The Middle Class Myth

Why the “middle class” is a branding trick and how it keeps us from seeing the real deal

Almost everyone thinks they’re middle class. That’s the strange thing about class in America.

I grew up in Mississippi, surrounded by all kinds of people, some scraping by, some with plenty. I grew up around generational wealth and also people who lived paycheck to paycheck. I knew folks who spent summers in Europe and others who couldn’t take a weekend off. But almost nobody would admit to being “rich.” What they say is: “Well, we’re comfortable.”

We’ve been told there’s this great swath of Americans called the middle class, a safe zone, an aspirational zone. And maybe that was true at one point. But more and more, it feels like that’s just branding. A category that’s been stretched so far it doesn’t mean anything anymore. And with our country’s fixation on the middle class, we’re missing the bigger picture.

Because the truth is, the vast majority of us are living in the same leaky boat. And the people who actually hold power, who actually benefit from the way things are set up, are living in a whole different reality. And I mean a different reality from the folks who admit to feeling “comfortable.” A different reality from the people who summer in Europe or send their kids to liberal arts schools. A different reality from those with some semblance of generational wealth and maybe a modest beach house or boat. The people with all these little luxuries (which sure, are nice to have) whether they want to admit it or not, are closer in proximity to the person making $40K a year than they are to the Elons of the world.

But the punchline is that they pretending they’re not.

A couple months ago, our Ladies League book club read Careless People by Sarah Wynn-Williams, and I’ve thought about it periodically since. The book looks at the unchecked power and delusional detachment of the tech elite, the people at the very top of companies like Meta, Amazon, and OpenAI. The ones whose decisions shape everything from the job market to global politics, but who live in a reality so insulated they truly might as well be on another planet.

It’s not just about money, though the money they have is cartoonishly absurd. It’s about power.

And what really stood out to me wasn’t just how out of touch and absurdly wealthy the top-tier CEOs are. It was the people right underneath them, the executives and senior engineers and lawyers who work grueling hours and pull in huge salaries, but still have to work. They still need stock options to vest. They still feel like they’re one slip away from falling out of favor. Even among the rich, there’s a dividing line between the truly powerful and everyone else. It’s not a pyramid, it’s a cliff.

So this brings me back to the point: even the privileged and pseudo-rich people you and I know, and grew up with, are not the same as these few elites.

That book does a good job of illustrating that even most “rich” people we all know, people with second homes, family money, a very comfortable cushion, aren’t anywhere near the people who run this country. They’re still trying to stay in the good graces of top top elite. Still trying to get in the room. And some of them genuinely believe that if they vote for the right candidate or get the right tax cut, they’ll eventually be one of the chosen few.

But they won’t. Most of us won’t. That door isn’t open. It never was.

One of the most effective tricks of the last 40 years has been convincing people that we’re all on a ladder, just a few rungs below the top. If we just work hard, stay frugal, make the right investments, we’ll get there.

But here’s the truth: if you make $40,000 a year or $300,000 a year, you’re still on the same side of the wall. You are significantly closer to each other than either of you are to the billionaire class. And the longer we cling to this idea of a solid, upwardly mobile “middle class,” the easier it is for the real elite to keep us blaming each other.

Even these people with money. The ones with generational wealth. Big houses, boats, vacation homes, a whole collection of cars. People who’ve never worried about bills or had to compare pharmacy prices. And I’m telling you, even they aren’t the people this political system is built to serve. Not under the current Republican agenda.

The wealthiest person most of us know isn’t in the same tax bracket, doesn’t have the same influence, doesn’t get the same kind of access or protection as the top 0.1%.

And yet, some of those same people, who have real resources and real power on a local level, fall for the scam. And so do people who are economically way, way below those folks. They defend policies that will never benefit them. They vote for candidates who will never prioritize their communities. They’ve bought into the story that they’re “almost there,” and if they just align themselves with the ruling class, they’ll be let in. But they won’t. And their communities are paying the price for their loyalty to a fantasy.

We’ve been sold this idea of the middle class like it’s a stable, safe place. But that version of the middle class isn’t what it used to be. What we’re left with is a wide swath of people with wildly different incomes and wildly similar instabilities, even if they don’t realize it. People who are just one medical crisis, one layoff, one AI disruption away from being in a much worse position.

And if we don’t name the scam, we can’t organize against it.

One of the oldest tricks in the book, and one of the most successful, is getting regular people to see each other as the problem. Make working-class people feel like immigrants are taking something from them. Make the slightly more “comfortable,” wealthier working-class people believe they’re separate, or better off, or more favored than the folks living paycheck to paycheck.

The scam works by making sure we never look up at the people actually hoarding power.

The modern Republican strategy has never really been about improving life for everyday Americans. It’s been about getting people so caught up in defending what little they have, or chasing the dream of more, that they don’t notice how little the ultra-wealthy are giving back. Convince the guy making $75K a year that he has more in common with a billionaire than with his neighbor making $35K. Keep them both distracted, and the power structure stays exactly where it is.

Meanwhile, the people pulling the strings, the ones with real economic and political power, don’t live in your neighborhood. They don’t send their kids to your school. They’re not worried about the grocery bill or the state of public transit. They’re not trying to retire at 67 and hoping their Social Security holds out. They’re playing a completely different game.

The real danger isn’t your neighbor who votes differently from you, it’s the system that has us fighting each other while just a few are feasting.

So what do we do with all this? What do we do with the myth of the middle class?

Well, first of all, we name it. We stop fooling ourselves.

We stop pretending that we’re all going to bootstrap our way into billionaire status. We stop pretending that anyone making $300,000 a year has more in common with a CEO than they do with a teacher or a nurse or someone driving a UPS truck.

We recognize that we actually do want the same things: safe neighborhoods, good schools, healthcare that doesn’t bankrupt our neighbors, and time to enjoy our lives. That’s the overlap. That’s the common ground.

And we wake up and realize how much more power we’d have if we saw each other as teammates.

This doesn’t mean glossing over real political disagreements or pretending everything’s fine. (*Ahem: abortion and LGBTQIA rights. I know it’s not that simple.) But it does mean refusing to let those disagreements keep us from organizing.

Because the truth is: the people at the top are not coming to save us. They don’t need to. Their lives are already insulated. They’ll be fine.

We could be more than fine. But only if we start seeing through the myth. Only if we start choosing each other instead of feeling like we’re better than the folks on the mythical ladder rung below us.