I’m A Single Mom. Here’s Why I Am Not Surviving Under The Biden-Harris Economy.

I am one of countless women who are fighting a battle that was never meant to be ours alone. My journey began at the tender age of 17 when I brought my first child into this world without the safety net of family support. Today, I am the mother of three beautiful children, who are ...

Sep 17, 2024 - 11:28
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I’m A Single Mom. Here’s Why I Am Not Surviving Under The Biden-Harris Economy.

I am one of countless women who are fighting a battle that was never meant to be ours alone. My journey began at the tender age of 17 when I brought my first child into this world without the safety net of family support. Today, I am the mother of three beautiful children, who are my heart and soul. I worked tirelessly in my twenties, juggling three jobs while attending night school to earn a bachelor’s degree. This pursuit for a better life left me with $60,000 in student debt — a shadow that looms large over my future.

Today, I gross $6,000 a month, working 15-20 hours of overtime each week. It’s an income I once idolized and aspired to during my studies, believing it was the key to making a name for myself. Yet, the harsh reality is that after taxes, $2,400 in rent, $800 in health insurance, $700 in childcare for my toddler, $400 in utilities, $250 in car insurance, and another $400 in legal fees each month — stemming from a bitter custody battle with my ex-husband — I find myself $1,900 in the red every month. I receive $400 in child support, but it barely scratches the surface of what’s needed.

I share these detailed financial numbers to underscore the stark reality that we are all confronting in this country. This isn’t just my struggle — it’s the shared plight of countless Americans burdened by an unforgiving economic system.

My car payment is an additional burden, an expensive necessity because financing a vehicle was cheaper than paying any amount in full for something I would own. I am using old food stamp money I had saved up for food when I lost my job last year, but that is dwindling and will run out in a month or so. Soon, I will have no money for food.

In the midst of these struggles, I watch in despair as politicians spend more time in political arenas fighting amongst themselves, rather than putting the needs of Americans like me at the forefront. I feel forgotten, as if my reality is not important to those who profit from the political use of the hurt that people like me endure.

I find myself ensnared in a relentless cycle, each day feeling like I am shackled in a form of modern-day slavery — laboring endlessly, knowing deep down that no matter how fiercely I fight, breaking free seems impossible. It’s as if my very essence is owned, my labor dictated, my freedom stolen by an unyielding system. This economy, this broken system, holds me captive, squeezing every ounce of strength from my soul as I desperately struggle to break free from the chains of my invisible master.

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I write this not only as a call for change, but out of personal desperation. I hope that by voicing my struggles, I can somehow make sense of the daily battles I face, and in doing so, find a way to make them more bearable. Each word is a plea, a testament to the resilience I must muster every day, yearning for a glimmer of hope amidst the overwhelming darkness.

I am exhausted — mentally, physically, and emotionally. It feels as though all my energy is spent on mere survival and my relationship with my children suffers because of it. My health is deteriorating, and I can’t afford the copay to seek help. I make too much to qualify for state assistance, but not enough to survive.

In desperation, I’ve resorted to taking out small credit cards with excruciating interest rates, just to afford basic necessities. Yet, even these lifelines slip from my grasp as I let payments lapse, unable to keep up with the relentless financial demands. Each month, I sink deeper into a quicksand of debt, watching helplessly as it pulls me further under.

Every day, I send out numerous job applications, hoping to break through the algorithmic barriers that online hiring processes have erected. In a desperate bid to gain an edge, I pay for subscriptions to job board websites, yet the opportunities seem scarce in a sea where everyone is striving for the same lifeline. It’s a bitter pill to swallow knowing my teenage son has more in his savings than I do, and I wrestle with the urge to borrow from him just to afford basic necessities like laundry detergent.

I see women my age turning to platforms like OnlyFans, tempted by the possibility of financial relief. I hold onto my faith, my dignity, and my love for my children as a shield against that reality. Yet, the temptation lurks as bills pile up and my credit score plummets. Emails from creditors with “Payment Declined” messages haunt my inbox. My bank account teeters at $3, and payday is a mere cycle of temporary relief before the next wave of bills crashes in.

Each month, I face the agonizing decision of which bills to pay and which to defer, forced to prioritize their importance to my family’s immediate well-being. This constant juggling act leaves me perpetually behind, always scrambling to catch up, yet never quite able to break free. It’s a relentless cycle that chips away at my resolve, leaving me feeling defeated and powerless.

I ask you: How can it be that earning $60,000 to $70,000 a year leaves me scrapping for survival? Why are hardworking people like me stuck in a system that seems to reward the few at the expense of the many?

Each day, the dream of owning my own home slips further away. With every missed payment, my credit score plummets, and any chance of building savings evaporates. The soaring prices of homes stretch far beyond my reach, transforming the American Dream into a distant mirage that taunts me from the horizon.

My heart aches as I watch illegal immigrants walk into this country and receive more support than I do. I cry in solitude, locked in my bathroom, journaling and praying for change. This is not just my story, but the story of many women in America who are slowly being crushed under the weight of an unyielding system.

I am choosing to vote for Donald Trump because I yearn for a life where my hard work truly counts, where I can live on my own terms without depending on government handouts just to survive in a system that those in power have broken. I implore those who share my struggles to make the same choice, recognizing that more government band-aids will only lead to restricted freedoms and make it increasingly difficult to get ahead. We need to reclaim our autonomy and ensure our labor reaps the rewards it deserves.

I’m not seeking handouts or “free government money” — I’m demanding real, substantial change. I vote conservative because I believe in a future where dedication and determination pave the way to personal success and dignity. We need policies that uplift working mothers, honor our contributions, and empower us to provide for our children without sacrificing our health and well-being.

This is a plea for action, for reform, and for a future where we are not punished for striving for better. America, the land of opportunity, must become a reality, not just a dream. Change is not a luxury; it is a necessity for mothers, for families, and for Americans like me.

* * *

Kirsten White is a hardworking mother of three who lives in Idaho.

The views expressed in this piece are those of the author and do not necessarily represent those of The Daily Wire.

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Fibis I am just an average American. My teen years were in the late 70s and I participated in all that that decade offered. Started working young, too young. Then I joined the Army before I graduated High School. I spent 25 years in, mostly in Infantry units. Since then I've worked in information technology positions all at small family owned companies. At this rate I'll never be a tech millionaire. When I was young I rode horses as much as I could. I do believe I should have been a cowboy. I'm getting in the saddle again by taking riding lessons and see where it goes.