Episode 8 coming soon
Why doesn't Congress look like the public?
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Congress is older, more educated, and made up of a higher share of men than the US population.
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Substantive representation
Representatives respond to, and act in the interest of, the people they represent.
Descriptive representation
When a representative also shares experiences of things like race, gender, or socio-economic status with their constituents.
Dyadic representation
A form of descriptive representation where we think about congresspeople, and the state or district they represent, as a dyad, or an interacting pair.
Collective representation
The idea that Congress as a whole reflects the country as a whole.
Incumbency advantage
When congresspeople who run for re-election are way more likely to win.
Description
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Transcript
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Do me a favor: Imagine a “congressperson.” What’s the image in your head?
It might be someone like New Jersey senator Cory Booker, who campaigned to be our second Black president in 2020. Or Minnesota House Rep Ilhan Omar, who immigrated to the U.S. from Somalia.
But statistically speaking, it's more likely to be someone like this. Or this. Or this.
So why doesn’t Congress look like the rest of the country? And how much does that mismatched representation actually even matter?
Do me a favor: Imagine a “congressperson.” What’s the image in your head?
It might be someone like New Jersey senator Cory Booker, who campaigned to be our second Black president in 2020. Or Minnesota House Rep Ilhan Omar, who immigrated to the U.S. from Somalia.
But statistically speaking, it's more likely to be someone like this. Or this. Or this.
So why doesn’t Congress look like the rest of the country? And how much does that mismatched representation actually even matter?
Hi! I'm Kousha Navidar, this is Crash Course, and we’re answering Big Questions on U.S. Government.
[THEME MUSIC]
Across both the House and the Senate, Congress as a whole is more diverse than ever these days. But it’s still a long way away from reflecting the population of our country.
And, okay, let’s admit it, it’s pretty much impossible for Congress to perfectly represent /every/ possible identity– I mean, the US is made up of 340 million people, all of whom are beautiful, unique individuals. [BCAM] I’m talking about /you/.
[ACAM] But even on the most general identity markers, from gender to race to economic status, representation isn’t only imperfect– it’s pretty dramatically skewed.
Like, even though non-Hispanic white people are 58% of the US’s population, they make up 74% of Congress. And while about half our country is men, in Congress they have a huge majority at 71%.
But here’s the thing: Congress is supposed to be the branch of government that represents us /directly/. That’s why it’s often called the “people’s branch.” It’s the only federal branch that’s elected directly by the people, instead of chosen by electors or nominated by the President.
And the decisions Congress makes have huge, direct impacts on all of our daily lives. According to the Constitution, Congress has the power to make laws, collect and spend taxes, declare war, and a bunch of other stuff, like “define and punish Piracies and Felonies committed on the high Seas.”
[BCAM] Which they seem to be doing a good job at. I have seen zero pirates where I live in Brooklyn. Men with parrots? Yes. But I don’t think they’re accredited.
Sorry, back to Congress. All those powers I mentioned? Congress is only supposed to do all that stuff as it aligns with the /regular/ people they represent.
[SUB-stan-tiv] Some people think that this representation works, no matter what Congress actually looks like identity-wise. In the ‘60s, political theorist Hanna Pitkin made the case that all we really need is substantive representation, where representatives respond to, and act in the interest of, the people they represent.
Pitkin’s argument is that, as long as your representative is behaving like you want them to, then it doesn’t matter who they actually /are/.
But some folks think substantive representation isn’t always enough. In the late 90s, political scientist Jane Mansbridge made an argument that descriptive representation enhances substantive representation, because a person can better represent their constituents when they /also/ share experiences of things like race, gender, or socio-economic status.
And there is logic for that: while anyone can /try/ to understand a group’s interests, nobody can understand them as well as the group members themselves. Black people don’t have to learn or imagine what it’s like to be Black, they just know. Same goes for women, people from low-income backgrounds, and those with disabilities, and veterans, and teachers, and immigrants.
So when reps actually share these kinds of qualities, it means they can spend less time trying to /understand/ the problems their constituents are facing, and more time /solving/ them in ways that really work.
To learn more, let’s throw it to our historian, Buff!
[BEGIN TANGENT]
[BUFF] Oh– oh my god– Kousha, you know I’m not good at sports!
[KOUSHA] Don’t worry about it, bud. Let’s get going, before YouTube plays another ad.
[BUFF] Ok. In the wake of the Civil War, the lack of Black representation in Congress was a major barrier to Black citizens /actually/ gaining real rights in the US. The 13th amendment abolished slavery in 1865, and in 1866, an all-white Congress representing all those states that /hadn’t/ left the union passed the first Civil Rights Act, which gave citizenship to Black people born in the US and guaranteed them basic legal rights. The 14th amendment locked that stuff into the Constitution, and in 1870, the 15th amendment guaranteed Black people the right to vote. Or at least it /tried/ to.
[BUFF] Even though Black people had supposedly won equal rights, they were actually still facing /tons/ of inequality. White folks in power put up barriers to prevent Black people from actually /exercising/ those rights. Everything from poll taxes and literacy tests to being barred from public transportation, schools, juries, and businesses – which was all still totally legal.
[HY-rim Reh-vels] [BUFF] But something else huge happened in 1870: Hiram R. Revels from Mississippi became the first Black US senator. He was followed pretty quickly by Joseph H. Rainey, a formerly enslaved person who was elected as a rep for South Carolina – the first Black member of the House.
[BUFF] By 1871, there were five Black people in Congress. By 1873, there were seven. And they knew something all those White congressmen didn’t: that all those big, fancy bills and amendments weren’t doing enough to actually guarantee Black citizens their civil rights.
[BUFF] And in 1875, those 7 congressmen pushed hard for a new Civil Rights Act, one that would outlaw those other forms of discrimination, using their personal experiences to advocate for Black Americans all across the country.
[BUFF] The Civil Rights Act of 1875 passed, but only after it had been /majorly/ weakened by a Congress that was still very, very white. And in 1883, the Supreme Court overturned the whole thing. I bet you can guess how many of /them/ were Black.
[END TANGENT]
[KOUSHA] Zero. The answer is Zero.
So, the Civil Rights Act of 1875 shows us that, clearly, representation has an impact. It also shows that /lack/ of descriptive representation has a cost. 7 Black reps was a lot for the time, but it wasn’t anywhere close to enough to accurately represent the almost 5 /million/ Black people in the US at the time.
And after 1877, the number of Black Congresspeople dropped off. It would take almost a century for there to be 5 Black Congresspeople at once again: 1963, to be precise, which just /happened/ to be the year before the /next/ Civil Rights Act passed, with the Voting Rights Act following on its heels.
And the advantages of representation aren’t just limited to race. During World War II, the number of veterans in Congress doubled. They were instrumental in passing the GI Bill, which provided veterans with benefits, like access to government-funded education, following their service. And researchers have found that Congresspeople from wealthy backgrounds vote differently on economic legislation than those with lower- and middle-class backgrounds.
So, obviously, descriptive representation is important. And political scholars have ideas about how to make it happen.
One school of thought is dyadic representation, a form of descriptive representation where we think about congresspeople, and the state or district they represent, as a dyad, or an interacting pair.
And this often happens all on its own. Like, candidates of color are way more likely to be elected in districts with more people of color. as districts with higher Black populations elect Black reps, and districts with more Latin American people elect Latin American reps, and districts with more farmers elect reps with agricultural backgrounds, Congress starts to look more and more diverse, and more and more like the people it actually represents.
And when it comes to representation, this often happens all on its own. Like, candidates of color are way more likely to be elected in districts with more people of color. And if this happens enough on the district level, it can also lead to collective representation, where Congress as a whole reflects the country as a whole. Like, as districts with higher Black populations elect Black reps, and districts with more Latin American people elect Latin American reps, and districts with more farmers elect reps with agricultural backgrounds, Congress starts to look more and more diverse, and more and more like the people it actually represents.
But it’s not as easy as just voting for the rep that looks like you. Identities are complex, and layered, and intersect in all sorts of intricate ways. I wouldn’t necessarily vote for someone on the ballot just because they’re a male Iranian immigrant from upstate New York who’s bald-by-choice and doesn’t like arugula just because we share those identities, especially if I disagree with his policies. And what about when my choices are between a female Iranian immigrant or a bald-by-choice man? [BCAM] Honestly, it is whoever’s with me on arugula. I’m a single issue voter.
And while Congress is /more/ diverse than it has been in the past, it still doesn’t look like the US population as a whole. And aside from being more white, more male, Congress is also generally older, and way richer, than the country as a whole.
Like, in the US, about twenty percent of the general population is between 25 and 40. In Congress, it’s only 6 percent. Part of that makes sense– it takes time to build up the kinds of connections and networks that get you name recognition, donors, and your foot in the door.
Congress’s geriatric skew is also due to the incumbency advantage, where congresspeople who run for /re/-election are way more likely to win. Unlike presidents, congresspeople can be elected again and again forever. Which doesn’t leave many seats open for new reps, who might be younger.
But to really understand why Congress is /so/ old-White-straight-able-bodied-educated-male, you’ve gotta follow the money. Because on top of being so old-White-straight-able-bodied-educated-male, Congress is also /loaded/.
Regardless of race. Regardless of gender. Winning an election is /expensive/. So when it comes to making Congress, you know what your hugest advantage is? Being rich. Long before the $174,000 salary you start making if you win.
In 2015, a typical congressperson had a net worth /12 times/ that of a typical American. And by 2020, over half our congresspeople were millionaires, compared to about 7 percent of the U.S. population. And this intersects with those /other/ inequalities in Congress, too, because nobody is more likely to have money –and connections – than an old-White-straight-able-bodied-educated male, thanks to that good old-fashioned history of racism, misogyny, ableism, and disenfranchisement!
This makes it hard for Congress to actually, descriptively represent the people of the United States – but not impossible.
Like I said, the current Congress is the most diverse /ever/. Since 2007, the number of people of color, and the number of women in Congress, have almost doubled.
And while that seems like a good thing policy-wise, it’s also beneficial to the future of representation in Congress. That’s because electing diverse congresspeople creates a /virtuous cycle/ of representation by fostering something that I find so inspirational. A sense of political empowerment and showing other potential politicians that politics isn’t just for “other people,” it’s for people like them…like you, too.
And /that/ leads to what’s called political efficacy: when individual people become more involved in their government. That might mean stuff like calling your reps, getting involved locally, or generally feeling that your voice in our government actually matters. Which in turn gets more and more different kinds of people running for office– and the cycle continues.
So, as it turns out, representation in Congress is, like, really important. Who would have thought the branch of government meant to represent the people should actually, you know, /represent/ the people?
Unfortunately, probably none of that will ever get a bald eagle into the House or the Senate. And while Congress is generally more diverse than ever, a 2026 Supreme Court decision limited some of the protections of the Voting Rights Act and set the stage for a dramatically /less/ diverse Congress moving forward. But that doesn’t mean things are over for Congressional diversity. The more people show up to vote for their representatives, the better they’ll be, well, represented. And while we’ve got a long way to go, it does seem like representation in Congress is bending, like so many things, on the long arc toward justice.
But no matter who is filling those Congressional seats, another question remains: Why can’t Congress get /anything/ done?? That’s next episode on Crash Course: Big Questions on U.S. Government, see you then.
[OUTRO]
This episode of Crash Course Big Questions on U.S. Government was produced in partnership with USAFacts, a non-partisan civic tech project that makes government data easier to understand.
Thanks for watching this episode of Crash Course Big Questions on U.S. Government, which was filmed at our studio in Indianapolis, Indiana, and was made with the help of all these nice people. If you want to help keep Crash Course free for everyone, forever, you can join our community on Patreon.
Coming Nov. 17, 2026
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