I was afraid of getting stuck. I was angry at the people leaving me behind. It was only a shadow of what Trump supporters feel.
In a zero-sum economic world, where the only opportunity is escape, escape becomes a threat to those who remain. Communities which were poor but healthy dwindle until all that remain are the disabled, the elderly, and the dysfunctional. The threat to the world as you understand it isn't necessarily your poverty -- the absolutes of material allocation -- but others' abundance.
Your community isn't being killed by its poverty. You can live with that, and have, and your parents had, and your grandparents had. It's being killed by opportunities elsewhere. It's being killed by the people who see that there's a better place for them and move on. When the property values plunge and the mills close and the mines lay off their workers, what are you left with? Who do you blame?
As your horizons close in, you become angry at the idea that anything lies beyond them. It's not envy. It's not privilege. It's that the world you live in can't be reconciled with the world that's on it's way. It's that the coal has dried up. It's that a new phosphate-refining process has been invented, and you aren't needed anymore. It's that no one can promise you that the world you know today will exist tomorrow.
It's that you remember that the America you know was great once, or at least livable, and that you're willing to follow anyone who is willing to promise you that the irreversible can be reversed. But because this bitter nostalgia isn't about absolute material conditions but relative conditions, it can't be solved by building poor white communities up.
It can only be solved by tearing their alternatives down.
Which we cannot do.
Which means that we have to live with this now and for a very long time.