We’re all living in our own version of reality, and money is one of the clearest places where that shows up.
Not long ago I got a thoughtful, frustrated letter from a retiree asking a simple question that turns out to be anything but: how much do you need to be considered rich in America?
“If you have $4 million in retirement and take out 4% a year, you are hardly rich. You are middle class,” he wrote. “Remember taxes, insurance, the high cost of food, health insurance?”
He wasn’t being dramatic. Social Security increases, he argued, aren’t matching real-life inflation. Even with a paid-off home and no debt, he said his maintenance costs, taxes, and insurance have doubled over the last four years. Deductions have shrunk. Bills haven’t. So what, exactly, counts as “rich”?
That question echoes across the country. People who are struggling to cover rent and groceries feel shut out of a system that promises stability, while people who have done everything right still feel like they’re sliding backward. Two forces are colliding: real economic inequality, and the quieter, relentless anxiety that no amount will ever feel like enough.
Perspective helps, but it doesn’t erase the worry. The American dream has always come with fine print. And “rich” isn’t only a number — it’s also a lifestyle you can comfortably sustain. Not being able to buy a ticket to space doesn’t make you poor. It just means some luxuries stay out of reach.
What makes this so slippery is that wealth is partly comparative. If your closest circle includes Silicon Valley multimillionaires, or if your neighbor hit it big on Nvidia or Palantir, your own success can start to feel strangely small. The bar moves because the view around you changes.
Surveys show that Americans feel that shift. As a group, people say it takes $839,000 to be “financially comfortable,” according to Charles Schwab’s 2025 Modern Wealth Survey. That’s higher than last year’s $778,000, but lower than the $1 million figure many cited in 2023, when post-pandemic inflation was at its most unnerving. And for five straight years, Americans have put “wealthy” at roughly $2 million, give or take a few hundred thousand.
When asked why that number feels so high, respondents point to the same pressure points the retiree described: inflation, a shakier economy, and taxes. About 43% specifically blamed higher interest rates and the way they limit borrowing and chip away at future investment returns.
There’s another reality check, too. Even a U.S. household that feels merely “middle class” by local standards would look astonishingly rich in much of the developing world, where monthly wages can be a few hundred dollars. Many countries have minimum wages below $700 a month. Eurostat recently put several EU-candidate minimum wages around that range or lower, including North Macedonia (about $680), Turkey ($650), Bulgaria ($642), Albania ($475), and Moldova ($332).
Back in the U.S., definitions of class are murkier — not just income, but education, job stability, housing, vacations, and healthcare all shape the label. Still, This MarketWatch report offers a useful snapshot of how net worth sorts Americans into “wealth classes,” based on a breakdown by Bo Hanson, a financial planner and co-host of “The Money Guy Show.”
The middle class sits between $29,300 and $209,000 in net worth. The upper middle class spans $209,000 to $714,000. That’s a huge portion of the country, but also a huge internal gap — big enough to fuel constant “compare and despair.” Above that, the “upper class” reaches to about $2.1 million, and then the richest 10% of households rise far beyond even that category.
Meanwhile, around 25 million U.S. households earn under $30,000 a year, often described as working-class or blue-collar. Over the past five decades, the share of adults living in middle-class households has fallen to 51% in 2023 from 61% in the early 1970s. So even as everyone debates where “rich” begins, the center feels like it’s thinning out.
Inflation, especially in housing, is a major driver of this unease. The retiree who wrote me has no mortgage, yet he’s still feeling squeezed by property taxes, insurance, and upkeep. Nationally, the average home value is $363,932, roughly flat year over year, according to Zillow. But averages hide realities: California’s average is about $763,288. New York City’s is around $806,834.
Food prices have added another layer. Since 2020, grocery inflation has climbed roughly 25%. From eggs to rent, the steady rise in basics has turned everyday life into a stress test. It shapes not only budgets, but identity: whether people feel secure, stuck, or slipping.
That sense of being economically left behind had major political consequences. President Donald Trump regained the White House in 2024, winning both the electoral college and popular vote in a climate where millions felt priced out of stability. To many voters he embodied a gilded, aspirational figure — someone who, at least rhetorically, understood their anger.
Exit polls showed white working-class voters backing Trump over Kamala Harris 66% to 32%. He also increased his share among working-class Black and Latino voters compared with 2016. Still, as a Brookings Institution analysis noted, his coalition wasn’t uniform: he dominated among white evangelical working-class voters but lost white non-evangelical working-class voters to Harris.
Supporters saw a leader speaking directly to their frustration. Critics point out that rhetoric and results aren’t the same thing. Trump’s One Big Beautiful Bill Act, signed into law last July, is expected to deliver the largest tax benefits to the richest 10% and to middle-income households, according to the Congressional Budget Office. For the top 10%, average income (wages plus capital gains) is around $700,000. For the bottom 10%, it’s about $24,000.
The CBO estimates middle-class households could see gains of roughly $800 to $1,200 a year over the next decade. The top 10% may gain about $13,600 annually. The poorest 10% are projected to lose around $1,200 a year, partly due to spending cuts and tighter eligibility for SNAP food program and Medicaid.
Trump frequently frames his message around unfairness — especially tied to globalization and the media. At the other end of the spectrum, Zohran Mamdani, now the Democratic candidate for mayor of New York City, talks about inequality in moral terms. Last summer on NBC’s “Meet the Press,” he said, “I don’t think that we should have billionaires because, frankly, it is so much money in a moment of such inequality.”
Different targets, same emotional logic: “they” are doing better than “we” are, and it feels rigged. On a personal level, that’s the pain in the retiree’s letter. On a national level, it’s the mood powering movements on both left and right.
There is some comfort in the long view. Net worth tends to rise with age: Fidelity reports an average net worth of about $183,500 for people under 35, climbing to roughly $1.79 million for those 65 to 74. Careers usually peak later, and retirement accounts benefit from decades of compounding.
But comparisons don’t retire. If your neighbors all live similarly, one sudden upgrade — triple-glazed windows, a renovated kitchen, a flashy car — can ignite stories and suspicions. A sibling buying a villa in the south of France might trigger pride and envy at once. A neighbor doing the same can feel like a personal defeat.
Charles Schwab’s 2025 Modern Wealth Survey also shows why money alone can’t settle the question. When Americans define well-being, they weight relationships (83%), happiness (83%), free time (81%), health (79%), accomplishments (78%), and life experiences (78%) ahead of material possessions (63%) and money itself (49%). In other words, plenty of people with “enough” still don’t feel rich — and many who feel rich aren’t at the top of the Forbes list.
Wantonness and inequality are separate beasts. One is about structure; the other is about psychology. And until we grapple with both, the question “what counts as rich?” will keep producing a different answer in every neighborhood, every tax bracket, and every version of reality.
