Opinion By: A former Iowan
Iowa doesn’t take kindly to cruelty. It’s a state that buries its dead with dignity, tends to its elders with grit and grace, and raises its children to mean what they say. So when Senator Joni Ernst smirked into a town hall microphone and shrugged off fears over Medicaid cuts by saying, "Well, we all are going to die," the collective gasp from Parkersburg echoed far beyond the walls of that gymnasium.
It was more than a gaffe. It was a betrayal. A flash of gallows humor that landed like a slap in the face to the 767,000 Iowans who rely on Medicaid, and to the nurses, caregivers, parents, and aging farmers who know that, yes, death comes for all of us—but politics decides who dies sooner, poorer, and more alone.
Ernst built her political brand on hog-castrating toughness and no-nonsense Iowan charm. But somewhere along the way, that persona curdled into something colder, snarkier, and out-of-touch. Her latest stunt? A sarcastic Instagram video filmed in a graveyard, where she sniped, "I assumed everyone understood we’ll all perish from Earth. My apologies. Thank goodness I didn’t mention the Tooth Fairy too."
That’s not just bad optics. That’s politically suicidal in a state known for its "Iowa Nice" decency. It’s the kind of misstep that turns swing voters into opponents, and loyal backers into skeptics. I’m hearing even some Fox-leaning rural voters are asking: wtf happened to Joni?
The context behind her callous comment is even worse than the quote itself. Ernst was defending her support for a Republican bill that slashes Medicaid by $700 billion over a decade, a bill loaded with poison pills: mandatory 80-hour work requirements for low-income adults, quarterly re-verification hoops that would trip up honest families, and financial punishments for states that dare to cover undocumented children.
This is a bureaucratic bloodletting. No other way to say it.
The nonpartisan Congressional Budget Office estimates the changes could kick between 7.6 to 10 million Americans off Medicaid. In Iowa, that translates to:
Rural hospitals on the brink of bankruptcy.
Nursing homes unable to stay open.
Families rationing insulin and skipping checkups.
And when constituents told her as much, Ernst told them to take it up with Jesus. Yikes. She’s completely out of touch.
Ernst may still try to laugh this off, but her political footing is slipping fast:
Des Moines’ suburbs are swinging blue.
The over-65 demographic, deeply reliant on Medicaid, is growing and angry.
Her fundraising was already slumping, even before the scandal, and have since taken a bigger dip
And credible challengers are circling daily. Iowa doesn’t want a senator who trolls grieving families from a cemetery. It wants someone who fights for dignity—in life and death. Someone who remembers that politics is about people, communities, the vulnerable among us, not easy punchlines.
Ernst once claimed to speak for the heartland. But after this Medicaid debacle, the heartland is speaking back. And it’s saying: Enough with the BS.
She was supposed to stand up for Iowa. Instead, she mocked its pain.
2026 might be her reckoning. Because Iowa doesn’t forget.