When will women in rural Missouri have true abortion access?

On November 5, 2024, as much of the country watched Donald Trump regain the presidency, abortion advocates in Missouri celebrated. Amendment 3, a ballot proposition to repeal Missouri's total abortion ban, had passed. Missouri was one of seven states that enacted amendments to protect abortion rights on November 5. And in a state that Donald Trump won by over 18 points, voters had somehow simultaneously restored the right to abortion by a narrow margin of 52 to 48 percent. For abortion advocates, passing Amendment 3 was a hard-fought but undeniable victory. 

Then, the question became: "What's next?"

For rural Missourians, the answer is complicated. Over the past few decades, Missouri has severely limited abortion access. Hit hardest were women in rural communities. For years, there were only three abortion clinics in Missouri, which has a population of over 6 million. By 2017, a Planned Parenthood in St. Louis was the only place in the entire state you could get a medical abortion. And in 2022, Missouri passed the "Right to Life of the Unborn Child Act," a trigger ban that months later became the first in the nation to go into effect when Dobbs v. Jackson overturned the constitutional right to an abortion. 

This was the landscape framing desperate efforts to restore medical access to abortion in Missouri. But celebrations fell quiet in weeks after the election as anti-abortion advocates began to respond. Elected officials in Missouri pledged to "vigorously defend" abortion bans in the state. On January 16, 2025, U.S. Senator Josh Hawley (R-MO) introduced federal legislation to defund Planned Parenthood. I felt my own stomach churn when my little sister, a veterinary student at the University of Missouri, texted me: "I'm getting anxious. About living [here]." 

One-third of Missourians live in rural areas. But even those in urban counties have felt the effects of the decades-long effort to restrict access to abortion. Columbia, Missouri, where my sister lives, has a population of 130,000. But it's over a two hour drive to St. Louis, where the sole abortion provider in Missouri is located. Rural Ozark County ⁠— which has a 29.6 percent poverty rate, the highest in the state — is a four hour drive from St. Louis. Not to mention travel costs, medical expenses, and scraping together time off work — all challenges exacerbated by rurality.

While Amendment 3 granted abortion access until the point of fetal viability, the St. Louis Planned Parenthood cannot legally resume providing abortions. This is, in part, due to a December ruling by Jackson County Judge Jerri Zhang which upheld licensure requirements for abortion clinics — meaning that though Missourians have a renewed right to abortion, there is no place for them to obtain one. This leaves rural women in Missouri vulnerable, particularly those in the southern half, where the nearest abortion clinic might be several states away. 

However, progress was made: In the same opinion, Judge Zhang struck down other restrictive laws, including a 72-hour waiting period and a requirement that physicians who perform abortions have admitting privileges in all hospitals that provide obstetric or gynaecological care within "30 minutes or a 15-minute drive." Judge Zhang considered rural Missourians in the decision, writing that: 

[A] person who travels three hours to get a medication abortion and then returns home, would not benefit from [these restrictions]. If complications arise after taking the medication, the individual would need to seek emergency care at the nearest hospital emergency room, as with any other medical emergency.

Aside from the judiciary, what else can be done? In a state like Missouri, where only 28.9 percent of statewide legislators are women, many will turn to grassroots organizing. "What's Next?," an organization dedicated to improving abortion access in Missouri, has advocated for Know-Your-Rights Trainings and other local initiatives. In a 2024 study by the Kaiser Family Foundation, over 35 percent of rural women reported they wouldn't know where to go or where to find abortion information. This post by Rooney Debutts details other statewide legislative efforts to improve abortion access. 

One thing is clear: The fight for abortion access in rural Missouri is far from over. 

Selma deserves our attention more than one day a year

 On March 7, 1965, 600 activists began peacefully marching in Alabama from Selma to Montgomery to protest the rampant voter suppression of Black Americans. 

Activists chose Selma as the starting point for their march due to its infamous voter suppression, with the Alabama Governor George Wallace opposing desegregation and the local county sheriff opposing Black voter registration drives. As such, only one percent of voting-age Black citizens were registered to vote, and those who tried to vote often faced violence, like police brutality. 

As marchers crossed the Edmund Pettus Bridge in Selma in 1965, 150 Alabama state troopers descended with little to no warning, violently and maliciously attacking and injuring the peaceful marchers with tear gas and clubs. 

The event became known as Bloody Sunday. The attack sparked national outrage that led to the passage of the Voting Rights Act later that year. The city of Selma, and the Edmund Pettus Bridge in particular, became an enduring symbol for the Civil Rights movement. In the 2020 Democratic primaries, for example, nearly every presidential candidate on the ticket visited Selma to commemorate the anniversary of Bloody Sunday.

As we approach the 60th anniversary of Bloody Sunday this year, politicians will surely flock to the city to walk across the bridge, take photos, and declare the importance of voting rights. However, Selma’s voter suppression and lack of resources, the very reason activists chose it as the location for the march nearly 60 years ago, has not been magically resolved.

Instead, Selma remains a deeply rural area with residents who feel abandoned by their government. Selma is located in the Black Belt region of south central Alabama and has a population of around 17,971 people. About 80 percent of that population is Black.

Ryan Zickgraf describes in his article “Politicians Come to Selma Every Year to Commemorate the Civil Rights Struggle, But Nothing Changes” how the downtown is largely made up of empty and crumbling stores and homes. He talks to Selma native, Owen Peak, who warns:

This is a do-or-die time here – we really need help.

Yet, residents feel they are not receiving help when they need it most. In Chris Arnade’s article “‘Still a city of slaves’- Selma, in the words of those who live there,” Council McReynolds, a lifetime resident of Selma, states that all the factories have closed and that:

Selma has been left behind, and folks are certainly not working together.

In 2020, Selma and the surrounding Dallas County had voter turnout of under 57 percent, among the worst in the state. In Jay Reeves’ article “Despite its civil rights history, Selma, Alabama sees steady voter turnout decline,” Resident Tyrone Clarke explains why, despite the extreme effort and bodily harm endured to pass the Voting Rights Act of 1965, residents remain hesitant to visit the polls:

You have a whole lot of people who look at the conditions and don’t see what good it’s going to do for them. You know, ‘How is this guy or that guy being in office going to affect me in this little, rotten town here?’

The numbers tell a similar somber, distressing tale as Selma’s residents. As discussed in a previous blog post, Selma is Alabama’s poorest town. In 2022, the poverty rate in Selma was 29.5 percent. That same year, the median household income was $31,084, less than half the 2022 national average of $74,580. With a high poverty rate and without any prospect of a job, many people turn to using or dealing drugs.

Yet Selma, like the rest of Alabama, has some of the strictest policies concerning drugs, coupled with the second highest incarceration rate in the country; policies that disproportionately affect Black residents. One man from Selma, recently released from prison, commented:

Once I got my felony, I became the walking dead. I couldn’t do nothing. I couldn’t vote, I couldn’t drive, and I sure as hell couldn’t work, so I sat around doing nothing, until I started selling again.

A terrible cycle exists in Selma in which people cannot find a job, turn to drugs, get arrested, and then receive a felony on their record that disqualifies them from more work and the right to vote for politicians who will make the town better.

The yearly pilgrimage to Selma highlights the irony of celebrating a pivotal moment in civil rights history in a town that fails to reap any concrete benefits of that progress, and feels the lasting impact of centuries of discriminatory policies.

As politicians flock to Selma for their annual visit and photo-ops, they should prioritize Selma the other 364 days of the year. While the Voting Rights Act of 1965 should be celebrated, the work to push forward civil rights is far from over in Selma.

Country roads, I’m coming back home

After almost a decade of losing population, rural America has seen renewed population growth. Between 2010 and 2020, the article “Rural America Lost Population Over the Past Decade for the First Time in History” describes how rural areas lost population compared to previous decades. The decline did not occur only in remote rural areas but also in rural areas adjacent to metropolitan counties. John Cromartie, a geographer from USDA in the Rural Economy Branch, Resource and Rural Economics Division, found a negative rural net migration rate between 2010 to 2016 and a near-zero rate between 2017 and 2020.

However, since 2020, rural net migration rates have increased. The 2023 USDA Economic Research Report, “Rural America at a Glance,” discusses how more than 480 rural counties saw a growth rate of two percent or more. Typically, these counties were near large metropolitan areas such as the southern Appalachians and Ozarks, the northern Great Lakes, and the Rocky Mountains. Population migration to these recreation and retirement destinations is often referred to as “amenity migration.”

One reason for the major shift in migration patterns was fear of exposure to COVID-19. Early in the pandemic, the USDA Economic Research Service reported that the presence of COVID-19 cases was higher in metropolitan areas until October 2021. This likely caused urban residents to seek shelter in rural places. However, soon after, nonmetropolitan areas started to experience a greater prevalence of cumulative COVID-19 cases than metropolitan areas.

Another reason for the big shift in migration patterns was an increase in remote job opportunities. The U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics indicates that telework increased among all industries between 2019 and 2021. When social distancing policies were removed in 2022, remote work participation fell slightly but was still higher in most industries compared to participation in 2019. “Rural America at a Glance describes how remote jobs have provided the working-age population with more flexibility and locational freedom. In addition to attracting new residents, employment opportunities have encouraged people to stay within these rural areas. In 2022, rural America reached record-low unemployment rates. Federal legislation, notably the Inflation Reduction Act of 2022, provided new jobs for rural Americans in the clean energy industry.

Although rural America has been slowly growing its population, both current and future rural Americans are still facing problems. For example, “Rural America at a Glance” reports that housing insecurity remains a persistent issue for low-income nonmetropolitan renters, particularly among Hispanic and American Indian or Alaska Natives. Also, high poverty rates have been an ongoing problem for particular rural counties. Generally, though, poverty has been on a downward trend over the past fifteen years.

Rural America has seen an increase in population after losing a decade of negative and near-zero rural net migration rate. Despite this growth, there are still issues persisting in these areas. If rural America hopes to accommodate these future populations, there needs to be an emphasis on helping to increase resources and opportunities.

For more articles on rural population loss and its consequences, see Aging and population loss in small-town Pennsylvania and California rural schools facing teacher shortages.

Ameliorating the rural attorney shortage by amending the federal Public Service Loan Forgiveness Program

Rural communities throughout the United States are experiencing an acute legal crisis: they aren’t home to enough lawyers. One report estimates that only “2% of small law practices in the United States are located in rural places, even though less than one-fifth of the nation’s population lives in rural locales.” 

The consequences of this phenomenon are tangible. Studies indicate that rural Americans living in legal deserts are more likely to be afflicted by a myriad of issues such as a lack of access to health care, housing insecurity, and substance abuse. These consequences are further compounded by the fact that attorney deserts exist more commonly in high poverty areas. 

So what is the primary cause of rural legal deserts? 

Some reports have cited “social isolation” and a “lack of racial/cultural diversity” as driving forces behind the problem, while others have speculated that “[t]ransportation and associated costs are a burden to those living in rural areas.” These factors, and a number of others, certainly play a role perpetuating the rural attorney shortage. However, the problem is more aptly explained by one looking at one factor: money. 

Rural legal deserts, to a great extent, can be understood as a function of the price of law school and the concentration of job opportunities in metropolitan markets. A study conducted by the Education Data Initiative found that “[t]he average law school graduate owes $130,000 in student loan debts” and that “71% of law school students graduate in debt.” The cost of attending law school, in turn, incentivizes junior lawyers to pursue employment opportunities that will give them the best chance to pay back their loans in a reasonable amount of time. 

One way of doing so is securing employment with a large firm offering high first year attorney salaries. Another common route is working in the public sector which then allows debt laden graduates to take advantage of loan forgiveness programs. 

These paths lead to careers that differ greatly in a number of respects. However, they share one characteristic highly relevant to the subject of rural legal deserts. That is, the overwhelming number of job opportunities with both large private firms and government agencies are in centralized metropolitan areas. As a result, most lawyers find themselves establishing roots in urban communities, thereby decreasing the likelihood that they will ever pursue a career in a rural America. 

So what can be done to address the issue? 

The California Commission on Access to Justice (the “Commission”) has proffered a number of state level solutions to alleviate the problem. These solutions include having law schools expand the scope of their loan forgiveness programs (which are typically reserved for those going into public interest work) to include graduates going into private practice in an underserved community. 

While this state-by-state, school-by-school solution would help, it would leave gaps. As noted by the American Bar Association, less than half of the states have their own statewide loan repayment assistance programs. Rather, the national breadth of the issue and the existence of federal loan forgiveness legislation, when considered together, seem to suggest that the best approach to the problem is a federal approach. 

Rather than having law schools expand the scope of their loan forgiveness programs, a more cohesive solution would be to amend the federal Public Service Loan Forgiveness (“PSLF”) Program, so that first-year attorneys going to work for a private firm located within a rural legal desert would be eligible for debt relief. 

Currently, only those working for U.S.-based government organizations and certain not-for-profit organizations qualify for the PSLF Program. However, in light of the program's underlying purpose -- "to encourage individuals to enter and continue in full-time public service" -- the argument for expanding the statutes employer eligibility carries significant weight. 

Like attorneys performing government services or working for non-profits, private attorneys working out of rural legal deserts perform an important public service.  As noted by UC Davis Law Professor Lisa Pruitt, rural attorneys work with communities suffering "disproportionately from poverty, poor health outcomes, the opioid epidemic, educational deficits, and environmental degradation, among other challenges." 

The argument for expanding the PSLF Program's employer eligibility requirement is further bolstered by the fact the many, if not most, private rural attorneys are paid at similar, or lower, rates than a number of government attorneys. For instance, a district attorney working in San Jose, CA, has an average salary of $127, 518. In contrast, at least one rural legal practice report has found that "[t]he prevalence of indigent clients [in rural communities] contributes to the financial stress that many rural attorneys experience." So, it would not be far fetched to assume that most private rural attorneys make substantially less than other government positions that qualify for the PSLF Program. 

In sum, there exists little basis for excluding private rural attorneys from the PSLF Program. These attorneys offer invaluable services to an often overlooked, highly vulnerable segment of the American population. While amending the PSLF Program might not solve the issue entirely, it may go a long way in helping. 

Rural areas need wildfire prevention funding, but who provides the funding?

The risk of wildfire is growing across the United States. Political battles continue over wildfire resources, such as whether Cal Fire resources were adequately allocated to fight the catastrophic Los Angeles wildfires. As the risk of wildfire grows, the cost of prevention efforts also grows. The question of who pays for these expensive wildfire prevention efforts has not yet been answered.

Rural communities almost always need additional state or federal funding to facilitate wildfire prevention projects. For example, the state of Colorado and its rural populations are prone to catastrophic wildfire events. At the same time, the Colorado legislature is looking “to cut nearly $1 billion in state spending this session.”

This drastic cut in budgeting is concerning to Colorado representatives who represent rural areas with high wildfire risk. Many legislators, like Rep. Elizabeth Velasco, D-Glenwood Springs, are concerned that “budget shortfall could impact wildfire mitigation efforts that they say are becoming more needed — and expensive.”

Velasco is sponsoring House Bill 1078 to address the concerns of the rural communities she represents. House Bill 1078 would create a “workforce of foresters and firefighters with grants for certifications, training initiatives, and an outreach campaign to promote job opportunities.” These foresters and firefighters are crucial to getting wildfire prevention projects off the ground and the funding would come directly from the state. Currently, there are not enough foresters and firefighters to help manage the millions of forested lands in the United States.

However, the Colorado Legislature may not want to spend an additional $3 million on House Bill 1078. Supporters of House Bill 1078 are concerned as party leaders are only supporting bills that have a $0 price tag. Wildfire prevention projects are expensive, but rural communities, like those that Velasco represents, desperately need state funding, and the people to advance such projects.

Rural communities in Colorado are already facing extreme wildfire risk. With recent trends in the number of wildfires across the United States, it's not a question of if Colorado will experience a catastrophic wildfire, but it's a question of when.

In another state facing the same wildfire issues, federal money is going to citizen-led nonprofit groups to help mitigate wildfire risk. Citizens in the state of Oregon have formed nonprofit groups, like the Lomakatsi Restoration Project. Based in Ashland, Oregon, the Lomakatsi Restoration Project sends crews out into the mountains with chainsaws and other equipment to clear underbrush and ladder fuels. The crews have one goal, to “protect the valley from wildfire.”

The Lomakastsi Restoration Project traces its roots back to Hoedads Inc., which is commonly referred to as simply “the Hoedads.” The Hoedads was a large worker cooperative that began in the 1970s and planted trees following logging operations across the Pacific Northwest. The Hoedad's numbers grew and they were “eventually performing a good portion of tree planting in the country, getting millions in federal contracts with hundreds of workers organized into crews.”

Slowly, the Hoedads began to die out as private companies took over. Private logging companies hired cheap migrant labor and the Hoedads couldn’t compete. By the mid-1990’s the Hoedad project was over.

Although there are no more official Hoedad groups, the Lomakastsi Restoration Project is “carrying the torch.” The Lomakastsi Restoration Project receives federal funding but instead of planting trees, they focus on wildfire prevention by removing brush and other high-hazard fuels.

Federal and state funding allows rural communities to implement wildfire prevention projects. Clearing brush and creating fuel breaks is expensive and needs to be done on millions of acres. Over the next decade, the National Forest Service plans to manage 20 million acres in an effort to reduce the severity of wildfires.

Without funding, rural communities across the nation will continue to live in fear of the next catastrophic wildfire event. The destructive power of wildfires continues to grow with climate change. Hopefully, in the coming months, federal and state governments allocate more funding to wildfire prevention projects before fire season returns.

Arkansas newspaper columnist's 2025 wish list implicates ecotourism, local autonomy, and the future of my home town

Arkansas Democrat-Gazette columnist Rex Nelson published a wish list last week of things he'd like to see happen in Arkansas this year.  Among them, he this wrote this about Newton County, where I grew up (and about which I've often written on the blog):

I would like to see brothers Tom and Steuart Walton, along with Bass Pro Shops founder Johnny Morris, continue their environmentally sensitive efforts to transform Newton County into a nationally known outdoor recreational hub. Rather than sawing down trees, mining gravel from streams, raising hogs and raising chickens, hardworking people in this part of the Ozarks will be able to make a good living in ways that don't harm the environment. The massive investments being made by the Waltons and Morris will lead to new shops and restaurants. Entrepreneurs already are starting to discover formerly sleepy places like Jasper.

This sort of thinking is not new to Nelson (formerly a senior advisor to Governor Mike Huckabee in the late 1990s), as you can see from reading prior blog posts here, here, and here.

What is especially striking about this most recent Nelson column is how condescending Nelson is to long-time Newton County residents--perhaps I should call them legacy residents--whose vision differs from his.  Theirs is often the vision passed down from their parents, one that has them making money off the land in whatever way they can, including from industrial agriculture and timber harvesting.   As I have written previously, it would be interesting to know the extent to which the county's legacy families benefit from development like that which Nelson promotes--and the extent to which they have a say in how--and how fast--it happens.  

Pitting of rural against urban in relation to Los Angeles fires

The Los Angeles Times is reporting this morning that Cal Fire sent resources to rural California, prioritizing the state's remote reaches over the area destroyed in the Palisades fire.  Here's the lede for Connor Sheets' story: 

Since 2021, state authorities have repeatedly declined to fund wildfire prevention efforts in communities devastated by the Palisades fire, according to Cal Fire records, which show the agency instead poured money into projects in far-flung rural areas.

Records reviewed by The Times show Cal Fire elected not to fund more than $3.8 million in Wildfire Prevention Grants for Santa Monica Mountains communities including Pacific Palisades and Malibu over the last four years.

Meanwhile, many other projects in areas sometimes deemed by the state to be at lower wildfire risk received most or all of the amounts they requested — and in some instances even more. The sums, often in the millions of dollars, were allocated for a range of projects and tasks, including clearing brush with goats and distributing informational mailers.

* * * 

A Cal Fire spokesperson said a total of $17.8 million has been granted for 33 Wildfire Prevention Projects in L.A. County since the 2020-21 fiscal year, with nearly 125 acres of land within five miles of the Palisades fire “treated” with brush removal and other fuel reduction efforts over the last four years.

* * * 

Cal Fire declined to grant some of the funding the council requested because the initial proposal “included ‘home hardening’ — which is funded by an alternate grant program.”

For comparison sake, Sheets includes this information:

Meanwhile, also in August, Cal Fire awarded the Shasta Valley Resource Conservation District $86,000 more than the $1.7 million it had requested to “mechanically remove trees” on 682 acres outside the city of Yreka. Home to fewer than 8,000 people near Mt. Shasta, the surrounding area has seen large fires in recent years.

As part of the same grant program, the state agency in August awarded nearly $300,000 more than the $1.78 million Mariposa County — which has a population of around 20,000 — requested to manage vegetation along county-maintained roadways.

I'm sure we'll be hearing more about this in the coming days, but for now I'll just express regret over this pitting of rural versus urban.  I also wonder about the extent to which places like Los Angeles are seen as a lower priority because of their more robust metro fire departments.  I also note that the fires now raging in Los Angeles County have been characterized by FEMA not as wildfires, but as conflagrations fueled by structures.   That said, I believe these fires are thought to have been ignited in brush or woodlands that are part of the Santa Monica Mountains. 

US DOJ announces Access to Justice Prize to close "Rural Justice Gap"

This is from the Department of Justice press release.  

The Justice Department’s Office for Access to Justice today announced the launch of the Access to Justice Prize, a year-long prize competition that aims to foster innovative solutions to address critical gaps in access to justice across the United States. The inaugural competition will focus on access to justice gaps faced by rural communities across the country, aiming to advance general public awareness about rural access to justice gaps; prompt and support the development of new and innovative solutions; and promote the replication and expansion of strategies that work.

“Through our engagement with courts, justice practitioners, legal aid providers, academic institutions and other organizations across the country, we’ve heard loud and clear that solutions to close the rural justice gap must begin with rural communities themselves,” said Director Rachel Rossi of the Justice Department’s Office for Access to Justice. “Through the Access to Justice Prize competition, we further this approach, empowering those who best know the barriers their communities face to drive the effective solutions that will ensure access to justice for all, regardless of geography.”

Nationwide access to justice barriers are often exacerbated for rural Americans, especially when unique circumstances like long travel times, limited internet access or lack of attorneys are too often overlooked. A 2022 study by the Legal Services Corporation revealed that 77% of low-income rural households experienced at least one civil legal problem in the previous year, with 94% receiving inadequate or no legal help. Additionally, rural criminal justice systems are strained by part-time judges, contract defense counsel and lacking prosecutorial resources. Studies demonstrate that recruitment and retention challenges are increasing for criminal justice careers in rural areas, including for public defenders, prosecutors and law enforcement. And rural courts face rising caseloads, delay, uneven workloads among judges and lack of resources.

The 2025 Access to Justice Prize aims to inspire and support innovative ideas that address these challenges by engaging those closest to the issues — rural courts, practitioners and organizations. Eligible participants are encouraged to submit proposals for any solutions that expand access to justice, including, for example, solutions to:

• Expanding access to legal representation, legal assistance, or legal information 
• Utilizing alternatives to counsel or other innovative legal assistance models

Breaking down barriers to accessing legal systems, including barriers disproportionately faced by rural Americans, like lack of proximity to a courthouse, ability to travel or access to broadband

Simplifying legal processes, systems, forms, or language

Reducing disparities among those navigating, or impacted by, legal systems

Reducing the need for interaction with civil and criminal legal systems or developing efficient alternatives to justice processes

Reducing any harmful effects of legal systems

Accessing and utilizing technology to expedite and promote efficiency within courts and legal systems

Advancing cost-saving strategies

Expanding language access, utilizing written, spoken, and sign languages, as well as auxiliary communication aids and services

Expanding access for people with disabilities

Expanding access for specific rural populations, such as Tribal communities, low-income communities, communities of color, or other historically underserved communities

Identifying and establishing innovative cross-sector, cross-agency, or otherwise unique partnerships to expand access to legal systems

Reducing financial or economic barriers to accessing legal systems or economic conditions imposed on those impacted by legal systems

Improving legal or other supports for victims and/or survivors

Expanding access to legal systems by taking court/legal processes or assistance to communities, outside of the courtroom

Expanding access to basic and collateral needs for those in rural communities who interact with legal systems, including, for example, housing, food, employment, etc.

Promoting efficiency of systems or processes through customer or user experience strategies

More information and additional examples can be found here. 

The competition will run on a one-year cycle, starting in January 2025, and will feature two judging phases:Finalist Selection: Up to five finalists will receive $5,000 each and then refine their proposals over a six-month phase in preparation to compete for the grand prize.

Grand Prize Selection: Finalists will present their solutions at an Access to Justice Showcase, where judges will select the grand prize winner to receive $50,000.

Below is the timeline for the year-long Access to Justice Prize competition cycle:

• Jan. 7: Submissions open
• March 31: Submission deadline
• April 30: Finalists announced
• May 1 – Oct. 31: Refinement Phase
• Early December 2025: Grand Prize Showcase and winner announcement.  

A rural-ish California region neglected by both political parties

Brawley, California mayor Gil Rebollar wrote a powerful op-ed in the Los Angeles Times a few days ago about one of the state's out-of-the way, agricultural regions--a place often labeled "disadvantaged."  The headline is "In Imperial County, we’ve been abandoned by Democrats and Republicans," and some key excerpts follow about the politics and economics of this primarily Latina/o county in southeastern California, on the Arizona state line.  With a population of 179,702, the county is metropolitan, but widely thought of as rural because of the dominance of agriculture.    

Since the conclusion of the election, much of the media have painted Imperial Valley as having dramatically shifted its politics. With President-elect Donald Trump jumping from 37% of the 2020 vote in the region to 49% this year, many now claim that it has “flipped” from blue to red. Are we a once-blue county making a revolutionary realignment toward the Republican Party, or one growing more purple?

The truth is neither. The Imperial Valley is not living through a left-versus-right war, a storyline far too easy and convenient for pundits to resist as they lazily view our region as a political novelty. Trump’s strong local finish does not mark a sudden conservative awakening, just as the region’s previous Democratic lean did not reflect an unwavering progressive faith.

The truth is more damning. The Imperial Valley is neither red nor blue. Instead, it is a place that feels betrayed by both parties.

Imperial County is the youngest county in California, forgotten in its southeast corner. We have long been treated like the runt of the litter, distancing ourselves from politics and known for having low voter turnouts.

* * * 

Lithium extraction in the northern part of the county, dubbed “Lithium Valley,” is supposed to help save us from our employment and economic woes and power the country’s clean energy transition. Yet local leaders have to fight desperately for support from the state and federal government.

In September, Gov. Gavin Newsom vetoed a bill that would have designated “Lithium Valley” and all Imperial County surrounding the Salton Sea as the Southeast California Economic Region to better align state and federal support surrounding affected communities and clean energy development in the area. The same month, the Biden administration’s Department of Energy Loan Programs Office awarded $3 billion in grants for domestic battery production — not a single dollar of which made it to Imperial Valley.

* * *

This election is not a cautionary tale for the Democrats, nor a success story for Republicans. It is a warning to both.

The Imperial Valley is not a prize to be brandished after each election cycle. Our plight is not red or blue; it is human. This is our home, our community, and we have a future worth fighting for.

The author, Mr. Rebollar, represents the seven incorporated cities of Imperial County on the Southern California Assn. of Governments Regional Council.  Brawley's population is 27,849.