Exploring the Divides: Empathy for Rural America's Justified Anger

In this article and podcast conversation, we explore the deep divides and shared humanity within rural Appalachia, reflecting on the economic struggles, cultural pride, and systemic neglect that shape the region’s political identity. Drawing from a firsthand encounter with a "Trump Parade," the discussion challenges stereotypes and critiques both the right's exploitative promises and the left's disconnect from rural values. We delve into the paradoxes of faith, politics, and community, calling for empathy and a Christlike approach to seeing God’s image in others. You can read or listen to the full article below and listen to the podcast for an engaging conversation, unpacking these themes further.

Exploring the Divides: Empathy for Rural America's Justified Anger

Written by Matt Fratczak
Edited by Joe Graves

The weekend before the election, I drove through rural Appalachia, from Lewisburg, WV, to Rainelle, a small industrial town. Unknowingly, I found myself in front of a "Trump Train" stretching behind me for miles. Along the route, people with Trump/MAGA merchandise, “F-Biden” flags, beat-up trucks, and four-wheelers lined the road, waving, honking, and greeting each other in solidarity. They were there to show support and to vent their frustrations with the political establishment.

Curious, I pulled over in Rupert, WV and asked an elderly couple what was happening. The woman, petite and over 70 with white permed hair, softly explained that a “Trump Parade” was coming through. She smiled as she proudly stretched out her large MAGA flag across her vehicle. 

When we think of the recent presidential elections, undoubtedly strong emotions quickly come bubbling to the surface.  For some, it evoked pride and hope; for others, it brought despair or disbelief. I’ll be honest and say that I fall into the latter category. As a family medicine physician living in rural Appalachia (people living here pronounce it "Apple-atch-ya" as in I threw an "Apple-atch-ya"), I see this struggle daily. My wife and I, also a physician, are raising our children here in southern West Virginia, a region rich in history and culture but steeped in poverty.

This area is rural and economically strained, with poverty rates over 20%. In Rupert, WV, where I stopped along the parade route, the poverty rate is an astonishing 43.5%. Coal, the backbone of many families’ livelihoods, is part of the cultural fabric here. This plays a part in West Virginia being among the most dangerous states to work in, with alarming fatality rates. Investment in public services is shockingly low. Schools struggle, healthcare access is limited, and nearly every family has been touched by the drug epidemic and overdoses. 

Water quality is another critical issue—many counties have health-based violations under the Safe Drinking Water Act. Hauling water in the back of pick up trucks is not uncommon practice here, as well-water is unreliable and can be unsafe. Two of my 3 neighbors haul water for domestic use, making trips every few days. I think it is fair to say inequity here is equitable. Everyone feels the disadvantage on some level, although some much more severely than others. I have not even touched on the problems of unemployment and a myriad of other issues.

These challenges can feel overwhelming.

Driving away from the Trump supporters, I felt disheartened that this is where people have placed their hope and anger. I felt sad that the perceived political savior of their circumstances is a (failed) New York City businessman, real estate mogul, and overall narcissistic, billionaire Capito-Fascist. I have little doubt this man has zero concern for exploited Appalachians. How can the rural people I interact with on a daily basis—who I would describe as kind, charitable, humble, and caring for their immediate neighbor—support Donald Trump? And yet here we are, lined out on the streets to demonstrate support and express collective anger. 

Recently, I read a Facebook post that mentioned the “uneducated rural working class”, faulting them for Trump’s reelection. I’ve seen many others reflect similar sentiments.  I  have to wonder if these posts often imply the inferiority of “simple” and “ignorant country folk". A prejudice I wholeheartedly stand against. 

Maybe the answer goes back to the fact that "uneducated" rural voters have a good reason to be angry? Economic and social neglect has left these communities feeling abandoned. Coal remains a proud legacy here; during WWII, it was essential to America’s efforts, and the national reliance on coal is not forgotten. It can not be overstated how much pride there is in coal and those who mine it. If you’re unfamiliar with this, check out the PBS documentary “King Coal.” Coal in some communities has the same level of loyalty as college football teams have in major cities. So when clean energy is promoted without clear alternatives for these communities, it’s unsurprising that residents are resistant. Imagine a political party that built its platform on removing the local college football team? Would there be any protest?

 I don’t believe Trump’s support of coal is altruistic, but I also wonder if progressives have not only failed to provide viable paths forward, but have also misunderstood the values and legacy of the voters they hope to reach.

As much as Trump has won their favor, I fear that progressives have pushed them away. 

A 2021 research paper concluded, "that political conservatives are significantly more charitable than liberals at an overall level.” Other studies have determined that both liberal and conservative urban and suburban areas are nearly equivalent in their opposition to low-income housing developments in their immediate area. Yet, it is rural (and thus typically conservative) areas that tend to have the most diverse socioeconomic interactions, while big cities (and thus typically liberal) tend to be the most socioeconomically segregated communities. Both sides have their hypocrisy.

Please do not misunderstand, I have met both urban and rural individuals who seem to reflect God’s heart in how they live, along with urban and rural people who spew hate. It’s complicated and we can’t generalize. My goal here isn’t to contribute to the generalizations, but to challenge the assumptions we make about people, on both sides of the aisle. 

Are there underlying socio-economic issues in rural communities and willful, systemic neglect from our current political structure that have marginalized these voters? Yes.

Have the seemingly arrogant and uncaring attitudes prevalent in progressive circles toward rural Americans made them unsupportable by those who would most benefit from their policies? Also, yes. 

But did Jesus take the greatest issue with followers of the Pharisees or the Pharisees themselves? The answer is obvious. .

I wish to be clear that my opposition is against misguided beliefs and hateful notions, not the ordinary people who hold them. I find the so-called "Christian" support and worship of Donald Trump deeply troubling. At times I would go as far as to say it’s idolatry, and find Trump’s rhetoric a desecration of God's love and God’s justice. I hope to see a rapid end to the decidedly anti-Christian “Christio-Nationalism” that is part of the far-right ideology. As Jesus himself said, “Worship the Lord your God and serve him only” (Luke 4:8).

But I also want to invite us to see God’s image in the people we talk about. 

I have recently been focused on the scriptural contradictions (at first glance) in the teachings of Jesus, both compared against Paul, the Old Testament, and at times seemingly Jesus himself. I’m wondering if these contradictions are where we find God and truth. We find something that is known and unknown, overtly simple and yet unfathomably nuanced. 

We thirst for righteousness yet are called to be meek. 

We follow Jesus who was fully human yet fully divine. 

Perhaps, thinking about our relationship with our neighbors should be no different, embracing the paradox of human experience. I wonder if it’s only in that tension—and even paradox—that we are most likely to find a way forward.