In the shadow of gleaming college football stadiums and the rhetoric of American exceptionalism, a stark reality festers—one that powerful interests would rather keep buried. Alabama, a state rich in resources and labor, is home to some of the most severe poverty in the industrialized world. Here, in the so-called Heart of Dixie, the contradictions of a system that prioritizes profit over people are laid bare: raw sewage bubbles into the yards of families living in shacks, parasitic diseases once thought eradicated have reemerged, and children go to bed hungry in a nation that produces enough food to feed the world. This is not a natural disaster; it is the predictable outcome of decades of systemic neglect, exploitation, and the relentless concentration of wealth into the hands of a few. As a resident of Alabama’s Black Belt, I have witnessed how the machinery of inequality grinds down working people, stripping them of their dignity and their rights—all while telling them they have only themselves to blame.
Alabama’s poverty is not hidden; it is visible in the open sewers of Lowndes County, where wastewater from failing septic systems floods into the yards of residents who cannot afford the $30,000 cost of proper sanitation. This raw sewage, a toxic reminder of institutional abandonment, has led to the resurgence of hookworm—a parasite typically associated with the world’s most impoverished nations. In 2017, a study found that 19 of 55 individuals tested in one community were infected with this preventable disease, which thrives in environments where people are forced to live without basic sanitation. As Philip Alston, the U.N. Special Rapporteur on extreme poverty, observed after touring the region, such conditions are "uncommon in the First World" and reflect a level of environmental degradation that he had never witnessed in the developed world.
Behind the statistics are real people. Families like the Halcombes, who live yards away from a wastewater lagoon that serves their town but are not connected to the sewer system. When it rains, the waste from the lagoon backs up into their yard, creating a lake of raw sewage that threatens their health and well-being. "They need to get that sewage out the lawn here. It shouldn’t be in this neighborhood," Charlie Mae Halcombe told reporters. Yet, for decades, her predominantly African American community has been ignored by local authorities, who have never conducted a comprehensive survey to assess the scope of the problem. Similarly, Pamela Rush, a resident of rural Alabama, lived for over 20 years with a straight pipe running from her home to carry waste into her yard because she could never afford a septic tank. Her story is not unique; it is the reality for roughly half the homes in Lowndes County, where failing or nonexistent sewage systems are the norm.
The exploitation in Alabama is deeply racialized. African Americans, who make up 70% of the population in the Black Belt region, are disproportionately affected by poverty, unemployment, and environmental hazards. In Dallas County, where Selma is located, 44% of the population lives below the poverty line, and nearly 30% suffer from food insecurity. These disparities are not accidental; they are the legacy of slavery, sharecropping, and decades of structural racism that have denied Black communities access to resources, political power, and economic opportunities. As Dr. Scott Harris, Alabama’s Chief Health Officer, acknowledged, "There’s a clear racial disparity here... People who are impoverished, particularly African-American people who are impoverished, lack the social capital to be able to get their problems addressed".
Alabama’s extreme poverty is a product of deliberate policy choices. While affluent, predominantly white neighborhoods received modern sewage systems decades ago, rural Black communities were left to fend for themselves. This apartheid-like infrastructure is mirrored in every aspect of life: from the underfunded schools where fewer than 5% of students are math proficient, to the food deserts that stretch across the countryside, to the welfare policies that stigmatize the poor while doing little to alleviate their suffering. The U.N. report on poverty in the U.S. highlighted how this systemic neglect has created "a caste-like system" where millions of people, particularly minorities, are trapped in cycles of deprivation from which they cannot escape.
The ruling class perpetuates the myth that poverty is the result of individual failings—a lack of initiative, poor choices, or cultural deficiencies. This narrative ignores the historical and material conditions that have created and sustained inequality. It ignores the fact that during the pandemic, pandemic-era Social Safety Net benefits like stimulus checks and expanded healthcare coverage actually lifted some families out of poverty, only for them to fall back when those benefits were withdrawn. It ignores the fact that without collective action and institutional support, working people are left vulnerable to the whims of market forces that prioritize profit over human dignity.
The solution to Alabama’s crisis lies not in charity or temporary fixes, but in the organized power of the working class. Communities must come together to demand their rights to clean water, adequate housing, and living-wage jobs. This means:
The U.N.’s investigation into poverty in Alabama underscores the importance of international solidarity. By shining a light on the conditions in the Deep South, the U.N. has helped to challenge the narrative of American exceptionalism and hold the U.S. government accountable for its human rights obligations. We must continue to welcome such scrutiny and use it to build alliances with oppressed people around the world who are fighting similar battles against exploitation and neglect.
Finally, we must prioritize education and organizing. By raising awareness about the structural causes of poverty—and debunking the myth of individual responsibility—we can build a broad-based movement for change. This includes:
The struggle for justice in Alabama is part of a larger global fight against an economic system that values property over people and profit over planet. We stand at a crossroads: we can continue to allow the ruling class to divide us and exploit our labor, or we can unite across racial, geographic, and ideological lines to build a world where every person has the right to a dignified life. The resources exist to end poverty; what is lacking is the political will. As the U.N. report concluded, "The persistence of extreme poverty is a political choice made by those in power". It is time for the working people of Alabama to make a different choice—one of solidarity, resistance, and collective liberation.
The words of Willie Halcombe, standing in his sewage-flooded yard, echo across the generations: "This is sewage. Ok. That must be where it’s seeping through this sewage here". But beneath the surface, something else is seeping through: a rising tide of anger, and a determination to fight for a future where no child has to play in a cesspool, and no family has to choose between food and medicine. That future is within our grasp—if we have the courage to reach for it together.