I Am Kamala Harris
I Am Kamala Harris
Author(s):
Maryann Cusimano LoveMaria Love
Publication Date: 17 September, 2021
Available in all formats
Publisher: Global Collective Publishers
ISBN: 9781954021396
ISBN: 9781954021396
Price: INR 564.99
Description
Table of contents
I am Kamala Harris. As soon as I could stand, I began standing up for justice. When I was a toddler, my parents took me to Civil Rights marches, in California, where I was born. People sang joyful songs of freedom. They painted colorful signs, saying “Love your Neighbor,” “Freedom,” and “Equal Justice Under the Law.” People of every color and background were kind to each other, working together make the American Dream come true for everybody. It was like a rainbow parade for fairness. I loved it.
Once, I slipped out of my stroller at a march. My mother hugged me to comfort my fussing. “What do you want, baby?” She asked. “Fweedom!” I answered, just like the other civil rights marchers. The family laughed. But I meant it.
Once, I slipped out of my stroller at a march. My mother hugged me to comfort my fussing. “What do you want, baby?” She asked. “Fweedom!” I answered, just like the other civil rights marchers. The family laughed. But I meant it.
Description
I am Kamala Harris. As soon as I could stand, I began standing up for justice. When I was a toddler, my parents took me to Civil Rights marches, in California, where I was born. People sang joyful songs of freedom. They painted colorful signs, saying “Love your Neighbor,” “Freedom,” and “Equal Justice Under the Law.” People of every color and background were kind to each other, working together make the American Dream come true for everybody. It was like a rainbow parade for fairness. I loved it.
Once, I slipped out of my stroller at a march. My mother hugged me to comfort my fussing. “What do you want, baby?” She asked. “Fweedom!” I answered, just like the other civil rights marchers. The family laughed. But I meant it.
Once, I slipped out of my stroller at a march. My mother hugged me to comfort my fussing. “What do you want, baby?” She asked. “Fweedom!” I answered, just like the other civil rights marchers. The family laughed. But I meant it.
Table of contents
- Cover
- Title
- Chapter 1
- Back Cover