Donald Trump and I had never met. So when he walked right to his podium, I strode past mine over to him, extended my hand, and introduced myself. It wasn’t a tactic. I always shake hands when I meet someone for the first time. I’d told my prep team I would do it, because it was the natural and polite thing to do. Trump’s eyes widened; he hadn’t expected this. He took my outstretched hand almost deferentially. “Kamala Harris,” I said. “Let’s have a good debate.” In rehearsals, someone suggested saying, “It’s pronounced KAmala.” But at the last minute I decided not to. It felt bitchy. It was the
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