Kamala's Karma

Shyamala immigrated to America from her native India in the early 1960s. "I came to study at UC Berkeley," she remembers. "I never came to stay. It's the old story: I fell in love with a guy, we got married, pretty soon kids came." The guy she married was Donald Harris, who later became a Stanford economics professor.

Kamala was born in 1964; her sister Maya arrived two years later. The maternal side of the family has a tradition of public service. Shyamala's father was a high-ranking Indian civil servant; her mother was an upper-class feminist concerned that the women who did her laundry were the victims of domestic violence.

"In Indian society we go by birth," Shyamala explains. "We are Brahmins, that is the top caste. Please do not confuse this with class, which is only about money. For Brahmins, the bloodline is the most important. My family, named Gopalan, goes back more than 1,000 years."

By marrying an American, Shyamala was the first person to break the ancient Gopalan bloodline. The union collapsed when Kamala was 5. ("My father is a good guy, but we are not close," she says.) Shyamala earned a doctorate in endocrinology from Berkeley and went on to become an internationally recognized expert in breast cancer research.

A conversation with Shyamala ranges from genealogy to the sociology of cancer to comparative religion and the nature of karma. "We are not born to a higher purpose," she reflects. "Karma simply means ... we schlep. We do what we must, and the less we dwell on it the better.

"But karma is not passive: Every action is based upon intention. The only question is: Are you aware of your intentions? Of the consequences of your actions?" She makes no comment about the ironic karmic fallout of her elder daughter's relationship with the mayor of San Francisco.

Shyamala says that, like her own parents, she did not idly praise the accomplishments of her children as they grew. She expected them to excel in their studies, and they did.

Harris attended public schools in Oakland and Montreal (where she studied art). Then it was off to Howard University, a traditionally African-American college in Washington, D.C. She graduated in 1986 with a degree in political science and economics. During her student years, Harris organized mentor programs for minority youths, demonstrated against apartheid, and pledged a socially significant black sorority, Alpha Kappa Alpha.

She reveled in the blackness of Howard. "Close your eyes and imagine: Every Friday night, 10,000 students get dressed up and go out in the yard of Howard University," Harris recently told a youthful audience at a Western Addition church. "It is like a promenade, like the mating season. There is a yard filled with thousands of young people who look like you -- and they are all college students!"

Back in the Bay Area, Harris earned a law degree from Hastings in 1989. She was quickly hired as an assistant district attorney for Alameda County, telling her mother that the world needs socially aware prosecutors. She specialized in child sexual abuse trials, a particularly difficult type of prosecution because juries are, Harris observes, more inclined to accept the word of an adult than a child. (Alameda District Attorney Tom Orloff recollects that Harris has "a good courtroom presence, a high success rate. She is a genuinely good person and her social values will work well in San Francisco.")

When Harris began dating Willie Brown, also an attorney, she had no idea that the affair would generate political consequences for her in the future.

"Black people who go to college have about two degrees of separation with other black professionals, and those who go to law school have even less," Harris explains. "The networks of black lawyers in California are small. Brown and I had lots of mutual friends."

Harris' networks, especially in high society, expanded rapidly while she was going out with one of California's most powerful politicians. The association also had major financial benefits, which Harris talks about reluctantly.

Aside from handing her an expensive BMW, Brown appointed her to two patronage positions in state government that paid handsomely -- more than $400,000 over five years. In 1994, she took a six-month leave of absence from her Alameda County job to join the Unemployment Insurance Appeals Board. Brown then appointed her to the California Medical Assistance Commission, where she served until 1998, attending two meetings a month for a $99,000 annual salary.

"These jobs were created before I was born," Harris says. "Whether you agree or disagree with the system, I did the work. I worked hard to keep St. Luke's Hospital [in the Mission] open. I brought a level of life knowledge and common sense to the jobs. I mean, if you were asked to be on a board that regulated medical care, would you say no?"

In 1998, she left the Alameda County DA's Office to work for Hallinan, managing the San Francisco DA's career-criminal unit and concentrating on Three Strikes cases. She personally tried three cases, including a homicide, negotiated dozens of plea bargains, and supervised five other attorneys.

In 2000, upset by what she says was the politicization of the office, Harris and several colleagues tried to overthrow Darrell Salomon, Hallinan's chief deputy. When the coup failed, Harris abruptly quit and went to work for then­City Attorney Louise Renne, heading up the division of Renne's office that handles child abuse, domestic violence, building code enforcement, and public health matters. (Renne describes Harris as an extremely capable lawyer and a compassionate person. "She will make the best DA this city has seen in years," says Renne.)