It’s easy to build documents like these, to highlight the tweaks and ideas that seem so obvious when you step back and look at our system. The harder part is waking people up—not just to the problems, but to the realization that they have a choice. A real choice. Not just the ones handed to them every four years, wrapped in red or blue, but ideas and policies that represent them—their struggles, their dreams, and their day-to-day reality.

Here’s the thing about our system: it’s rigged in a way that numbs us, either through struggle or success. Take me, for instance. After years of scraping by, worrying about what happens if the car breaks down or the water heater gives out, I’m finally in a place of financial stability. It’s not wealth, but it’s enough to take a breath. Enough to know that if something breaks, I can fix it. And you know what? That kind of comfort is dangerous—not because it’s bad to feel secure, but because it has a way of making you forget.

When you’re struggling, you see the cracks in the system everywhere. It’s impossible to ignore them. But once you find your footing, once you’ve clawed your way to a place where you can finally exhale, there’s this quiet temptation to let it all go. It’s not apathy—it’s exhaustion. It’s the same energy that gets people to say, “Not my circus, not my monkeys.” You’ve fought for so long just to survive that when you finally arrive, the last thing you want to do is keep fighting for someone else.

And that’s how the system wins. It desensitizes you. It convinces you that the struggle is the way things are, and once you’re out of it, you should just enjoy your peace. Buy the 20-year-old convertible. Celebrate that you’ve “made it.” But don’t look back at the 30 years you spent just trying to get here. Don’t think about the fact that millions of others are still where you were. And definitely don’t question the system that keeps them there, because that’s just how it is.

But it’s not how it has to be. It shouldn’t take 30 or 40 years for the American dream to be realized. Americans should be living it every day. The dream isn’t meant to be something we reach after decades of climbing—it’s meant to be the foundation we build our lives on. A life where hard work pays off, opportunity is real, and success isn’t a fleeting moment but a constant reality.

We’ve been told that this is the way things are, and we’ve accepted it because challenging it feels impossible. But the truth is, it’s not impossible—it’s just hard. It takes remembering what it felt like to be in the trenches, even when you’ve climbed out of them. It takes holding onto the lessons from the struggle, even when you’ve found stability. And it takes using your voice, your vote, your platform—not just for yourself, but for everyone still trying to climb out.

So, no, I’m not here to tell you that it’s easy or that we’re going to fix everything overnight. But I am here to tell you that it’s worth trying. That we can do better—not just for the people at the top or the ones who’ve found their footing, but for everyone. And that starts with remembering. With looking back and saying, “Hey, this system isn’t working—and we deserve better.”