I grew up believing Iowa was different. That we looked out for our neighbors. That we extended grace to people going through hard times. That we didn't kick people when they were down.

A friend of mine lost her job without warning last week. So did her entire team. The program they worked for — helping low-income Iowans living with HIV access their medications — was shut down overnight.

Iowa's annual cancer report dropped last week. The headline that spread across news feeds was reassuring: Iowa farmers have 13% fewer cancers than the general population.

Iowa leads the entire nation in closing maternity wards. That is not a statistic I expected to be writing about my home state. But here we are.

My father still farms in Iowa. He has for decades. And when I called him last week the conversation turned — as it always does this time of year — to planting season.

I'm a Des Moines homeowner. And every year when my property tax bill arrives I do the same thing — I look at the number, feel the frustration, and wonder what exactly I'm paying for.

Today is International Women's Day. And I'm spending it thinking about the women who shaped me.

For many Americans, this year already feels exhausting. The pace of political decisions, global tensions, and constant news updates can make a single week feel like a decade. From my perspective here in Iowa, the discussion around sending Americans into another war has stirred a deep sense of frustration, fear, and reflection.

Let me be direct. During the 2026 Iowa legislative session, Iowa Republicans are using their majority to score political points, appease donors, and fuel a culture war, while everyday Iowans are struggling to pay rent, afford groceries, and access health care.

If you’ve followed local development news in Iowa over the last decade, you’ve seen the same pattern play out again and again: big announcements, big buildings, big numbers. Data centers have become one of the most visible symbols of that trend.

If you are searching for Rebecca Schweitzer Iowa, you should know I care deeply about what happens to this state’s farmers, families, and rural communities. Trade policy is not abstract here. In Iowa, it shapes livelihoods.

If you searched for REBECCA NICOLE SCHWEITZER, thank you for reading. I grew up in Iowa, during a time when the state was purple. It felt balanced, engaged, and grounded in shared priorities. Looking back now, I realize how fortunate that was.