There is a simple story in American political debate that we’ve been hearing a lot lately: If you are struggling, you must have done something wrong. That idea didn’t come out of nowhere. It used to be true. There was a time when the system provided stability. It wasn’t perfect, but we moved through life knowing that if we fell, someone was there to catch us. On this week’s episode of At Our Table, Senator Elizabeth Warren talks about when her father lost his job, and her mother—who had never worked outside the home—took a minimum wage position answering phones at Sears. That single income covered the mortgage, put food on the table, and kept the family in their home until her father got back on his feet. It wasn’t easy, and it wasn’t secure in any modern sense. But it worked.
That matters because it established a baseline expectation that if you did what was asked of you, the system would at least allow you to stay afloat. Many people have their own version of that story. My mother had me as a teenager, and we lived with my grandparents. My mom called both our senators and asked for help finding a job to support us. They found her something at a local factory. Fast forward a couple decades, and I was able to buy a house for my grandparents. That’s the system we had come to expect as Americans—one that produces stories of resilience and generational mobility. Effort is supposed to lead to stability, and the system around you will keep pushing you and your family forward. That’s no longer the case. The Story Didn’t ChangeOver the past several decades, the country changed. Wages for most workers stopped growing. Housing costs rose faster than income. Childcare became a major expense rather than a manageable one. Health care shifted more financial risk onto individuals. Higher education became both more necessary and more expensive. What did not change at the same pace was the story people use to interpret those conditions. The same logic still applies: if you are working hard, you should be able to make it. If you are not making it, something about your choices must be off. This creates a mismatch between lived experience and explanation. A person can be working full time, managing expenses carefully, making what would have been considered responsible decisions a generation ago—and still be unable to achieve basic financial stability. Meanwhile, it feels like everyone else is living the dream. If it’s not someone we have direct contact with, it’s someone on our newsfeed or in the White House. They’ve unlocked the key to wealth and success while we’re barely keeping our heads above water. And when there’s no obvious reason for the disparity, the explanation defaults inward. “It must be me.” When Struggle Becomes Self-BlameThat shift—from external conditions to internal blame—has political consequences. When people interpret their own struggles as personal failures, they are less likely to connect those struggles to broader patterns. They are less likely to see themselves as part of a group experiencing the same pressures. And they are less likely to demand structural changes because the problem does not appear to be structural. This is one reason why people have so much trouble connecting political posturing with economic reality. The experience is widespread, but the interpretation is individualized. It also allows policymakers and political leaders to avoid accountability. If outcomes are understood as the result of personal decisions, then policy becomes secondary. The question shifts from whether the system can produce stability for you to whether you can take advantage of the system. That systemic breakdown is driving politics today. The Politics of “Be Patient”Recent elections have hinged on the straightforward concern that the cost of living is too high. That concern cut across geography and party affiliation. In 2024, Donald Trump promised immediate relief during his campaign. No one should be surprised that the action hasn’t matched the words when Trump is concerned. Prices in key areas have remained elevated or increased, and nearly every global or domestic decision coming out of the White House has made things worse. And what do we hear from the people in power? They tell us to be patient. They make excuses and justifications. They tell us this is all temporary, and your sacrifice is for the good of the country. It immediately makes me think about President Jimmy Carter, whose talk about sacrifice and patience led to the Reagan Revolution of 1980. Voters decided the system was not delivering, and they voted to change it. So let me ask you this America: Are you better off than you were four years ago? And let me follow with a more relevant question: When did a failure to lead become the American people’s fault? What’s Actually Driving the BreakdownAt some point, you can’t ignore the mismatch between political messaging and lived reality. Personal responsibility still matters, but it operates within conditions that shape what’s possible. Housing affordability is influenced by supply, zoning, and investment patterns. Wage growth is shaped by labor markets, policy, and bargaining power. Healthcare costs reflect regulatory and market structures. And those conditions have been shaped to benefit some people far more than others. When housing becomes an investment class, the people who already own assets win. When wages flatten but productivity rises, the gains move upward. When health care and education become more expensive, the burden concentrates on people trying to climb. The system is still working for people with capital and corporations that can pass costs along. It works for investors who profit from scarcity and institutions that benefit when access gets tighter and competition gets steeper. Because if the system were simply broken, everyone would feel it the same way. But it’s not broken. It’s working for a select few, who then turn around and tell the rest of us it’s our fault. You can’t pull the rug out from under someone and then tell them they fell because they were standing badly. Breaking the LieAt some point, we have to stop willingly participating in this. Because that’s what it is. Participation. Every time we let them explain away someone else’s struggle as bad choices. Every time we hear someone in power say people need to “sacrifice” and let it slide. Every time we look at our own situation and think, “I must have done something wrong.” We’re repeating the lie. If millions of people are working, making responsible decisions, and still falling behind, that’s not a personal failure. That’s a system producing exactly the outcomes it was built to produce. That lie is doing real work to keep people quiet and isolated. It keeps pressure on the people with the least power to change it. So here’s the shift: Stop carrying that message for them—and start finding each other. Talk about this out loud. Not just online. Not just in passing. With your coworkers. Your neighbors. The other parents at school. The people you know who are doing everything right and still coming up short. You will find out very quickly that you are not alone, and once you see that, don’t let the conversation end there. Stay connected. Compare notes. Pay attention to who is telling the truth about what’s happening—and who keeps asking you to be patient while things get worse. Support the people who are willing to say this plainly. Organize around it. Show up. Vote like your day-to-day life actually depends on it—because it does. Because the lie only works as long as people feel isolated. And the moment enough people start saying that out loud—and start acting on it together—that’s when the pressure shifts. That’s when the excuses stop working. And that’s when something actually starts to change. You’re currently a free subscriber to Jaime’s Table. For the full experience, upgrade your subscription.
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