I could see exactly what they’re talking about in my own life. I grew up right on the edge of New York City’s sphere of influence, in Sussex County, New Jersey, just about where the suburbs end and the farms of greater Pennsylvania begin. I was raised in an Evangelical church where Republicanism was preached from the pulpit as God’s Word handed down from on high. And you might’ve found me among the right-wing ranks had I not attended a little private school further East, closer to where my parents worked—a school much more ethnically diverse than my public school, and much, much closer to New York City.

Just to further fuel the allegations of urban snobbery, I was completely ashamed of where I grew up. The kids at school made fun of me for living in the boonies. I pestered my parents to move east. I didn’t want a quaint life on a pretty, little lake. I wanted to be where stuff was happening, where I could walk to convenience stores and play street basketball games, preferably with black people. That’s what was cool when I was a kid and that’s where I wanted to be.

So on the one hand, I think that this explanation of a collective middle finger to The City and all it represents makes total, complete, and perfect sense. People in the country have struggled along while their jobs have disappeared and their communities have been forgotten—all the while being written off and looked down upon by those in Washington and cities around America. I get it. It’s tough.

But the other part of me wants to respond with a middle finger of my own. And I’m afraid it feeds right into the narrative of urban snobbery and elitism we’ve been hearing about.

I want to reply angrily to rural Trump voters: “Well I hope it feels good. And I hope it still feels good four years from now, when you’re still as economically depressed, neglected and looked down upon as you are today, and meanwhile millions of undocumented workers, Syrian refugees, Ukrainians, NATO allies, and poor people from other countries who had better jobs thanks to free trade agreements have suffered through the first term of President Donald Trump. I hope that big Fuck You you delivered last Tuesday still makes you feel great. Like, you really stuck it to us.”

Then, with condescending sarcasm, I want to remind them, as they moan about machines and foreigners taking their good, secure jobs that pay decent living wages, that the American Dream is open to all people. And that if they just buckled down and worked harder, stayed out of trouble and laid off the meth, I’m sure as heck they’d get ahead and succeed, just like I have.

This is my snobbery in full effect. Let’s just get it out there, as I continue to spew ...

These are the people who preach Capitalism and the value of Competition in the marketplace. And to them I want to open my arms and say, “COME. COMPETE.” Come to The City and compete with us—the doers and makers of this society. We make the movies you watch, the shows you stream, the video games you play, the Internet you surf.

And I get that maybe they’re resentful, but I’ve got some resentments of my own. See, I left my nothing town full of nobodies. I moved to Boston, got a job at an ad agency and worked my way up to creative director, making a six-figure salary and shooting commercials like a real-life Don Draper. It’s a pretty cool job by most people’s standards. And I didn’t get it because my parents knew somebody in the industry, or because I went to some elite college. I didn’t have an “In.” I just had talent and desire and I worked at it and it eventually worked out.

And working hard in my career isn’t where it all began. Before that I worked hard in school. And you know what? Most of the other kids I knew who worked hard in school are here in The City making stuff and making money. And maybe when we were working hard in school, you were making fun of us. And maybe it feels a little bit good to stick it to you.

I practice what you preach. I worked hard and I succeeded. If I espoused conservatism, I’d be what they call a Self-Made Man, a big success story. But because I’d like my success to help buoy others who haven’t had the same chances, I’m called an Elitist.

There’s a lot of generalizations here, of course. But a map of the United States divided into two colors is perhaps the greatest generalization of all. And I’m sure some will be offended by my words. This is not a scientific article, or even an op-ed designed to offer a defensible position, but merely a memoir combined with a rant under the guise of a confession.

But I wonder if some of it rings true for some of the folks reading this. And I wonder if a resentful person living in the country might see things from my point of view.

(http://www.autoadmit.com/thread.php?thread_id=3801665&forum_id=2#34717669)