention—a cultural placebo to distract from the genuine richness of African faith and tradition.
And Karenga himself? Hardly a figure to inspire reverence. Within just a few years of "creating" Kwanzaa, Karenga found himself in prison for kidnapping and torturing two women.
Let that sink in—a man convicted of tying up and abusing women with soldering irons and detergents is the father of this supposed celebration of community and values. Is this the legacy Kamala Harris claims to have embraced as a child? Did the Harris household gather ‘round each December to honor a man whose rap sheet reads like a horror novel?