Although the so-called “middle-class kill line” in the U.S. isn’t a reality yet, it could become one—unrestrained confrontation might very well lead to that outcome.
Once, I visited Whole Foods, a well-known American organic grocery chain. At the entrance stood a young man who appeared to be homeless—clean-cut, probably in his early 30s. He clearly wasn’t there to shop. He stood timidly by the door, wearing torn pants and ill-fitting clothes, with a canvas backpack bleached white from excessive washing.
After a while, a store employee brought him a large bag of what looked like soon-to-expire food. He accepted it, exchanged a few cheerful words with the staff, then left—not in a car like most shoppers, but on a small electric scooter, disappearing into the distance.
Later, I saw him again at the same store, going through the same routine. By then, I was certain: he was indeed homeless. Yet he was refined, shy, and dignified. The multiple bags of food he received were likely not just for himself—they were probably shared among fellow homeless individuals.
Could he be one of America’s “slaughtered” middle class? He certainly looked the part, though I couldn’t be sure. In fact, I even wondered whether this homeless lifestyle might actually be his own choice.
The phrase “middle-class kill line” has recently gained explosive traction online in China—a vivid, dramatic term used to depict and condemn the evils of American capitalism. It sounds thunderous and compelling.
Unfortunately, this narrative is riddled with flaws.
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Tracing the origin of the “kill line” concept, it first appeared in a Substack post by American asset analyst Michael Green. Using New Jersey suburbs—a wealthy U.S. state—as his sample, he calculated essential annual expenses for a family of four (food, housing, transportation, healthcare, and children’s education) and arrived at a baseline cost of $136,500.
This figure—rounded up to 140,000—hassincegoneviralacrossChinesesocialmediaasthe“Americanmiddle?classkillline.”TheideaisthatanyAmericanhouseholdearningbelow140,000 annually is just one medical emergency, car accident, or lawsuit away from ending up on the streets.
The second wave came from Bilibili influencer “Lao A,” also known as Squishy King, who imported Green’s analysis and combined it with his own past experiences in the U.S., painting a bleak picture of middle-class despair and solidifying the “kill line” concept in Chinese online discourse.
The third wave involved official and quasi-official Chinese media outlets amplifying these narratives, often accompanied by commentary on the miserable lives of America’s middle class. Observers Network (Guancha.cn) was particularly enthusiastic—not only reposting such content but also publishing extensive analyses and commentaries, cementing the popularity of the “kill line” theory.
The fourth wave came from academia—most notably from Fudan University political scholar Shen Yi, whose article titled “The ‘Kill Line’ Is Part of America—Its Other Name Is ‘Capitalism’” offered a scathing critique. His key argument:
“The internal logic of the ‘kill line’ is counter-cyclical. Once your finances are breached, mechanisms around you activate instantly. These mechanisms weren’t designed to rescue you or invest further in your recovery—they’re engineered to minimize capital loss by swiftly stripping away any salvageable assets from you.”
In other words, American society treats people like disposable batteries. Once a battery shows signs of failure, the system discards it without hesitation.
The gaming-inspired term “kill line” is brutal and direct. According to this logic, American middle-class families cannot afford even the slightest financial hiccup—otherwise, they’ll end up homeless. And the threshold? An annual income of $140,000.
Frankly, that number startled me. I know many Americans earning over $140,000—but far more who earn less. Most Chinese-Americans I know fall below that mark, yet I’ve rarely seen any of them sleeping on the streets.
According to Pew Research Center, the median U.S. household income in 2023 was 80,600.By2025,themiddle?classincomerangeacross100U.S.citieswasdefinedas50,000 to $150,000 (varying significantly between poorer and wealthier states). By this standard, over 80% of America’s middle class lives below the “kill line.” So why aren’t there millions more homeless?
Pew data shows that 51% of U.S. households—about 66.3 million out of 130 million—are middle class. Even if just 10% faced sudden hardship, that would mean 6.6 million families “killed.” Could American cities possibly accommodate that many homeless people?
02
Let’s look at the numbers.
According to the U.S. Census Bureau, the real median household income in 2023 was 80,610—up477,540 in 2022.
The Federal Reserve’s 2022 survey reported an average household net worth of about 1.06million—thoughthisincludesultra?wealthyoutliers.Themedianhouseholdnetworthwasapproximately193,000, a 37% increase from 2019.
How far is that from the “kill line”?
Core middle-class expenses—housing, healthcare, education, and transportation—are broadly similar worldwide. Data shows that rigid expenditures have risen from one-third of household budgets in the 1980s to half today. The other half goes toward discretionary spending: travel, entertainment, luxury goods, etc.
The biggest fear tied to the “kill line” is unemployment—loss of income forces complete recalibration. While there’s no specific unemployment rate for the middle class, the national unemployment rate in November 2025 stood at 4.6%, near historic lows.
But if someone does lose their job, is it truly game over?
First, unemployed individuals can apply for state unemployment benefits—amounts vary by state, with a maximum duration of 26 weeks. On average, Americans are unemployed for about 11 weeks, meaning they won’t be immediately “killed”—they have roughly six months of support.
What about healthcare, education, and housing during unemployment? Once income drops, households may qualify for Medicaid and other low-income assistance programs. Federal, state, and local governments offer student aid, loan forgiveness, and tuition waivers for disadvantaged students.
Housing is indeed a major issue—foreclosure means losing your home. But options exist: mortgage forbearance, emergency rental assistance, and other buffers (though these hurt credit scores). The best strategy is finding a new job within 26 weeks—which ties back to the low unemployment rate. Only those stuck in the 4.6% for longer than half a year face real risk of being “killed.”
If the “kill line” were truly catastrophic, the most telling evidence would be in the numbers of those actually “killed.” Pew’s 2024 data shows that over the past 50 years, the share of low-income Americans rose from 27% to 30%, while high-income households increased from 11% to 19%.
What does this mean? Some middle-class families did fall into poverty—but others climbed into affluence. Far from being universally “slaughtered,” many achieved upward mobility.
That’s the real truth behind America’s “middle-class kill line.” Ironic, isn’t it?
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Now let’s revisit Michael Green’s original argument—and its flaws.
Green never actually used the term “kill line.” His core point was this: using New Jersey as an example, he highlighted how America’s welfare system—and its definition of poverty—still relies on a formula established in 1963, which is utterly outdated.
His key insight: the official poverty line is based on food costs multiplied by three. Under this system, low-income households earning 20,000–30,000 annually receive substantial government support—tax credits, Medicaid, food stamps, housing subsidies—effectively boosting their disposable income to 60,000–70,000. Meanwhile, a middle-class family earning 70,000–80,000 receives little to no assistance and must cover all expenses out-of-pocket, potentially facing total costs approaching $140,000.
What he was really saying is this: from federal to state levels, the U.S. system “rewards idleness and punishes diligence.” His concern wasn’t about a “kill line”—it was about how hardworking middle-class families get no safety net, while welfare resources disproportionately flow to the very poor.
This reflects a broader collapse in America’s social distribution system.
Of course, his analysis has major flaws—like using data from New Jersey, the nation’s second-wealthiest state, to represent the entire middle class.
As the Financial Times noted, many middle-class Americans resonated deeply with Green’s piece, saying: “Maybe his math is off, but he understands our pain.”
Where’s the math wrong? Green overlooked a crucial trend: while “hardware” costs (food, appliances, cars, electronics) have plummeted due to technological advances, “software” costs—especially services like education and healthcare—have soared.
In short: survival costs have decreased, but aspirational costs have risen sharply. Why do so many middle-class Americans feel the chill of the “kill line”? Because maintaining a dignified, comfortable life is increasingly unaffordable.
This is precisely “Baumol’s Cost Disease,” named after economist William Baumol, who in 1965 observed that sectors reliant on technology (like manufacturing) become more efficient and cheaper over time, while labor-intensive service sectors (like education and healthcare) see stagnant productivity and rising costs.
Yet paradoxically, the extra money middle-class families spend on these services helps raise incomes for many others across society.
Green’s real question isn’t about middle-class survival—it’s about societal efficiency versus equity. If the system fails to help middle-class families reduce their cost of living, inequality will only worsen.
04
America currently has about 770,000 homeless people—just 0.2% of its population. With the middle class making up 51% (some estimates say 53% or even 60%), if a true “kill line” existed, the homeless population would be tens or even hundreds of times larger.
Why are homeless people so visible in America? Because they cluster in urban centers—specifically, cities with public transit. In America’s “automobile society,” life outside major cities without a car is nearly impossible. Thus, Los Angeles, New York, and Chicago become homelessness hotspots.
Homelessness has diverse causes. Yes, some middle-class individuals fall into homelessness due to financial ruin—but many others suffer from mental illness, addiction, generational poverty, or even lifestyle choices. Those who’ve seen Chloé Zhao’s film Nomadland might view homelessness through a different lens.
America has never been a paradise. The harsh realities of poverty, racial barriers to upward mobility, and systemic flaws in healthcare and welfare have long fueled political debate.
In 2003, the Pulitzer Prize–winning book Random Family exposed a grim cycle in Black communities: lack of educational access led young people to form unstable families, deepening poverty across generations.
Similarly, J.D. Vance’s 2016 bestseller Hillbilly Elegy (adapted into a 2020 film) revealed how globalization-driven manufacturing decline caused once-stable working-class whites to plummet into poverty.
Even in a wealthy nation like the U.S., social systems have glaring gaps—especially regarding healthcare, education, racial equity, and wealth disparity. No country is perfect; no system is flawless. The harsh treatment of the poor and the unfairness of welfare systems are global challenges.
The plight of America’s middle class is real. Severe housing shortages and inflation have intensified “affordability” pressures nationwide.
Many white middle-class Americans blame globalization, offshoring, and illegal immigration for their struggles—sentiments that helped propel Trump to victory.
Yet gloating over America’s “middle-class kill line” is just another episode of “capitalist apocalypse” fantasy. As geopolitical tensions escalate globally, middle-class stability is under threat everywhere. Trade wars, tariffs, conflicts—all erode the already fragile resources needed to sustain middle-class life. This isn’t something to celebrate.
Seeing others’ pain should remind us of our own struggles. Only through empathy can we identify shared challenges and seek collective solutions.
The American “middle-class kill line” may not be real today—but it could become real if unchecked antagonism continues. To reset globalization, we must understand the genuine hardships facing America’s middle class. Engaging with the U.S. through empathy—not schadenfreude—is the right path forward.
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