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 view of the U.S. Capitol in Washington, D.C., on June 25, 2026. President Donald Trump jolted Republicans during a fiery appearance at the U.S. Capitol on Wednesday, scrapping a housing bill signing ceremony and clashing behind closed doors with a party rebel who challenged him over the Iran war. Trump had been expected to sign the bipartisan housing.
Only Trump doesn’t care about housing
It was August 15, 2024. Then candidate Donald Trump stepped out of his Bedminster, New Jersey, golf club’s columned clubhouse to a gaggle of reporters. He was flanked by tables of groceries and signs showing the rising cost of food. Also on one of the tables was a dollhouse, meant to represent the equally alarming rise in housing prices.
It was a speech about the economy, the single most important issue of the 2024 election cycle, full of promises that went right to the heart of Americans’ anxieties. While former President Joe Biden and then Vice President Kamala Harris were contorting themselves to posture a good economy that just needed more time to recover from the pandemic, Trump was preying on voters’ very real fears of unaffordable gas, groceries, and homes. It was obviously a winning message.
In that speech, Trump promised, “We’re going to open up tracts of federal land for housing construction. We desperately need housing for people who can’t afford what’s going on now.”
As of mid-2023, there had been a housing shortage of nearly four million homes, according to the National Association of Realtors. Americans all over the country were either priced out of buying new homes due to low inventory, trapped in their existing homes by sky-high mortgage rates, or facing exorbitant rent hikes thanks to corporate investors buying up rental properties. Americans needed help, and Trump promised it.
Cut to March of 2026, when Trump reportedly told House Speaker Mike Johnson, “No one gives a sh*t about housing.”
That kind of thinking may explain why Trump this week suddenly announced he was canceling a signing ceremony for the bipartisan “21st Century ROAD to Housing Act,” a housing bill co-sponsored by Sens. Elizabeth Warren and Tim Scott that passed the House 358-32 and was approved in the Senate on Monday.
Trump instead demanded Congress pass the SAVE America Act, his controversial election grievance bill that doesn’t have enough Republican support to get passed in the Senate.
It’s just the latest in a line of policy self-owns where Trump has seemingly intentionally made life more difficult for Republicans hoping to keep their majority. Despite midterm elections occurring in the midst of a blistering economy and an unpopular war, they were surely hoping the housing bill would give them something — anything — to brag about when they returned home to their districts.
And very much to the contrary, Americans do give a sh*t about housing. According to a recent survey by the Bipartisan Policy Center, a whopping 79% say the cost of housing is extremely or very important to them. Eighty-three percent say Congress should take action on the issue — like it just did. Eighty-nine percent say the House and Senate need to work together to pass affordable housing legislation — like they just did. And 63% say they would be more likely to vote for a lawmaker if they helped pass legislation to build more affordable homes and lower housing costs — like they just did.
There aren’t many issues that unite Americans like housing does, and very few bipartisan policy wins Congress can point to, and yet, Trump is holding that bill hostage in order to get his pet project — which doesn’t even have the support of his own party — pushed through.
If you’re trying to make sense of something so nonsensical, as I’m sure many Republican lawmakers are, it’s certainly sad but not actually all that complicated. Trump said what he needed to get reelected and then promptly abandoned his promises in order to pursue his own self-interests, even if those interests are bad for Republicans and bad for voters.
That’s just the kind of guy he is.
S.E. Cupp is the host of "S.E. Cupp Unfiltered" on CNN.