The Legacy of a Lie: Why Reagan Was the Worst Modern President
My parents always said it quietly… Ronald Reagan was racist.
And I remember thinking, why are we whispering?
It didn’t push me to do a deep dive at the time. I was a kid. But I always remembered it. And it wasn’t until Donald Trump’s presidency that I started thinking more seriously about how much a president really shapes the country long after they’re gone.
Like—I knew it intellectually. I’m not new here. Policies matter. Laws matter. Administrations make real decisions that have long-term consequences. But then there are those presidents who don’t just change policy… they change culture. They shift the narrative. They leave fingerprints on entire generations. And it takes decades—if ever—to undo the damage.
That’s where Reagan comes in for me.
Now before anybody gets too emotional, I want to be clear: I have friends I love dearly who admire Reagan. I know he’s held up as a conservative icon, a symbol of strength, a great communicator. I get it. I really do.
But once I started reading—really reading—the speeches, the laws, the history… once I looked at what his administration actually did, especially to Black communities, to poor communities, to the image of who deserves help in this country… I couldn’t unsee it.
So here it is: In my opinion, Ronald Reagan was the worst and most damaging president of the modern era.
And I think it’s time we talk about it out loud. No more whispers.
The Culture War President
Now I know a lot of people love Ronald Reagan. He wasn’t just a president—he was a brand. A Hollywood actor turned California governor turned Commander-in-Chief. He embodied a rugged, polished, ultra-masculine version of the American dream. He stood behind podiums telling us all, “You can be like me. Just work hard.”
But like so many things from his era, that promise was a facade.
A costume.
A carefully scripted illusion of equal opportunity.
Because the truth is—it wasn’t true for most Americans. And what Reagan sold wasn’t hope. It was nostalgia. The kind of nostalgia that only works for certain people.
You can trace this back to something Nixon said:“If you can convince the lowest white man he’s better than the best colored man, he won’t notice you’re picking his pocket.”
Reagan picked up that baton and ran with it—all the way to the White House.
He didn’t just pass laws that disproportionately harmed Black, Brown, and poor people—he changed the culture. He gave a generation of Americans permission to say, “I’m not racist. I just think people should work harder.” He made that narrative feel palatable. Presidential, even.
And the damage didn’t end in the ’80s. It shaped how a generation of Boomers thought about poverty, crime, race, education, and morality. And many of them—who were adults during one of the most prosperous economic times in U.S. history—wrongly credited that success to Reagan himself.
But that prosperity? It was built on the backs of New Deal policies, post-war labor protections, and civil rights legislation passed before Reagan took office. He didn’t build the middle class. He choked it—just as Black and Brown communities were finally starting to access it.
Reagan hit the brakes. Hard. As if to say: “We didn’t build all this for you.”
In the next few paragraphs, I’m going to break down exactly how Ronald Reagan used cultural resentment to fuel political power—just 15 years after the Civil Rights Act—and gave millions of Americans angry about desegregation a new political home.
The Welfare Queen
We’ve all seen her: the Black mom with multiple baby daddies, loads of kids, living off the government while hardworking “real” Americans suffer. That caricature—the welfare queen—didn’t come from real life. It came straight from Ronald Reagan’s campaign trail. In 1976, he spun a vivid tale about a “Chicago woman” who pulled off massive welfare fraud—80 names, 30 addresses, 12 Social Security cards—and the story stuck. That scammer was Linda Taylor: a genuine con artist, but a rare one. Not the face of poverty. Reagan weaponized her to make poverty look like a character flaw, and it exploded into policy and cultural poison.
The irony? White Americans make up the largest share of welfare recipients—43%, compared to 23% for Black families and 26% for Hispanic families. But still, the public face of welfare became a Black woman. After Reagan’s carefully crafted narrative took hold, studies show that poor white voters—even those in desperate need of healthcare and basic support—began voting against their own interests. Why? Because they didn’t want another "welfare queen" like Linda Taylor showing up in their neighborhood.
Here’s the truth: Black moms on welfare don’t stay there. Say it louder for the people in the back—Black moms on welfare don’t stay there. A long-term study found that 64% of Black women never or rarely relied on welfare, and only about 10% remained long-term recipients. They weren’t chasing luxury cars—they were chasing stability, safety, and a future for their children. But Reagan shattered any public empathy for that journey. Instead, he built policies that punished them for even needing help in the first place.
So what does that mean for 2025? It means millions of poor white Americans are still blocking policies—like healthcare access, childcare credits, or food security—that could literally save their lives, just to make sure a mythical “welfare queen” doesn’t benefit. That’s not just political difference. That’s political self-harm. And it traces straight back to Reagan’s legacy.
The War on Drugs: Two Stories, Two Americas
Isn't it ironic that today, as addiction ravages young white communities, we’re calling it a crisis, pouring resources into mental health care, overdose prevention, and supportive services? But when Black and Brown communities were devastated by crack in the '80s and '90s, the message was totally different: we needed a war, not compassion—a law-and-order crackdown, not help.
Reagan officially kicked off the War on Drugs in 1982, painting drug use as a national security threat. But things got personal—and ugly—when the Anti‑Drug Abuse Act of 1986 came down with a crushing 100:1 sentencing disparity: 5 grams of crack led to a 5-year mandatory minimum, while it took a whopping 500 grams of powder cocaine—usually used by white people—to trigger the same time.
Here’s the part no one talks about: white people are just as likely to use crack as Black people, but the systems of enforcement only targeted Black users. In 1994, the Sentencing Commission reported that around 79% of crack offenders were Black, while only 10% were white, even though usage was nearly equal.
That racialized response created mass incarceration, tore apart families, and militarized public health. And let’s not gloss over this: behind the scenes, the same administration was funding the Contras in Nicaragua—through CIA involvement with cocaine traffickers—then coming home and locking up the very communities ruined by that cocaine.
Fast forward to 2025: when addiction finally looks like white America, we cry “public health emergency.” But toxic punishment is still the default script for Black and Brown communities. That’s not empathy. That’s hypocrisy. And it’s a direct byproduct of Reagan’s rules—his cultural war codified in law.
Attacks on Public Education & “Government Overreach”
The idea that education is the enemy in America didn’t just appear out of nowhere—it was planted and nurtured during Reagan’s presidency. His rhetoric about dismantling the Department of Education and pushing “local control” set the tone for decades of distrust in public schools. We’ve never fully recovered. What began as a campaign talking point became a full-blown political identity.
Let’s break this down: the U.S. education system is mostly state-run, which is why your experience in school can vary wildly depending on where you live. Some states offer school vouchers and strict curriculum restrictions, while others reject vouchers and protect inclusive, federally supported programs. That’s why we have school boards. That’s why growing up in Texas, I learned more about Texas pride than I ever did about the structure of the federal government or my constitutional rights. There’s even data showing that textbook companies print different versions of history books depending on the state—one for schools in the South, and another for California or New York.
But here’s the issue: federal programs like Title I, Head Start, and IDEA exist to create baseline support for low-income and marginalized communities—programs meant to help level the playing field. When Republicans call this “government overreach,” what they’re really doing is undermining the few national programs that ensure a child in Mississippi has a shot at the same quality of education as a child in Minnesota. The push to “give education back to the states” often means giving it back to inequality, back to systems that reinforce racial and economic divides.
Meanwhile, we’re constantly told to admire places like Finland, where the public education system is world-class. But we rarely talk about why it works: Finland believes in families. They support parents, fund maternal health care, and treat education as a human right—not a luxury. They invest in teachers like we invest in tech CEOs. And their outcomes speak for themselves.
Contrast that with today’s far-right messaging in America: education is now framed as liberal indoctrination, and being “too educated” is seen as suspicious. Yet, ironically, the same politicians pushing that narrative send their kids to elite private schools, hire private tutors, and hold Ivy League degrees themselves. They’ve built a two-tiered system—one where public schools are intentionally underfunded, while private schools (often backed by wealthy investors and private equity groups) profit from the chaos. In fact, foreign investors, including China, hold large stakes in America’s private education sector.
So when they say school vouchers are about “choice,” what they really mean is profit. And when they say the government is “overreaching,” they’re trying to dismantle the very programs that protect children from being left behind.
The AIDS Epidemic Silence
It’s one word: abomination. Because for years, folks have pulled out their Bibles, pointed to Leviticus, and used it to shame LGBTQ+ people—saying their existence, their love, is an abomination. But here’s the truth they’re not telling you: that’s not what the original Hebrew said.
The word used in Leviticus is toʿevah—a term that meant something ritually unclean or culturally taboo. Think eating shrimp. Wearing mixed fabrics. Things that were about ceremonial purity, not morality. It never meant “evil” the way that word abomination hits today.
So where did the shift happen? 1611. The King James Bible. Toʿevah got translated as “abomination,” and just like that, a mistranslation became a weapon. And the irony? King James himself was believed to be in romantic relationships with men—including George Villiers, who he wrote letters to calling him “my sweet child and wife.” So the same man whose name is on that Bible—the one used to condemn gay people for centuries—might’ve been queer himself. Make it make sense.
This isn’t just a translation issue. It’s a cultural one. Because that twisting of language helped justify shame, silence, and stigma far beyond the church pews. And when the AIDS crisis hit in the 1980s, that same mindset showed up in the White House.
Ronald Reagan said nothing. While thousands of Americans—mostly gay men—were getting sick and dying, the president stayed silent. Not a single public statement until 1987. By then, more than 20,000 lives were gone. His administration slashed public health funding and treated AIDS like a moral punishment instead of the medical emergency it was. That silence? It wasn’t neutral. It was deliberate. And it was deadly.
This is why language matters. Why history matters. And why we have to talk about how religion and politics have been used to dehumanize queer people for generations. Because if we don’t, the lies just keep getting louder.
States’ Rights and the Southern Strategy
When Reagan stood on that stage in Philadelphia, Mississippi in 1980 and said, “I believe in states’ rights,” he wasn’t talking about policy—he was invoking a legacy of coded language and racist dog whistles. Because in America, states’ rights has never really meant freedom for all. It’s been a smokescreen used to justify slavery, segregation, and the refusal to protect Black lives. Southern states have clung to the idea that the Confederate flag represents “heritage, not hate,” but be for real - that’s a lie. As a Black girl who grew up in Texas, I saw Confederate flags all over my high school parking lot. I was told it was about Southern pride—not slavery. But when you zoom out, the truth is plain: the Civil War was about slavery. The South’s economy was built on free labor and global trade in cotton and tobacco. It was powerful—and threatening. The North, on the other hand, was industrializing fast and knew that if they could break the South’s dependence on slavery, they could break the South’s dominance. So yes, abolitionists existed and their moral clarity mattered—but economics was a huge part of the equation too.
The South claimed they just wanted the freedom to “do business their way.” And what was their real business—that business was people. If they had to pay wages, profits would plummet and power would shift. So when they shouted “states’ rights,” what they meant was the right to own human beings. And the fact that so many of us were taught otherwise? That’s not a mistake—it’s indoctrination. From kindergarten through high school, we are fed a whitewashed version of history told through the lens of the victors. We learn about white generals and white presidents, while every other group is shoved into one themed month a year with a sanitized version of their contributions. There were Indigenous people here long before colonizers arrived. There were documented Black people in America before the slave trade. And yet we’re rarely taught their names. Ask yourself this: Can you name five Black inventors? Two Black Supreme Court justices? One famous Chinese American? And why do we label everyone else with a hyphen—African American, Asian American, Latino American—while white people just get to be American? Meanwhile, they’re the first ones in line for 23andMe to trace their roots back to Europe. Wouldn’t that make them European American? The language, the lies, the erasure—it’s all part of the same strategy.
Reaganomics
Before Reaganomics, there was a period in American history—roughly from the 1940s through the early 1970s—where the economy was far from perfect, but more people had a shot. This was the era of the New Deal, the G.I. Bill, strong labor unions, and massive federal investment in infrastructure, education, and housing (Although Black Americans and other people of color were systematically excluded from many of these benefits). Still, it was a time when the middle class was growing, wages were rising with productivity, and one income could often support an entire household. CEOs made about 20 times what their workers made. The American Dream felt possible—at least for white Americans.
Then came the 1980s. Reagan gets elected and introduces trickle-down economics as the solution to inflation and recession. But what it really was? A massive transfer of wealth upward. Taxes were slashed for the rich and corporations. Deregulation exploded. Social programs were gutted. And the logic was: if the rich thrive, we all thrive. Except… we didn’t. Instead, wealth concentrated at the top, and the gap between rich and poor started to stretch into a canyon. CEOs went from making 20 times the average worker's salary to hundreds of times more. Wages flatlined. Entire industries were outsourced. Unions were weakened. And public trust in government crumbled as the safety nets people relied on got ripped apart.
By the 1990s, we were living in the world Reagan built. The economy was growing—but it was growing for the already wealthy. The average American was working more hours, often at multiple jobs, just to stay afloat. The cost of housing, college, and healthcare skyrocketed. Meanwhile, both political parties bought into the lie that deregulation and corporate growth were the same as prosperity. We ended up with an America where billionaires exist—but millions live paycheck to paycheck. Where wealth is hoarded, poverty is criminalized, and the phrase “work hard and you’ll succeed” feels more like gaslighting than guidance.
So what was the effect of trickle-down economics? It gutted the middle class, deepened racial and economic inequality, and handed our future over to corporate America. And we’re still climbing out of that hole. The worst part? They told us it was all for our benefit.
It’s 2025, and we’re still living in the fallout. The wealth gap between the richest and everyone else isn’t just wide—it’s obscene. The top 1% of Americans now own more wealth than the entire middle class combined. Billionaires are flying to space while teachers are crowdfunding school supplies and families are choosing between rent and groceries. Wages haven’t kept up with inflation, housing is unaffordable in almost every major city, and the idea of saving for anything—retirement, emergencies, your kids’ education—feels like a fantasy for most working people. This didn’t happen overnight. It’s the result of decades of policies that prioritized the ultra-rich, hollowed out social services, and treated poverty like a personal failure instead of a systemic issue. Trickle-down didn’t lift all boats. It sank most of them—and built yachts for the few. And now we’re watching an entire generation saddled with debt, priced out of homeownership, and told they just need to hustle harder. But we know better. The system wasn’t built to trickle down. It was built to stay up.
The 8 Policies
I could’ve stopped with just my opinion—offering hypotheticals about how Reagan fueled today’s culture wars. But it wasn’t just his rhetoric that caused lasting damage. It was the policies he actually passed. Yes, we've had several presidents since then, and some of those laws have been amended or repealed. But once a policy becomes a catalyst, the seed is planted. And unless someone fully challenges and uproots it, it takes root—embedding itself deeply in the Republican political mindset. So below, I’m listing the actual policies, who they targeted, their impact, how they changed lives, and where they stand today. No opinions—just facts.
1. Economic Recovery Tax Act (ERTA) of 1981
Target: High-income individuals and corporations—slashed the top marginal income tax rate from 70 % to 50 %.
Impact: Federal revenue dropped sharply, enabling defense spending increases and domestic cuts. The wealthiest benefited the most.
How it changed lives: While corporate profits soared, public services like education and housing suffered. Everyday Americans faced stagnant wages, rising inequality, and declining trust in government systems to provide economic security.
Status: Expired but much of its structure remains through later tax policies.
2. Tax Equity and Fiscal Responsibility Act (TEFRA) of 1982
Target: Corporate tax shelters and high earners—while preserving most individual cuts from ERTA.
Impact: Slowed the deficit slightly but left structural inequality untouched.
How it changed lives: TEFRA offered only a temporary fiscal fix. It failed to restore lost safety nets, and many communities continued to feel the pressure of reduced public investment.
Status: Repealed in part by the Bipartisan Budget Act of 2015, though its influence persists.
3. Tax Reform Act of 1986
Target: All taxpayers—reduced brackets and closed loopholes, treating capital gains and ordinary income equally.
Impact: Simplified the code but rewarded wealth-holders, not wage earners.
How it changed lives: Middle-class families lost deductions they relied on, while those with investment income benefited. Over time, it helped entrench a system where wealth grows faster than wages.
Status: Still influences tax code structure, though modified by later legislation.
4. Anti-Drug Abuse Act of 1986
Target: Black communities via harsh sentencing for crack vs. powder cocaine.
Impact: Codified mandatory minimums that fueled mass incarceration.
How it changed lives: Entire communities—especially Black neighborhoods—were destabilized. Families were torn apart, and the justice system became a source of fear instead of fairness.
Status: Still in effect but modified by the Fair Sentencing Act of 2010.
5. Immigration Reform and Control Act (IRCA) of 1986
Target: Undocumented immigrants—penalized employers but provided amnesty to some.
Impact: Legalized 3 million immigrants while creating more fear and informality in the labor market.
How it changed lives: For many, it provided a path to citizenship. But for others, it entrenched labor insecurity and made exploitation easier, especially in agriculture and service industries.
Status: Still active and foundational to current immigration enforcement.
6. Omnibus Budget Reconciliation Acts (1981–1984)
Target: Low-income Americans using public programs like Medicaid and food stamps.
Impact: Cut $140+ billion in federal domestic spending, including severe reductions to food and energy assistance.
How it changed lives: Families who depended on safety nets saw their quality of life diminish. Many fell into deeper poverty, and the mental health system’s collapse pushed vulnerable people onto the streets.
Status: Many cuts were never fully reversed and continue to affect funding baselines today.
7. Social Security Amendments of 1983
Target: Future retirees—gradually raised the full retirement age and increased payroll taxes.
Impact: Stabilized Social Security but placed greater long-term burdens on workers.
How it changed lives: People had to work longer to access full benefits, affecting low-income and manual laborers the most. Today, more seniors are delaying retirement or working part-time to make ends meet.
Status: Still fully in force and shaping current retirement expectations.
8. Executive Order 12287 (Oil Deregulation)
Target: Petroleum pricing controls—ended federal regulations overnight.
Impact: Prices rose temporarily; market volatility increased. Environmental and labor protections weakened.
How it changed lives: Consumers experienced energy price spikes, and environmental oversight was reduced. This deregulation model fueled future policies that prioritized profit over people and planet.
Status: Controls remain lifted; deregulation mindset continues in energy and environmental policy.
What about Trump?
I’m sure when you first read this, you were thinking, “Reagan? The worst president? We’re literally living through Trump right now.” And you’re not wrong—we’re watching a man openly try to dismantle democracy. We’re witnessing a hostile takeover dressed up as patriotism. But here’s the thing: Reagan walked so Trump could fly.
Reagan wasn’t just a president—he was a cultural architect. He embedded ideologies so deeply into American life that we stopped questioning them. He gave future leaders like Trump the playbook. Without Reagan’s groundwork—weaponizing racism through coded language, gutting social programs under the guise of “freedom,” and preaching trickle-down lies—Trump wouldn’t have had the script to rouse a base so effectively. And while Trump may not be the intellectual mastermind, don’t be fooled. He’s surrounded by people who study this, who understand the psychological warfare of propaganda, nostalgia, and fear. People who know how to sell power, wealth, and control under the illusion of patriotism.
This has never been about the greater good. It’s about securing prosperity for a select few—families and legacies built on domination, not democracy. Everyday people are being used as pawns and don’t even realize they’re voting against their own survival. We’re in a battle for democracy right now. And if you ask me how we got here—how we ended up in this mess—it didn’t start with Trump. It started with Reagan.
Sources: Ronald Reagan Presidential Library & Museum | World Bank Group | IRS | Federal Reserve History | AXIOS | Simon Law Group | The Leadership Conference on Civil nd Human Rights | The Sentencing Project | LA Times | Vogue | Time | The Miller Center | Congress.GOV | Macrotrends | International Inequalities Institute | NYTIMES | Tax Foundation | National Library of Medicine
