Rustbelt Rehabilitation
The opioid crisis is one that plagues our communities, our people, and our policies across the country. Those who suffer have a glaring tendency to feel ostracized by the public—whether on the inside of a cell or out on the streets. While these individuals may be shunned through our laws and the structure of society, they find solace within one another. Incredible life-changing programs, such as Narcotics Anonymous, rehab facilities, and halfway houses help addicts by granting them a sense of community and giving them a purpose through a clear head and service to others. One community that has seen an increasing demand for these programs is the Rustbelt of America, a Midwest region spanning from southern Michigan all the way to mid-Pennsylvania. Due to the departure of the manufacturing sector from its Midwest roots overseas, there have been massive amounts of job loss and the strenuous physical labor associated with these jobs has ravaged communities in the Rustbelt. This crisis has created a demand for outreach programs and a crucial sense of belonging for those with the disease of addiction. Through these fellowships and programs, those in the Rustbelt can find a solution to the problem of an absence of community that they’ve faced since the inception of their disease.
One of the leading causes of the opioid crisis within this region is the aforementioned exodus of the American manufacturing sector. This region was once home to massive production factories from the likes of Ford and Chevrolet; not to mention bustling coal and steel plants. By the early 1980s, companies with their manufacturing branches in the Great Lakes region began looking towards cheaper Asian labor markets, such as China and Vietnam. Over the next several decades, plant after plant closed, leaving hundreds of thousands of jobless and rusty assembly lines in their wake (hence the name ‘Rust Belt’). With no places to work and incomes slashed, these towns that were once thriving became desolate or even abandoned by the turn of the century. That being said, communities with high rates of unemployment and low average incomes typically see an uptick in crime—most significantly, drug use. Since 2000, the rate of accidental overdoses in the Rustbelt state of Ohio has increased six times. Due to the dramatic downward spike in prosperous jobs, a sense of longing is felt in the Rustbelt. The unemployed growing majority of these towns have shifted their focus from feeling low and without a purpose to a matter of finding the next high: opioids.
Due to the greed of massive pharmaceutical conglomerates, opioids—such as OxyContin and Vicodin—were heavily pushed to be prescribed by pharmacists across the nation, especially in the Midwest.
Another factor contributing to this crisis is the physical labor associated with these jobs. Manufacturing occupations have a very high risk of chronic pain. Those experiencing chronic pain within the sector reach a crossroads: find a less strenuous job or cope with the pain to make work manageable. Individuals who sought to manage their pain were typically prescribed opioids to continue their careers. Throughout this period, opioids were prescribed freely and, in many cases, overprescribed to patients either in amount, longevity of usage, or dosage. Due to the greed of massive pharmaceutical conglomerates, opioids—such as OxyContin and Vicodin—were heavily pushed to be prescribed by pharmacists across the nation, especially in the Midwest. This practice continued until the late 2000s where some parts of the Rustbelt such as West Virginia and Kentucky saw prescription rates as high as 60% above the national average. As tolerance built over years and years of work, the risk of these hardworking people transitioning to heroin or becoming dependent on their prescriptions increased exponentially. The combination of chronic pain, massive job loss, and opioid over-prescription became a recipe for disaster in these previously industrious communities of the Rustbelt.
In a region that essentially incubated opioid use from the early 80s onwards, lawmakers and police responded in the only way they knew: hardline policy. These communities wanted heroin and other drugs out, and they expected to accomplish this by arresting those who used, transported, or sold these drugs. Those sick and suffering from the disease of addiction were placed in a cell with a felony sentence instead of actually being treated. These supposed “solutions” only augmented their addictions; being stamped as a felon almost guaranteed addicts would be unable to live in the outside world. Having a felony in the U.S. prevents you from voting and forces you to disclose that information on any job application, virtually eliminating any chance of employment. With no other option, these non-violent drug offenders go back to the only life they can live: through the sale or use of drugs. It is no wonder why those suffering feel ostracized by the public
In a society that shuns addicts instead of accepting and assisting them, we create an absence of community—a problem that all Rustbelt addicts have faced since the departure of the manufacturing sector.
Another way that these addicts feel ostracized is in the way our society is structured. People are educated that all drugs are bad, making anyone who uses them a bad person. A majority of Americans view drug use and addiction as a defect of character. People fail to realize that addiction is a chronic disease; no one chooses or wants to use heroin on a daily basis. This distorted way of thinking is what regularly pushes addicts away. Instead of treating these people as if they’re morally flawed, we need to treat them as they actually are—sick and suffering. In a society that shuns addicts instead of accepting and assisting them, we create an absence of community—a problem that all Rustbelt addicts have faced since the departure of the manufacturing sector.
Through these programs, addicts can find the structure and community they so desperately need with those they relate to most—fellow addicts.
With abandoned towns, no meaningful jobs, and a society whose laws and people shun the sick, Rustbelt addicts regularly feel as if they have nowhere to go and no one to talk to. However, this is far from the case; addicts can gather together to give each other support and purpose in a variety of methods. For example, one of these methods, comparable to the House of Evangelista and House of Abundance in FX’s Pose, is the use of halfway houses in recovering addict communities. Much like how these houses in Pose grant our LGBTQ characters a place of structure and support, halfway houses offer the same to recovering addicts through assigned community service and the opportunity to live with those who’ve been through similar experiences. Another component of halfway houses is mandatory attendance to Narcotics Anonymous meetings—local, regular gatherings of recovering addicts where personal experiences, support, and fellowship are shared. Through these programs, addicts can find the structure and community they so desperately need with those they relate to most—fellow addicts.
Having lived in the Rustbelt state of Ohio for over 18 years, I understand how much this crisis has plagued the state and (although not nearly as severe as rural areas) the communities that surround me. My state is home to the second-highest rate of overdose deaths in the country. My family is one that has a history with the disease of addiction, and I’ve heard far too many stories of members or former members of my community who have died from overdoses. Personally, I’ve had two close friends go through inpatient rehab facilities throughout my high school career. It’s an issue that strikes my community, my fellow students, and most of all, myself. From 2008-2010, my hometown’s high school garnered the label ‘Heroin High’ due to a series of student heroin busts within the school and in surrounding homes. While these facts may sound horrific, my hometown, as well as many others, have taken steps towards combating this consuming plague. Since the days of ‘Heroin High,’ my local Westlake High School has implemented youth outreach programs, a school addiction counselor, and regular updates on resources to find help if need be. From my home alone, there are at least five different Narcotics Anonymous meetings all within driving distance.
We’ve heard the causes, the struggles, and the possible solutions on local and institutional levels, but all these factors pose a burning question—what can we, as Americans, do on a national level to combat the opioid crisis? How can we, as one large communal nation, gather around this public health struggle? Since the drug war began in the early 70s, we’ve spent billions trying to stop the use of opioids and other substances by shunning the very people who are suffering and exiling them from society. The result of this is clear today—the opioid crisis, as well as addiction as a whole, has seen nothing but an increase in devastation regardless of any hard-on-drugs policy. To me, I see an answer in the way we approach this disease all addicts face. Instead of throwing them in a cell, what if we helped them instead? Through psychiatric treatment, reintegration into society, and clean facilities to wean off these substances, maybe we as a nation can finally see a change. Instead of an endless cycle of jails, institutions, and overdose death, as a nation, we need to welcome Rustbelt addicts with what they so desperately need—open arms and a pathway to treatment.
Rustbelt addicts may feel like a forgotten part of American society, but for the recovering members of these regions, it’s a glaring reality of life. Those affected by this crisis feel alone—their industries have fled, and their society pushes them away through its laws and people. However, this doesn’t stop addicts from banding together to show support. Through Narcotics Anonymous fellowships, halfway houses, and many other forms of recovery, many addicts have found the light in the dark tunnel of addiction. Recovery has provided these lost souls with a new path in life, without the unending cycle of drug use. While their community may be far from the place they knew as home before it was labeled the Rustbelt, members of these regions have found a new way to feel at home—through each other.
By Grady Schlott
Illustrations done in collaboration with the New Media Artspace at Baruch College. The New Media Artspace is a teaching exhibition space in the Department of Fine and Performing Arts at Baruch College, CUNY. Housed in the Newman Library, the New Media Artspace showcases curated experimental media and interdisciplinary artworks by international artists, students, alumni, and faculty. Special thanks to docent Jose Daniel Benitez for creating artwork for this piece.
Check the New Media Artspace out at http://www.newmediartspace.info/