OPINION | ALABAMA POLITICS
From the diner counter to the storm shelter, Alabamians agree on more than our politics lets us admit.
By JC | Contributing Columnist | November 1, 2026
BIRMINGHAM, Ala. — Walk into any diner in this state at six in the morning and listen. You’ll hear a farmer worried about the price of feed, a nurse coming off a twelve-hour shift, a retired lineman talking about his grandkids, and a young mother wondering how she’ll stretch the paycheck to Friday. Ask them what they want, and you’ll hear nearly the same answer every time. They want good jobs. Safe streets. Schools that actually teach their children. Roads that don’t swallow a tire. A hospital close enough to reach in time. And the freedom to raise their families and worship God the way their conscience leads.
That’s not a red list or a blue list. That’s an Alabama list.
So why does it feel like we can’t stand to be in the same room anymore?
“Somebody profits every time we get mad at our neighbor.”
The Anger Business
Somewhere along the way, outrage became a product. It’s sold on cable news, in fundraising emails, and in the endless scroll of our phones. Somebody profits every time we get mad at our neighbor. The algorithm doesn’t care whether you’re right; it cares whether you’re angry enough to keep watching.
And it works. We’ve learned to see the person across the aisle not as a fellow Alabamian with a different idea, but as an enemy. We stop asking, “What do you think we should do?” and start asking, “Whose side are you on?”
That second question has never filled a pothole, staffed a rural clinic, or kept a single kid in school.
What Division Costs Us
When our politics turns into a cage fight, the real work gets left on the table. Problems that need patient, unglamorous cooperation simply sit there. Rural communities keep waiting. Families keep struggling. Young people with talent keep packing up and leaving for places they think will give them a better shot.
Meanwhile, those of us who stay spend our energy shouting past each other. We burn bridges with people we’ll need tomorrow: the neighbor with the chainsaw after a storm, the coworker who covers our shift, the cousin at Thanksgiving.
Alabama knows storms. When a tornado tears through a county, nobody checks voter registrations before they start pulling people out of the rubble. Churches open their doors. Strangers show up with water, generators, and casseroles. In those moments, we remember exactly who we are.
Why do we need a disaster to remind us?
A Different Way to Disagree
I’m not asking anyone to give up their convictions. Disagreement is healthy. It’s how a free people sharpens its thinking. Iron sharpens iron. But there’s a difference between arguing to solve a problem and arguing to win a fight.
Here’s what I believe could change things, one porch and one pew at a time:
Start with what we share. Before the debate, name the goal you both want. Better schools. Lower costs. Safer towns. Then argue about how to get there.
Assume the best about people. Most folks who vote differently than you love this state just as much as you do. They’ve just lived a different life and seen different things.
Turn it off sometimes. If a show, a page, or a feed leaves you angrier every time, ask who benefits from that anger. It probably isn’t you.
Show up locally. City councils, school boards, and county commissions shape our daily lives more than anything in Washington. And at that level, you can actually look your neighbor in the eye.
Hold leaders to results, not rhetoric. Reward the ones who build things and work across lines. Stop rewarding the ones who just give us someone to hate.
The Song We Already Know
I’ve spent my life in music, and I’ll tell you something every band learns: you can have the loudest players in the world, but if nobody’s listening to each other, it’s just noise. The magic happens when everybody locks into the same groove. Different instruments, different parts, one song.
Alabama has that song in it. We’ve heard it in our churches, our ballfields, our kitchens, and our storm shelters. We just have to stop drowning it out.
We want the same thing. We always have. The anger is getting us nowhere. Maybe it’s time we put it down and pick up the work, together.
“Behold, how good and how pleasant it is for brethren to dwell together in unity!” — Psalm 133:1
JC is a Birmingham-area musician, writer, and founder of We Rock Network LLC. He holds a master’s degree in creative writing. The views expressed are his own.
