From Pop to Politics: How ‘brat’ Became a Meme, a Movement and a Marketing Tool

“kamala IS brat,” tweeted British singer-songwriter Charli XCX in the wake of Kamala Harris’s emergence as the presumptive Democratic nominee in summer 2024. The singer would later clarify that the tweet was “just something positive and lighthearted,” a spontaneous, off-the-cuff post made while lounging by the pool.  

But what followed was anything but casual.  

The tweet rapidly spiraled into a cultural flashpoint, emblematic of the ways in which politics and popular culture are increasingly entangled in the digital age. brat, Charli’s most recent album, became more than a collection of tracks. With its unapologetically hedonistic messaging, it became a symbolic language for certain youth subcultures deeply attuned to online performance, curated chaos, and the recycling of early-2000s “indie sleaze” rebellion. 

And Harris’s campaign was quick to capitalize on this moment. Shortly after Charli’s apparent endorsement, the Harris campaign’s official Twitter account (@kamalahq) updated its banner to the signature brat green, subtly making the party girl aesthetic a part of their political campaign’s visual language. By recontextualizing the brat imagery, the Harris campaign attempted to signal cultural fluency and win the favour of younger demographics. 

Online, youth also began co-opting brat to reframe political discourse in their own terms. From out-of-context press clips being used as reaction videos to fan edits of Harris accompanied by songs off the album, the politician began to amass a following more akin to that of a celebrity than a public servant.  

One might interpret this meme-ification as a coping mechanism, a way to process political frustration through humour and detachment. But when brat’s symbols begin appearing at political protests — its shades of neon green flying next to Palestinian flags — a more complicated picture emerged.  

What begins as a gesture of solidarity can quickly turn into an insensitive act. The act of inserting popular culture into protest may feel empowering or tongue-in-cheek, but it can also undercut the urgency of the causes being fought for. In the face of genocide, settler colonialism and state violence, does employing a meme not risk trivializing the severity of these issues? 

When Harris, a representative of a government actively complicit in many of the systems young people are protesting, co-opts the brat meme for relatability points, it’s not just tone-deaf — it’s strategic. 

Meme politics trades in ambiguity. That’s what makes it fun, fast and viral — but also what makes it dangerous. Its playful, ironic tone allows complex or contentious issues to be distilled into catchy, easily shareable content that resonates across diverse audiences simply because it’s funny. Real political struggles require clarity, accountability and sustained engagement.  

Trends like brat allow politicians to appear connected to youth without committing to any of their demands. It lets protesters slide from outrage into performance, where an image of holding a flag becomes more important than what it actually stands for.