Imagine being told from a young age that your life is already written: the jobs you’ll hold, the obstacles you’ll face, the limits you’ll never cross. What you’re born into is what your life will be. For millions of Americans making a low wage, that’s the reality. Democracy, in theory, is supposed to offer a way out — a chance to shape your own future. That’s the “American dream.” But for too many, it remains just a promise, out of reach. When children grow up believing their circumstances are permanent, they inherit a cycle instead of a chance.
I know this tension firsthand. On paper, I might look like I fit the mold of opportunity: white-passing, educated, and building a career. But beneath the surface, my story goes beyond that. I grew up in a low-income, mixed-race household with a Hispanic father and a white American mother. In my family, the paths laid out were often blue-collar jobs, teen pregnancy, addiction, incarceration, or worse. None of my three sisters graduated from high school, and no one in my immediate family attended college. I became the exception — not because the system was designed for me but because I found a way through it.
I easily could have accepted my situation, which involved living paycheck to paycheck and witnessing close family members enter the criminal justice system. Based on the saying “History repeats itself,” I should have done just that. But education was the key for me. I relied on school to distract from a tough home life. I’m not sure what drove me to invest so much time into studying, but I was determined to finish high school and attend college. Now, I hold two bachelor’s degrees and a master’s degree, with plans to obtain a law degree. I overcame my circumstances; I didn’t become them.
But hard work and determination can only get a person so far. My path wasn’t easy, and neither is the path for the 36.8 million Americans living in poverty. We need an institutional framework in place to prevent a socioeconomic hierarchy that would relegate an entire “class” of people to the bottom. True democracy should not just leave room for outliers; it should make success attainable for anyone. It should uplift those who start with the least, turning what is often called the “American dream” into an American reality.
The problem is that our government too often fails to reflect the communities it serves. When elected officials don’t share the lived experiences of everyday people, they miss what matters most.
Congress is overwhelmingly composed of representatives and senators from upper-class or highly educated backgrounds. In 2023, fewer than 2% of federal legislators came from working-class backgrounds, despite the fact that 27% of the U.S. workforce holds blue-collar jobs.
Wealth disparities are stark. The median U.S. household net worth is $192,700, while Congressmembers’ median net worth in 2020 was over $1 million. The net worth of the wealthiest lawmakers, like former House Speaker Nancy Pelosi, is in the hundreds of millions.
Ninety-six percent of the 118th Congress have college degrees, with the majority coming from white-collar professions, though a few have backgrounds as ride-share drivers, electricians, and carpenters. In 10 states, no lawmaker works or has worked in a working-class job, according to researchers at Duke University and Loyola University Chicago.
“These estimates illustrate the striking disparity between Americans and the people who represent them in elected office,” said Nicholas Carnes, a political scientist at Duke University. “In principle, anyone can run for office, but in practice, the people who are running and serving are overwhelmingly drawn from America’s professional classes.”
Some, however, come from humble beginnings. Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, D-N.Y., for example, “pulled extra shifts as a waitress and bartender to support her family,” her House biography says. I, too, have worked in restaurants to support myself and my family. My first job was at the age of 16 as a hostess at a Mexican restaurant called Sticky Cactus in McDonough, Georgia, and later I became a waitress there. I remember smiling with pride after receiving a $50 tip, which would go toward my University of Georgia admission fee. My parents couldn’t afford the $500 to secure my spot for freshman year.
An elected official’s economic background shapes their policymaking. Officials from affluent backgrounds may prioritize lowering taxes for high earners or enhancing business incentives. In contrast, officials from working-class backgrounds may focus on raising the minimum wage or expanding affordable healthcare. The former is not inherently wrong; Congress needs members of all socioeconomic backgrounds, and that’s the point. Greater economic diversity is needed.
Representation isn’t about identity politics. It’s about ensuring that policy is shaped by people who understand, from their lived reality, what it means to break a cycle — what it means to overcome your situation, rather than become it. Poor people, to put it bluntly, deserve a seat at the congressional table to bring firsthand understanding of financial insecurity and systemic barriers so many face.
We should elect leaders who reflect the diversity of our communities, not just in terms of race and gender, but also in background, socioeconomic class, and life experiences. For me, democracy means having the chance to turn rejection into redirection and to overcome a situation rather than become it. It means transforming lemons into limonada. And it means ensuring the promise of an “American dream” isn’t reserved for the lucky few but built into the American structure.
Ashley N. Soriano is a graduate student at Northwestern University Medill School of Journalism in the Politics, Policy and Foreign Affairs specialization.
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A golden tray sits on the Resolute Desk as President Donald Trump speaks during an announcement on American nuclear innovation in the Oval Office at the White House on July 24, 2026, in Washington, D.C. Trump is signing multiple executive orders targeting the nuclear energy sector and easing rules for new reactors and nuclear fuel supply chains.
Trump’s hubris rivals the fallen heroes of ancient Greek mythology
In January, the New York Times asked President Donald Trump if there were any limits on his global powers.
“Yeah,” the president responded, “there is one thing. My own morality. My own mind. It’s the only thing that can stop me.”
That was eight months ago, but fortunately Christopher Nolan’s blockbuster adaptation of “The Odyssey” has made ancient Greek literature newly relevant. Before that window closes, I’d like to talk about hubris.
Today, the term mostly means excessive pride or arrogance. That’s part of what the Greeks meant by it too, but the meaning was a bit richer and more specific. Hubris was an insolent or outrageous act that offended the gods, often because the transgressor was claiming abilities or authorities that solely belonged to supreme beings.
Nolan renamed and slightly modified the concept of xenia for the film, calling it “Zeus’ law.” In the director’s telling, mortals should follow the rules laid out by the gods, specifically the requirement to treat strangers with respect lest they be gods in disguise.
In a sense, hubris is the opposite, or at least the rejection, of xenia. The hubris of the suitors, and at times Odysseus himself, invites punishment by the gods and their mortal instruments.
Which brings me back to Donald Trump. His claim that there are no constraints on his personal power to dictate events on the global stage was one of the greatest expressions of hubris ever uttered by a political leader.
Trump’s claim was obviously false when he made it.
He vowed that he could end the Russia-Ukraine war in 24 hours. He’s proved powerless to make that happen. If he had divine powers to work his will, why would he have balked at implementing his tariffs so often that Wall Street adopted the “TACO trade” term for his deals? “TACO” stands for “Trump always chickens out.”
And why would Trump have made so many embarrassing concessions to China — from rescinding tariffs on Chinese goods to allowing them to buy crucial and incredibly valuable computer chips?
But Trump saw his success at capturing Venezuelan strongman Nicolas Maduro as proof of his ability to launch missiles to the same effect as Zeus’ lightning bolts. Trump believed he was the most powerful man who ever lived.
This is no exaggeration. In March, when the Iran invasion seemed successful, Trump gave a document penned by“Presidential Historian David King” to New York Times reporters Maggie Haberman and Jonathan Swan purporting to prove that Trump was “the most powerful person to have EVER walked this planet.” King was, in fact, a businessman and occasional caddy for legendary golfer Gary Player.
King compared Trump favorably to many of history’s most powerful, and often heinous, figures: Alexander the Great, Attila the Hun, William the Conqueror, Napoleon Bonaparte, Joseph Stalin, Genghis Khan, Mao Tse Tung, Adolf Hitler and Vladimir Lenin. Many of these men thought they were the most powerful person in the world, too. And many were defeated precisely because they believed it.
At least Napoleon and Hitler had a string of truly impressive victories before they learned the folly of hubris. The limits on Trump’s power have been exposed by far less august forces than the combined might of the allies in World War II or the fearsome Russian winter.
Iran is a comparatively middling power. But the regime’s ability to absorb punishment while imposing its will on the Strait of Hormuz has proved to be a greater constraint on Trump’s power than his morality or mind. We should note that, at least rhetorically, his morality has not proved much of a constraint. He has repeatedly promised to destroy Iranian “civilization” if the regime refuses to capitulate.
But they haven’t — and won’t anytime soon — because the regime’s tolerance for pain far outstrips Trump’s. The combined fear of skyrocketing oil prices, outrage of Gulf state potentates, diminishing weapon supplies and domestic unpopularity is doing the work that international law, congressional oversight and the collective opinion of foreign policy experts can’t or won’t do.
If I considered Trump more heroic than reason and facts could allow, I would say his Sisyphean predicament has the whiff of Greek tragedy to it. Trump is vexed by the fact that the Iranians won’t honor deals or ratify his countless premature claims of victory — giving new meaning to his vow that his presidency would make people tired of winning. It’s almost like they’re out-Trumping Trump.
Things might have gone better if he’d heeded that great Greek tragedian Sophocles: “For Zeus utterly abhors the boasts of a proud tongue.”
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Jonah Goldberg is editor-in-chief of The Dispatch and the host of The Remnant podcast. His Twitter handle is @JonahDispatch.