Bootstraps for You. Bailouts for Them.

While they light fireworks, the rest of us are told to tighten our belts and be “resilient.”

You ever try pulling yourself up by your bootstraps? No, seriously. Grab your shoes. Yank upward. Now tell me: did you fly?

Of course not. The phrase was never meant to be literal. It started as a joke—a 19th-century jab at doing something physically impossible. Like trying to lift a chair while sitting in it. It was satire. Absurd. Yet, somewhere along the line, America looked at that impossibility and said, “Yes. That.”

Today, pull yourself up by your bootstraps is scripture. A mantra wrapped in red, white, and blue. It’s everywhere—from school funding to health policy. It’s the heartbeat of the “self-made” myth.

Most of us weren’t handed these metaphorical bootstraps. If we were, they came knotted or nailed to the floor.

We say this is the greatest country in the world. But if we’re brave enough to believe that, we should be brave enough to ask: who is it great for?

The bootstraps narrative was never just a metaphor. It’s become a weapon. Used to shame those who struggle. Used to justify disinvestment. Used to silence calls for care. And overcoming that myth isn’t just about policy—it’s about courage. Letting go of comforting lies takes bravery. Demanding something better takes even more.

This isn’t about shaming a country. It’s about examining a belief system. If we want to live up to the stories we tell, we have to look at what’s underneath them.

You Can’t Call It Freedom If You’re Just Surviving

We love to say we’re the freest nation in the world. But what does freedom mean if you can’t afford to see a doctor? If your job doesn’t cover your rent? If your kid’s future is determined by their ZIP code, not their potential?

I’ve stood in classrooms where kids are too hungry to focus. Too anxious to learn. Too tired to dream. That’s not freedom. That’s not greatness. That’s survival.

In the 2024 World Happiness Report, the U.S. ranked 23rd—trailing countries like Finland, Denmark, and Iceland. What do they have that we don’t? Safety nets. Trust in government. Universal healthcare. Time to rest.

Only 73% of Americans say they’re doing “okay” or better. Just 72% say they’re satisfied with their freedom—compared to 86% across other wealthy nations.

You’re not free if one accident can bankrupt you. You’re not free if every “choice” comes with a penalty. You’re not free when “opportunity” is a lottery ticket and not a guarantee.

Freedom isn’t about effort. It’s about infrastructure. And in America, access has a price tag.

We’re told to be grateful. Do more with less. Meanwhile, the wealthiest carve out bigger pieces and tell the rest of us to bootstrap harder.

If we’re going to chant “land of the free,” we better be brave enough to ask: Free for whom—and at what cost?

We’re Not Out of Resources. We’re Out of Excuses.

I believed the myth growing up: work hard, keep your head down, stay grateful. Hard work isn’t the issue. The ladder is. Somehow, we’ve come to accept that broken is just how it works.

Now Congress has passed the “One Big Beautiful Bill,” locking in tax giveaways for the wealthy and sweeping cuts to essential services. The result?

• Nearly $1 trillion in Medicaid cuts through work mandates and tighter eligibility—putting health coverage at risk for millions. 

• $295 billion trimmed from SNAP benefits—stripping vital food support from families and seniors.

•  Projections show up to 12–14 million people losing Medicaid by 2034. And 1.2 million jobs could be lost nationwide from reduced spending on health and food assistance.

Meanwhile, the wealthiest households see trillions in tax cuts—a transfer deliberately engineered to scale upward.

They sold us austerity as responsibility. But it’s a choice: sacrifice for most, surplus for a few.

We’re told to “be gritty.” Reality check: grit doesn’t fix broken systems. It just hides the cracks and buries the truth that these systems were built to exclude. (Here are my thoughts on “grit”)

Other countries prove what’s possible. We just keep asking individuals to hustle harder while the system stays the same.

When someone does “make it,” we celebrate the grind—not the gap they escaped from. We’ve been conditioned to believe success only counts if it’s done alone. So when people get more, they’re taught to turn away. To protect it. To believe they earned every inch, while others just didn’t want it bad enough.

We model how to get yours. We rarely model how to get free: together.

But collective care isn't a weakness. It’s wisdom. It’s how you build a society where fewer people fall through the cracks in the first place.

Being serious about freedom means being serious about infrastructure. Being serious about bravery means building what we haven’t yet seen.

We’re not out of resources. We’re just too afraid or too unwilling to use them for everyone.

But sure, let’s blame the librarian and the bus driver for the national deficit.

If Greatness Is Just a Memory, It’s Not Greatness: It’s Nostalgia

If America ever was great, it was only for some. If it’s going to be great now, it has to be for all.

Bravery is asking better questions. It’s showing up for people you don’t know. It’s letting go of myths that keep us small. It’s brave to believe the future should feel different. It’s brave to name what’s broken. It’s brave to build systems that care.

What’s more American than questioning power?

We don’t rise alone. And no one climbs a ladder built from someone else’s silence.

If You Feel This: Act On It

You can’t pull yourself up by your bootstraps. But you can call out hypocrisy and cruelty. You can name what’s broken. You can help build something better.

Start here:

• Run for Something – Helps young, diverse progressives run for local office.

• National Priorities Project – Learn how tax dollars are spent and advocate for budgets that reflect community care.

• Mutual Aid Hub – Find or support local grassroots networks.

• 5 Calls – Contact your representatives about real people-first policy priorities.

Thanks for being the kind of reader who isn’t afraid of hard truths and who believes, like I do, that care, clarity, and community are where the real power lives.

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