Vulnerable Democratic candidates across multiple states are openly refusing Kamala Harris's campaign help ahead of the midterms, a striking rejection that underscores how far the former vice president's political stock has fallen since her 2024 loss to President Trump.
Iowa Democratic gubernatorial nominee Rob Sand did not mince words when asked whether he wanted Harris on the trail with him. "No thanks," Sand told Politico. "Let's move on. We need some new leadership." Kansas Senate nominee Adam Hamilton offered a similar brush-off, telling Politico he needs to appeal to Republican voters whose "worldview may be a bit different than Kamala Harris." Democratic nominees in Texas and Arizona told The New York Times they had no plans to campaign with her at all.
The pattern is unmistakable. Candidates running in competitive states view Harris not as an asset but as a liability, a walking reminder of the Biden administration's record and a 2024 presidential campaign that ended in defeat. And they are saying so on the record, in public, without apology.
Against that backdrop, Harris traveled to Detroit on Tuesday to campaign alongside Abdul El-Sayed, the progressive former Detroit health director now running as the Democratic nominee for U.S. Senate. El-Sayed is one of the few Democratic candidates actively seeking Harris's help, and his reasons say as much about his own political problems as about her remaining appeal.
El-Sayed faces Republican Mike Rogers in a race that could help determine Senate control. He is running on a progressive platform that includes universal healthcare and opposition to U.S. arms sales to Israel, positions that have complicated his coalition-building in a state with both a large Arab American community and a significant Jewish Democratic donor class.
Harris's Detroit visit included a roundtable on Black maternal health and an appearance at a voting-rights forum hosted by the local NAACP chapter. The events targeted Black voters, a constituency El-Sayed needs badly. In the primary, many Black voters had favored his opponent, Rep. Haley Stevens.
El-Sayed told The Associated Press that the visit was about unity. "We're building an electoral coalition here," he said. In a separate interview, he acknowledged the fractures more candidly, saying some Black voters harbored "hurt feelings" because they believed Arab American voters had not done enough to help Harris defeat Trump in 2024.
Harris narrowly lost Michigan to Trump, and the state's Arab American community sharply criticized the Biden administration's support for Israel during the Gaza conflict. El-Sayed framed Harris's visit as a chance to heal those wounds.
"She understood just how frustrating that moment was and the challenges with the Biden-era policy toward Gaza going into 2024. This is an opportunity for us to come together."
That was El-Sayed speaking to MS NOW. But "coming together" is easier said than done when El-Sayed's own campaign ads have drawn scrutiny for their ties to controversial activist groups.
El-Sayed's progressive stance on Israel has created a problem inside his own party that Harris's presence cannot fix. Barry Goodman, a DNC member and Michigan Democratic fundraiser, put it bluntly: "Jews in Michigan are currently scared by their Senate options." Some Jewish Democratic voters have crossed party lines to back Republican Rogers because of El-Sayed's opposition to U.S. arms sales to Israel.
That dynamic illustrates the bind Harris finds herself in. The candidates willing to stand beside her are often the ones furthest to the left, candidates whose own positions alienate swing voters and moderate Democrats. Harris becomes a surrogate not for the party's center but for its progressive wing, reinforcing the very association that makes competitive-state candidates run the other direction.
El-Sayed's Senate race also carries broader implications. Harris's decision to stump for him in Michigan is widely seen as a test of whether a progressive platform can win a general election in a battleground state, and whether Harris herself retains enough pull to move voters.
Harris has publicly shrugged off the snubs from fellow Democrats. She told MS NOW this month: "I support them in doing whatever they need to do to win." On a podcast with former U.S. women's soccer star Megan Rapinoe, she said she is focused on the present: "Right now, midterms, midterms, midterms."
But the numbers tell a different story about her future. A UC Berkeley Citrin Center, Politico poll found that just 28 percent of California voters said they were excited about a Harris 2028 presidential run, down 13 percentage points since March. Among Democrats and Democratic-leaning voters, 55 percent said they would not be excited about her running again.
Only 10 percent of respondents believed Harris had a better chance than California Governor Gavin Newsom. Newsom himself told CNN last week that he doesn't think Harris will run again, though he said he would defer to her if she did. A July fundraising document obtained by The New York Times had presented Harris as a potentially valuable midterm surrogate and sought money for her political travel, a pitch that looks increasingly disconnected from reality.
Michigan now holds the fifth presidential preference primary under the DNC's revised 2028 nominating calendar, which adds strategic significance to Harris's Detroit appearance. If she is laying groundwork for another run, Michigan would be an early proving ground. But her decision to campaign there alongside one of the party's most progressive nominees does little to broaden her appeal beyond the base that already supported her.
Beyond Michigan, Harris is scheduled to campaign in Nevada with Democratic gubernatorial nominee Aaron Ford and in Georgia with Senator Jon Ossoff. She is also expected to appear with two unnamed Democratic congressional candidates in California. The common thread: none of these are the competitive-state moderates who would signal broad party confidence in Harris as a messenger.
The candidates who need to win over independents and crossover voters, in Iowa, Kansas, Texas, and Arizona, want nothing to do with her. That divide is not subtle, and Democratic operatives are not pretending otherwise. Sand's "no thanks" and Hamilton's careful distancing were delivered to major national outlets, not whispered off the record.
El-Sayed's own record of controversial past statements adds another layer of risk to Harris's Michigan bet. She is not simply campaigning for a generic Democrat; she is lending her name to a candidate whose positions on healthcare funding and Israel have generated sustained criticism from within his own party.
Harris became the first woman and first Black person to serve as vice president. That history earned her a place in the party's identity. But identity does not win midterms, and the candidates closest to the voters who will decide these races have made their calculation clear.
When your own party's candidates treat your endorsement like a warning label, the problem is not messaging. It is the messenger.
