"I'd rather have a real South Dakotan who has lived in this state and made her living here instead of someone with a fancy East Coast law degree any day"
About this Quote
Noem’s line isn’t really about résumes; it’s about who gets to count as “one of us.” By pitting “a real South Dakotan” against “a fancy East Coast law degree,” she compresses a whole worldview into a simple binary: rootedness versus credentialism, community loyalty versus outsider ambition. It’s a classic populist move, and it works because it feels like common sense even as it smuggles in a hierarchy of belonging.
The phrase “real South Dakotan” does heavy cultural labor. “Real” implies there are counterfeit versions: people who live there but don’t embody the right story, accent, class markers, or political instincts. “Has lived in this state and made her living here” signals more than geography; it’s a moral credential. Work becomes a proxy for character, and local labor becomes a kind of civic purity test.
Then comes the deft villain: the “fancy East Coast law degree.” “Fancy” turns education into affectation, suggesting polish without practicality, expertise without wisdom. “East Coast” is shorthand for elite networks, coastal condescension, and national power that looks down on the interior. Noem isn’t rejecting law so much as framing professional achievement as suspiciously imported, a sign you’ve been shaped by the wrong people.
Context matters: this rhetoric thrives in intraparty fights and campaigns where “outsider” is a stigma and governing competence can be recast as cultural betrayal. It’s a line designed to make voters feel protective of their own, and to make the opponent defend their biography instead of their ideas.
The phrase “real South Dakotan” does heavy cultural labor. “Real” implies there are counterfeit versions: people who live there but don’t embody the right story, accent, class markers, or political instincts. “Has lived in this state and made her living here” signals more than geography; it’s a moral credential. Work becomes a proxy for character, and local labor becomes a kind of civic purity test.
Then comes the deft villain: the “fancy East Coast law degree.” “Fancy” turns education into affectation, suggesting polish without practicality, expertise without wisdom. “East Coast” is shorthand for elite networks, coastal condescension, and national power that looks down on the interior. Noem isn’t rejecting law so much as framing professional achievement as suspiciously imported, a sign you’ve been shaped by the wrong people.
Context matters: this rhetoric thrives in intraparty fights and campaigns where “outsider” is a stigma and governing competence can be recast as cultural betrayal. It’s a line designed to make voters feel protective of their own, and to make the opponent defend their biography instead of their ideas.
Quote Details
| Topic | Pride |
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