I’ve wanted to revive the American Averagist for some time, but I’ve kept struggling with where to begin. I’ve heard people question who we are—the friends, family, and neighbors I come from. I’ve read characterizations of Middle America that feel distant and incomplete. I’ve listened to commentators speak with great certainty about communities they’ve never visited and lives they’ve never lived. Most of the time, they miss the mark.
We are Middle Americans, yes—but we are also Averagists. Let me explain what I mean by telling you a bit of my own story.
Compared to the most talked-about demographic groups, I’m unremarkable. I am a fifty-something white man with a wife and family. We live in the suburbs and go to church on Sundays. We are educated and work white-collar jobs, yet over the years we’ve felt the sting of an economy that left many in our community behind while others in Washington, New York, and California prospered. I live in a state where every county voted for Donald Trump in three consecutive elections. Depending on who’s around me, I may speak quietly about this. In truth, I feel quite satisfied that the people I know voted against the establishment.
Despite what’s often said, Middle Americans aren’t difficult to understand. We don’t share the same values as the cultural elites in New York, the financiers on Wall Street, or the political class in Washington. That doesn’t make us backward or disconnected from the world.
Personally, I have traveled to forty-three of the fifty states. I have witnessed poverty in Central America and the aftermath of war in Bosnia. I have dined in fine restaurants and met with business associates in major cities across the country. I have also baled hay, camped in remote wilderness, and mended barbed wire fences. I’m a veteran. I mow my own grass, fix my own cars, and have slept outdoors in every kind of environment—from snowy mountaintops to bug-infested swamps. I’ve spent time with bikers, farmers, construction workers, lawyers, soldiers, entrepreneurs, coal miners, and doctors, and I count many of them as friends. I know how to handle a firearm, and there have been moments in my life when I had to decide what—or who—I was willing to die for.
I’m not alone in this. Millions of Middle Americans have lived on both sides of the divide between rural and urban life. Many of us have seen and experienced more than those who criticize us from a distance often assume—more than they have. What surprises our detractors most is that we reject their definition of a successful life. We see the world differently, and we’ve chosen to live where things feel more grounded, affordable, and human. We are Averagists.
But what does that mean?
I think an Averagist is best understood as a mindset. When I was searching for a term to describe the people I’ve met throughout my life, I wanted to focus on Middle Americans who are deeply invested in their communities—people who are demographically, economically, and culturally rooted in the places they live. Averagists see opportunities where others see obstacles. They’re innovators who rely on common sense and real-world experience to turn disadvantages into advantages. They are exceptional without assuming they’re superior to those around them. They’re the kind of people most of us would be proud to call friends—normal Americans living normal lives in positive ways.
I once believed elections were meant to help heal a divided public. That no longer seems to be the case. The only way to bridge the divide, in my view, is to focus on what makes Americans alike rather than what drives us apart. What I expect to find is that average Americans in the middle of the country are more alike than we’re often led to believe. They are strong people who share many of the same values. And if they don’t, well—that should make for interesting conversations.
This should be a worthwhile journey.
I’ve wanted to revive the American Averagist for some time, but I’ve kept struggling with where to begin. I’ve heard people question who we are—the friends, family, and neighbors I come from. I’ve read characterizations of Middle America that feel distant and incomplete. I’ve listened to commentators speak with great certainty about communities they’ve never visited and lives they’ve never lived. Most of the time, they miss the mark.
We are Middle Americans, yes—but we are also Averagists. Let me explain what I mean by telling you a bit of my own story.
Compared to the most talked-about demographic groups, I’m unremarkable. I am a fifty-something white man with a wife and family. We live in the suburbs and go to church on Sundays. We are educated and work white-collar jobs, yet over the years we’ve felt the sting of an economy that left many in our community behind while others in Washington, New York, and California prospered. I live in a state where every county voted for Donald Trump in three consecutive elections. Depending on who’s around me, I may speak quietly about this. In truth, I feel quite satisfied that the people I know voted against the establishment.
Despite what’s often said, Middle Americans aren’t difficult to understand. We don’t share the same values as the cultural elites in New York, the financiers on Wall Street, or the political class in Washington. That doesn’t make us backward or disconnected from the world.
Personally, I have traveled to forty-three of the fifty states. I have witnessed poverty in Central America and the aftermath of war in Bosnia. I have dined in fine restaurants and met with business associates in major cities across the country. I have also baled hay, camped in remote wilderness, and mended barbed wire fences. I’m a veteran. I mow my own grass, fix my own cars, and have slept outdoors in every kind of environment—from snowy mountaintops to bug-infested swamps. I’ve spent time with bikers, farmers, construction workers, lawyers, soldiers, entrepreneurs, coal miners, and doctors, and I count many of them as friends. I know how to handle a firearm, and there have been moments in my life when I had to decide what—or who—I was willing to die for.
I’m not alone in this. Millions of Middle Americans have lived on both sides of the divide between rural and urban life. Many of us have seen and experienced more than those who criticize us from a distance often assume—more than they have. What surprises our detractors most is that we reject their definition of a successful life. We see the world differently, and we’ve chosen to live where things feel more grounded, affordable, and human. We are Averagists.
But what does that mean?
I think an Averagist is best understood as a mindset. When I was searching for a term to describe the people I’ve met throughout my life, I wanted to focus on Middle Americans who are deeply invested in their communities—people who are demographically, economically, and culturally rooted in the places they live. Averagists see opportunities where others see obstacles. They’re innovators who rely on common sense and real-world experience to turn disadvantages into advantages. They are exceptional without assuming they’re superior to those around them. They’re the kind of people most of us would be proud to call friends—normal Americans living normal lives in positive ways.
I once believed elections were meant to help heal a divided public. That no longer seems to be the case. The only way to bridge the divide, in my view, is to focus on what makes Americans alike rather than what drives us apart. What I expect to find is that average Americans in the middle of the country are more alike than we’re often led to believe. They are strong people who share many of the same values. And if they don’t, well—that should make for interesting conversations.
This should be a worthwhile journey.