Valid Crashout: Does the American Dream Still Exist?
Supporting the arts means also acknowledging the role politics plays in culture
Ever since Inauguration Day, I’ve found myself steeped in a stiff cocktail of emotions: rage, sadness, shock, disgust, and—against all odds—hope. My phone lights up constantly with news notifications: rights being rescinded, programs dismantled, and an Oval Office occupied by those who confuse disruption with leadership. A group of emotionally stunted, greed-fueled technocrats, attempting to reconstruct a country in the image of a Silicon Valley startup.
These are individuals who envision a world where opportunity is scarce, fear is currency, and economic systems serve only those already bloated with power. They chase a bottom line that never satisfies, feeding a hunger for dominance while everyday people just try to care for their families. Anyone who challenges their trajectory is branded an enemy of progress. But let’s call it what it is: a thinly veiled resurgence of fascism—no, not almost fascism. Fascism. History doesn’t repeat, but it does rhyme.
It’s frustrating to live in a world where education is devalued, where media literacy is at an all-time low, and where empathy is mistaken for weakness. Where saying "all children deserve free lunch" or "libraries should be funded" immediately brands you politically, rather than being seen as a call for collective care.
I hate it. I hate it. I hate it.
I feel like a maniac for caring. For being informed. For expressing outrage in conversations that are too often met with blank stares and indifference. I love my people. I love my community. Every single act from this federal regime impacts real lives. So why don’t you care? Why the silence? Why the neutrality?
In finance circles, I still hear questions like, "Do we really need DEI?" And nothing breaks my heart more than hearing a woman of color, a fellow daughter of immigrants, say she doesn’t believe in it. That we should "hire on merit." To which I want to respond: “Are you stupid or are you misinformed?”
DEI isn’t just about race. It’s about access. About family leave. About accommodations for people with disabilities. About respecting identity—whether it be pronouns or lived experience. Secure people don’t try to make others feel small. And confident professionals aren’t threatened by policies meant to help everyone thrive.
Don’t even get me started on the economy. You’d think financial professionals would understand basic economics. Democrats are excellent at economic policy. (We can get into the stats—job creation, GDP growth, income gains across middle- and working-class households. You name it.) But too many folks are just mad they aren’t part of the 1% club—and now we’re all paying the price for their unchecked insecurity.
Let me be clear: If the current policies worked for you, you’d be sitting in the presidential cabinet.
You cannot afford to be heartless in your economics. Period.
Maybe this all stems from my deep, lifelong love of country—a love shaped by childhood moments spent on the living room floor, helping my mom study for her citizenship exam. We bonded over learning about a country that had already changed my family’s story forever.
My mother’s side fled Cambodia during the violent reign of Pol Pot. My grandparents arrived in this country with nothing but their courage. They worked every job imaginable just to send their kids to school. My grandmother sold food and handmade goods to keep the family afloat. Education was everything—a ticket out of poverty, a ticket to the American Dream.
My father’s side? Proud American Jews. People who faced antisemitism, and instead of retreating, used their privilege and position to help fight injustice.
This is what it means to be American. Complicated. Rich with contradictions. Painful. Resilient. And yes, deeply beautiful.
My American identity is shaped by all of it. And it’s why I speak now.
Because politics is not separate from arts, culture, or finance.
Politics is culture. Identity is culture.
And right now, the American identity is under attack.
I can go on and on about my personal American Identity. Given I’m 29, and have many years to refine it. But my American Identity can be summed up in three phrases: I’m a patriot. I’m a Democrat. And I’m the American Dream personified.
My parents, sisters and I didn’t grow up with a lot of money. However, I’ve always been a wealthy woman. Maybe not in money, but in health, community, love and knowledge. My parents told me the mind was a powerful thing, and that if you were certain about a path—all you needed to do was work hard at it for it to materialize. Mind over matter. Grit and determination over limitation and scarcity. I knew other kids had significantly more financial means than my family, but I never let it handicap me. Like the generations before me, I am ever so resourceful. The world was my oyster and I have decided to get off my ass and take it.
I learned at a tender age, the significance of my country’s impact on my family. And I share a deep love for America because of it. A land where you can be free, a land that gave you a say in your government, a land where even if you were poor—they gave you a shot to climb out of it.
I’m not saying the United States is perfect. We’re…complicated but that’s like any family. I love my country because so many before me, fought for me—Nina—to be able to live and pursue my wildest dreams. To lend me the opportunity to challenge and evolve the United States of America to serve the next powerhouse after me.
If I walk away now, I would only be disrespecting the legacy of individuals who paved the path for my success. I am a patriot, and I’ll die before I let a motherfucker destroy what I love.
“In the long history of the world, only a few generations have been granted the role of defending freedom in its hour of maximum danger. I do not shrink from this responsibility—I welcome it.”
—President John F. Kennedy
I am a wealthy woman. Always have been. It is my belief that it is the responsibility of those with the means of power, influence, and legacy must act with integrity. Holding all three is not a status symbol—it’s a sacred responsibility.
Whether I have $3 or $3 billion dollars, I have operated with the intent to put kind, intentional, principled action into the world. To create solutions that give historically underrepresented groups the same opportunities—or better—than me.
It’s why I started my career in public service.
It’s why I now lead a private arts fund for emerging creators who’ve been shut out of the industry.
No one who is truly secure—who holds the holy trinity of power, influence, and legacy—seeks to destroy the downtrodden for personal gain.
They celebrate and empower them. I’m a Democrat.
“We lead not only by the example of our power, but by the power of our example.”
—President Joe Biden
I write this out of anger and disappointment in my peers, colleagues, politicians (on both sides of the aisle).
How did we allow for the collapse of our country before our very eyes?
The gall of us to continue living each day not holding those around us—or above us— to the high standard we once fought so hard to uphold.
All that progress, paid for in blood, sweat, and tears.
And for what?
For a man with too much spray tan and a little comedic charisma?
For weirdos who became cheap, tech-sellouts offering none of the public good their billionaire predecessors once understood?
Now we live in a society devoid of morals.
Devoid of connection.
Devoid of community.
“America, the land of the free. Home of the brave.”
“The land of opportunity,” my grandparents would say.
But once these Nazis have stripped us of our identity—who are we?
Does the American Dream even exist?
Written by:
Nina Orm