We are repeatedly told that inflation is down, the economy is improving, and that relief is on the way. By the numbers, that is partly true. Inflation has cooled from its recent peak. Wages have risen modestly. The unemployment rate remains historically low, though the Black unemployment rate is twice the white rate. The man who lives in the House that Enslaved People Built treated us to yet another rant about how great he is. But his hysterical televised rant on Dec. 17 was woefully out of step with what many Americans are feeling.
Millions — indeed the majority — say they feel worse off than when the current president took office.
This is not a mystery, and it is not a matter of “vibes.” It is the result of how we talk about inflation while ignoring the lived reality of the cost of living.
Inflation measures how fast prices are rising, not whether prices are affordable. When inflation slows, it does not mean prices fall — it simply means they are rising more slowly. For families already stretched thin, “less bad” is still bad. Rent that jumped 20 percent and then rose another 4 percent is still rent that many cannot pay.
The disconnect between official economic narratives and household experience is not accidental. It reflects policy choices about what we measure, what we subsidize, and whose pain we normalize.
Housing is the most obvious example. Rents remain near record highs in many metropolitan areas, home prices are out of reach for first-time buyers, and insurance and property taxes are rising alongside mortgage costs. Housing costs are the single largest expense for most households, yet they are treated as background noise in inflation debates rather than the centerpiece of economic distress.
Health care is another quiet driver of the cost-of-living crisis. Premiums, deductibles, co-pays, and uncovered services continue to rise. Medical debt remains a leading cause of financial instability. When people delay care or ration medication, it doesn’t show up as inflation — but it shows up in stress, sickness, and shortened lives.
Then there is insurance — home, auto, and health. Premiums have surged, particularly in states facing climate-related disasters and lax regulation. These costs are mandatory, not discretionary, yet they are rarely framed as part of the affordability crisis.
Utilities tell a similar story. Energy costs fluctuate, but electricity, gas, and water bills consume a growing share of income for low- and moderate-income households. Shutoffs are real. So is the choice between heat and groceries.
Food prices may no longer be rising at pandemic rates, but grocery bills remain high, and SNAP benefits have been reduced from pandemic levels. For families living paycheck to paycheck, food insecurity doesn’t recede just because inflation statistics improve.
What we are witnessing is not an inflation crisis but a cost-of-living crisis without inflation — a condition in which prices remain too high relative to wages, public supports are inadequate, and policymakers declare victory too soon.
This matters politically and morally. When leaders insist the problem is solved while people feel squeezed, trust erodes. People conclude — often correctly — that the economy works for someone else. That disillusionment fuels cynicism, disengagement, and anger, all of which are easily exploited.
It also matters racially. Black and Latino households, renters, seniors, people with disabilities, and women — especially single mothers — are disproportionately harmed by high housing and health costs. Declaring the crisis over while these groups struggle is a form of policy gaslighting.
The solution is not to deny progress where it exists, but to name the unfinished work honestly. We need policies that address affordability directly: expanded housing supply and rental assistance, stronger tenant protections, universal health coverage, utility regulation, and income supports that rise with real living costs, not abstract price indices.
We should also be more precise in our language. Inflation is a technical term. Affordability is a moral one. When policymakers conflate the two, they obscure responsibility.
The economy is not a scoreboard — it is a system that should allow people to live with dignity. Until the cost of living aligns with what people earn and what society claims to value, the crisis is not over, no matter what the charts say.
Malveaux, a former college president, is an economist, author and commentator based in Washington, D.C.