In under two months, Americans witnessed President Biden’s pitiful debate performance, the near assassination of former President Trump, Biden’s withdrawal from the race, the Republican and Democratic National Conventions, the selection of both major parties’ vice-presidential candidates, and Vice President Harris’ lock on her party’s nomination for president.

This maelstrom of activity makes it difficult to remember the recent political landscape. This delights Harris and the Democrats. After all, as recently as May, Harris was just as unpopular as Biden and Trump. Since that time, the bumbling Vice President, with the help of the media, has ascended to political and pop culture stardom.

A curious aspect of Harris’ rise is the effort to make her and her supporters “brat.” If the sudden surge in use of this normally derisive term, along with an embrace of off putting shade of green confuses you, let me explain.

Once released, I’ve drenched myself in British electropop star Charli XCX’s latest album “Brat,” which is being piped into every club and house party on both sides of the Atlantic. We’re both in our early thirties and I’ve followed Charli’s modestly successful career for about a decade. Despite my mild but persistent fandom, I did not anticipate her latest album, which is nominally an ode to party girl club life, to become this summer’s smash album.

Her unlikely hit meshed with the increasingly bizarre presidential election after Charli XCX declared on “X” that “kamala IS brat”.

Since then, the media and Harris’ supporters want to ride this pop culture moment by churning out think pieces, explainers, and video analyses on what’s so brat about Kamala. In reality, most of this activity is thinly disguised celebrations of Harris’ rise. Except for diehard partisans, such tin-eared sophistry should cause any voter that takes his civic duties seriously to shudder.

But it is worth considering what Charli’s latest album actually says. From female competition, to mincing one’s words, celebrating drug fueled partying, and longing for a child, the album reflects on our culture and politics in ways that should give pause.

So, what would it mean for Kamala Harris and her campaign to be truly brat?

To begin, as Harris accepted her party’s nomination for president Thursday night, the lyrics of “Sympathy is a Knife” may have echoed in her head. Through the thumping club beats, Charli anguishes about female rivalry and jealousy by singing:

“Cause I couldn’t even be her if I tried
I’m opposite, I’m on the other side
I feel all these feelings I can’t control
Oh no, don’t know why
All this sympathy is just a knife
Why I can’t even grit my teeth and lie?”

If Harris is brat, that means the popularity and effortless charm of former First Lady Michelle Obama, who spoke on Tuesday night, must relentlessly dog Harris, regardless of her own success. Afterall, Michelle Obama’s smooth rhetoric stands in piercing contrast to the clanky delivery and vacuous messaging that’s become Harris’ trademark.

Given this tendency, Harris might find comfort in one of “Brat’s” only melancholy songs, “I Might Say Something Stupid.”

Also, the Obamas’ adulation of President Biden at the convention must ring hollow considering the knife sticking out of Biden’s back.

How relatable. How brat.

Or rather, Harris might connect with “Mean Girls,” which is about, you guessed it, a mean girl who’s “in vogue,” wears a lot of white, and has a “razor shape tongue.”  If that doesn’t describe former Congresswoman Tulsi Gabbard and her epic takedown of Harris during the 2020 Democratic presidential primary, I don’t know what does.

While we’re remembering Harris’ disastrous 2020 campaign, it is worth thinking about another “Brat” song, “Spring Breakers,” which, once again, says it all in the title. The song’s reckless party girl gleefully announces, “Hi, it’s me, you’re all in danger.” This calls to mind Harris’ declaration that if Congress failed to pass gun control legislation to her satisfaction, she would act unilaterally as president.

“Hi America, it’s me Kamala Harris, your Second Amendment rights are in danger.”

Keep the brat coming, Madam Vice President.

Harris has emphasized “freedom” as a core tenant of her campaign. And what does a brat do with her freedom? Well, she encouragingly asks her friends, “Should we do a little key? Should we have a little line?” This is the energy and theme of the song “365,” which celebrates the freedom to be irresponsible.

The limitations of freedom and the search for purpose rush forward unexpectedly in “I Think About It All the Time.” This is where the social and political commentary implicit to “Brat” gets complicated and it shouldn’t be happily embraced nor readily dismissed.

At its core, the album celebrates unconstrained feminism while confronting the challenges of female friendship. Men hardly feature in the album. This song is the exception only insofar as men are needed for procreation. Here, both political parties need to confront the challenges facing the woman, which is likely a semi-biographical version of Charli, in this song.

After visiting friends that recently had a baby, the narrator considers the joys of motherhood but worries “that I might run out of time.” On the other hand, she wonders if motherhood “would it make me miss all my freedom?” and while walking home, she asks herself, “Should I stop my birth control?”

Whichever political party addresses this woman’s pain, which is increasingly common among educated Millennial and Gen Z women, can expect electoral success. This song is a pop culture reflection of an issue that requires attention and respect.

But given Harris’ embrace of freedom for freedom’s sake, and the DNC’s worship of a golden calf, I mean, an IUD, a brat’s answer to these questions is “No.” If you’re unsure about kids, don’t have them. Just keep “bumpin’ that” and it’ll all be fine.

The Trump/Vance ticket has not provided this woman with anything other than snickering about cat ladies. What a missed opportunity.

It turns out brats have feelings and aspirations too.

Beneath the blaring beats and hard partying lyrics, “Brat” gets at something fundamental: men and women are increasingly divided, delayed childbirth is fueling anxieties, and freedom has its limits.

So, brat beware.

Seth Higgins, a native of Saint Marys, Pennsylvania, specializes in bringing conservative thought to local government. Seth is a former Tablet Magazine Fellow and a former Krauthammer Fellow with The Tikvah Fund.