I grew up in eastern Kentucky, in the heart of Appalachia, immersed in all the region has to offer: lush forests filled with oaks and wild orchids; lively streams, full of crayfish and fish. Life abounded and flourished, and although gunshots sometimes ricocheted off the hills I loved to climb and explore, I knew the forest was safe. Copperheads lurked there, of course, but no adults ever followed me into the woods, carrying danger with them. My house held a different story – a story of childhood anguish – that I learned to tell only through written words, knowing that silence was a survival tool.
With the recent nomination of J.D. Vance as Trump’s vice presidential pick, there is renewed interest in our region as his memoir, Hillbilly elegybecame one again Bestseller, much to the collective frustration of our community. Appalachians have spoken out en masse to reclaim our “redneck” identity that Vance co-opted while prescribing bootstrapping as a solution to our problems.
See more information: J.D. Vance’s Appalachian Vision Is Nothing New
But for those of us who grew up mired in poverty, surrounded by addiction, these systemic problems seem to be trapped in quicksand that only wants to drive us further into despair. There are no boots or boots, no solid ground to stand on, when every day is a fight for survival. But neither the outcry of offended Appalachians nor the book’s glaring inconsistencies mattered to readers or voters in the past; it seems unlikely that they will impact Vance’s narrative now.
Your story still matters, however. Mainly because, although his memoir resonated with readers for its quintessentially American narrative of a self-made man, the reality is that he didn’t get here alone. He got here because of policies and programs that support the working class. In fact, it’s one of the few things he and I have in common.
Despite his middle-class upbringing in the Rust Belt, JD Vance and I grew up suffering from the chaos and pain that comes with having an addicted parent, domestic violence, and familial mental illness. Any of these factors will have a negative impact on the child’s well-being and future prospects; Growing up with all three, studies show, leads children to failure.
Vance and I also received a valuable higher education due to the generosity of others who funded our scholarships. I attended Berea College, a tuition-free college here in eastern Kentucky where all students work and which has a stated mission to educate low-income Appalachians, just as it has educated men and women, black and white, since its creation in 1855. Vance attended Yale Law School in one. generous bag, which is a benefit that some of the best schools in our country offer low-income students. But it’s not well known to most Americans who are just trying to survive. We were lucky enough to get to know these schools, let alone get into them.
It wasn’t just higher education that helped Vance and me emerge from the circumstances in which we grew up. Despite its imperfections, our national public school system provided a foundation for attending college and even becoming writers. My parents and later I, as a single mother, benefited from social programs like food stamps and medical cards. Welfare programs often keep children fed and even alive – which means some of us can grow up to be productive adults who not only pay their taxes but also make invaluable contributions to society and society. their families.
Vance helped perpetuate stereotypes about the “lazy poor” in your memoir when he shared his frustration upon discovering, at age 17, that there are adults on welfare who dare to own cell phones and buy things that food stamps don’t cover (i.e. alcohol and cigarettes). However, he is apparently also aware from another point that is critical to this discussion, although not a popular topic in political discourse: our choices are shaped by our culture, and none of the class issues he criticizes can or should be attributed to immorality.
See more information: The Demonization of Rural America
The reality is that these complex problems require careful thought and sometimes complex solutions. Not everyone needs or wants to go to college, and it’s not a guaranteed path to success for those who do. Addiction and mental illness have become dire problems in our country, while resources for treatment have dwindled. American workers struggle to afford groceries and utilities, while much mental health support and medical care is prohibitively expensive.
Some of Vance’s political views are easy to identify, such as his stance on border control and immigrationwhile your thoughts about abortion (and even Trump himself) covered broader ground. And there’s a lot of in-depth coverage of his thoughts on digital currency and other financial topics. But there is much less to be found regarding his positions on ensuring a high-quality public education for all American children or on social welfare programs that support struggling families – which are often in the crosshairs of funding cuts. Republican spending.
This exclusion leads me to ask: has Vance forgotten how he rose to his position? Does he think about the other children in Middletown and Cincinnati who are suffering like he once did, and the parents who raise them, also struggling to cope?
Vance and I are lucky to have come out alive, much less as successful, functioning adults. What we have in common is courage, yes, but no just save ourselves: our educational opportunities and even our employment opportunities offered a way forward. Others who are like us need mental health support, job training, and the benefits of learning self-discipline and structure, like the Marines offered Vance.
The economic and cultural pressures we face have left American families in crisis, and it is children who bear the greatest burden. They also represent our country’s next generation, in whose success we must all invest heavily. The lifelines that paved the way for Vance and me didn’t just serve countless Americans; they are crucial to the greatness of our country.
Over 15 years ago, I taught undergraduate classes as an adjunct English instructor at Eastern Kentucky University for a time after earning my master’s degree there. I had a student in a class who liked to share his political opinions. I listened, but I didn’t offer mine. One day he told me how he thought all social programs should be eliminated.
“What do you think should be done for sick people who cannot afford medical care?” I asked.
And he said to me, “We should let them die.”
He would be 18 or older. I knew there was a chance many of his beliefs would change in the near future. As shocking as it was to hear him say this, I know that it is much easier to see things in black and white when we are younger, still naïve in some ways, before we find ourselves in the middle of complicated situations. I’m sure he couldn’t imagine what really happens when we abandon the most vulnerable among us to die in underfunded hospitals or on the streets themselves. And like so many firmly held political beliefs, it’s easier to condemn people we don’t identify with and think we never will.
If that was 15 years ago, I’m appalled by some of the ways we are demonized now. When I’m inundated with the obituaries of my former classmates in eastern Kentucky, lost to opioids in middle age, or horrified by the growing homelessness and addiction in our cities, I want to know how politicians like Vance will deal with the despair that has permeated our communities – your community. How will the working class of Appalachia and elsewhere – who have always fueled our nation’s success, with our coal, timber and bodies – be fairly rewarded? How do we move beyond impotent talk about wages and inflation to truly ensure that American families don’t get stuck in survival mode?
The well-being of our country includes the well-being of everyone. Your neighbor’s addiction, poverty, or pain only remains isolated for so long. Our leaders – Democrat, Republican or otherwise – need to pay attention to the problems we see around us that are not indicative of individual weakness but rather of our larger cultural struggles.
Our great country faces a number of challenges, but we also have a multitude of tools and solutions to help us create a better path forward. JD Vance has experienced firsthand some of the ways we can do this, and they don’t include the bootstraps he prescribed in his memoir.
Throughout his career, Vance has developed opinions on every controversial issue in our political landscape. He claims to be in favor of the working class. But now it’s time to ask what he really to do for us? After all, we know what the working class did for him.
This story originally appeared on Time.com read the full story
