What an impoverished small town tells us about the dangers of not taking class seriously.
I grew up in what could be called the California Appalachians. My town’s population was around a thousand, with a median household income of $37,000.
For me—a former organizer and now labor studies professor—the narrative that Trump was carried to victory last week on the broad shoulders of the white working class has been especially painful. But it is more or less true.
As a woman who worked her whole life proving herself over and over and over in a man’s world. I know how hard it is.
The moment your step out of your truck in front of a bunch of blue collar men in big yellow machines, you have to be twice as right, try to never make a mistake. The men who will have your back are going to be far and few.
Had it not been for the Electoral College, at this moment we would be discussing the plans for the incoming Hillary Clinton administration. That’s right. She actually won the popular vote. Thus, once again, that institution created by the founding slave owners has risen from the grave and prevented our exit from the cemetery.