My family floated between working poor and middle class. My parents were divorced, and neither has a college degree. As is the case with many American families far from the Acela corridor, my mom’s yearly income determined if I would live in a house, apartment, or mobile home, if I would attend decent schools or the worst in town.
My family background is messy. But there was one constant: Many of my family members are proud construction workers and lifelong union members.
This woman’s story is a lot like my own. My dad was a construction worker and a proud union member. Neither of my parents went to college. (My dad didn’t even finish high school.) Work came and went, and there were times we lived in a house, times we lived in an apartment, and times we lived in a trailer. I changed school eight times.
And I’ve seen the way the Democrats lost people like my father (who became a Fox News-watching Trump fan).
A lot of it isn’t even about any specific policy. It’s a persistent feeling that the Democrats aren’t speaking to us. That they don’t care about us. That they look down on us. We don’t factor into their messaging anymore, and on a personal level, they think we’re dumb hicks.
But it’s not a new thing. I’m 20 years older than her, and I went through the same disillusionment she did.
I hope she joined her local Communist party.
“Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to go call for a ceasefire in the Middle East while we continue to supply Israel with weapons.”