Black Women Prosecutors Are Under Attack—Just Like Kamala Harris | Opinion

As soon as Vice President Kamala Harris emerged as the presumptive Democratic nominee for president, critics wasted no time labeling her a “DEI hire,” insinuating she was not qualified for the role. Not only do these attacks disregard her impressive record as vice president, United States senator, California attorney general, and the elected district attorney of San Francisco, but they echo harmful stereotypes used to undermine Black women prosecutors. As a Black woman and former prosecutor, I am deeply concerned that these attacks will deter aspiring Black female lawyers from pursuing careers in prosecution.
The past decade has marked a significant increase in the election of Black women prosecutors. They have stood as trailblazers in their commitment to reforming the criminal justice system. Many are leaving office today amid a surge of identity-related attacks, including false accusations of corruption, incompetence, and “reverse racism.” Governors, state legislatures, and the courts have employed unprecedented tools—including suspensions, preemption bills, and the appointment of special prosecutors—to remove their authority. These attacks are not only anti-Black but also deeply misogynistic, perpetuating harmful stereotypes that seek to delegitimize Black women in prosecutorial roles.
In a powerful panel hosted by the Institute for Innovation in Prosecution at John Jay College (“IIP”), Black women prosecutors shared their experiences of facing misogynoir, death threats, and unwarranted scrutiny in their roles. Cook County (IL) State Attorney Kim Foxx said that the opposition to Black female top prosecutors stems from the belief that Black women should be “subjected to the system… not be in charge of it.” Foxx further stated, “People do not just threaten to remove me; I am going to be raped first and then hung from a tree.” Similarly, Fulton County District Attorney Fani Willis—who is currently fighting to keep the high-profile prosecution of Donald Trump—noted that “people…call me the n-word more than they call me Fani.”
The attacks on Black women prosecutors not only undermine their authority and dignity but also pose a threat to the future of the profession. The persistent hostility could discourage Black women from pursuing careers in prosecution, ultimately limiting their representation in leadership positions. The nature of the attacks has led me to question whether I would still choose the same career path if I graduated from law school today.
Take Monique Worrell, the second Black woman elected as state attorney for Florida’s 9th Judicial Circuit. Worrell was targeted by Gov. Ron DeSantis (R) who cited a “neglect of duty and incompetence” and suspended her—despite data showing she prosecuted cases at the same rate as her predecessor and oversaw a 10 percent decrease in violent crime. She is currently running for reelection, and a new poll shows her 11 points ahead of her successor, Andrew Bain.
Meanwhile, in California, District Attorney Pamela Price, the first Black district attorney in Alameda County’s 174-year history, faces a recall election set for November 2024. Despite Oakland’s lengthy, documented history of violent crime—problems for which the public did not blame the county’s longtime white prosecutor—Price is the first Alameda district attorney to face a recall election. Immediately after taking office, Price faced identity-related attacks and received multiple death threats, including one calling for a bullet to her head.
Former St. Louis Circuit Attorney Kim Gardner was dubbed a “menace to society” by the local police union—a racist trope playing into fears about Black women in power. Even her resignation announcement was not enough for the Missouri attorney general, who demanded that she vacate her position even sooner to save the community from what he absurdly deemed “more danger.”
Inflammatory rhetoric is not only dangerous: it will discourage aspiring Black female lawyers from joining the profession and risk pushing current Black female prosecutors out of the field. It sets back the entire criminal justice movement, stripping our field of the valuable talent and perspective that Black women prosecutors offer.
While diversity in the prosecutorial profession is not in and of itself a solution to inequities in the criminal justice system, it is nonetheless a crucial part of ensuring that all community members see themselves represented in the institutions that are charged with keeping them safe. The attacks on Black women in prosecutorial positions not only threaten the authority and dignity of these individuals: they also have the potential to drive Black attorneys and law students away from the prosecution profession. The relentless hostility and disdain faced by Black women prosecutors will choke off the pipeline to leadership roles.
To address this issue, it’s crucial for fellow prosecutors to actively and consistently provide support to Black women prosecutors when they face identity-based attacks. Furthermore, media organizations should establish and enforce protocols to prevent the use of racist and sexist tropes in their reporting and storytelling. These strategies include defending the vice president from racist and sexist attacks. We must denounce misogynistic and racist remarks, promote the positive work of Black women prosecutors, and establish safe spaces for Black women to be in community with one another. If we don’t acknowledge the misogynoir now—and put a stop to these attacks—I fear that there won’t be any Black women prosecutors left.
Chantelle Williams is a policy attorney at the Institute for Innovation in Prosecution at John Jay College. She previously worked as a prosecutor in the Bronx, New York.
The views expressed in this article are the writer’s own.