The Neverland of Privilege: J.D. Vance, Elon Musk, Pres. Trump, and the Luxury of Eternal Boyhood

​J.D. Vance’s recent comments about rehiring a former DOGE staffer who resigned over racist social media posts reveal a glaring truth in America: wealth and privilege serve as a perpetual shield for white men, granting them an extended childhood well into adulthood. When Vance defended his former staffer, Marko Elez, by suggesting, “People make mistakes, and we shouldn’t be in the business of canceling young kids,” he wasn’t referring to an actual child. Elez is a 25-year-old man who held a well-paying government job. In any other context, someone of his age and stature would be expected to take full accountability for their actions. But in the Neverland of affluence, responsibility is often optional. Even more damning, Elez’s racist comments, which included amplifying white nationalist rhetoric and espousing bigoted views on social media, weren’t made when he was a teenager—they were made just last year. He was not a 'kid' making youthful mistakes; he was a fully grown adult who knew exactly what he was doing.

Elez’s presence in the government underscores how deeply embedded privilege can be. As a software engineer working within the Treasury Department as part of Musk’s DOGE effort, Elez was responsible for overseeing cost-cutting measures and fraud detection. Despite his racist social media activity—where he promoted eugenic immigration policies, called for repealing the Civil Rights Act, and proudly declared himself racist before it was “cool”—he was still granted access to one of the most sensitive financial systems in the country. His resignation was only secured after public exposure, yet even then, Vance and his supporters pushed for his redemption, as if his hateful views were merely a youthful indiscretion rather than a dangerous ideology.

Vance, once a self-styled champion of working-class Ohioans, has abandoned his 'hillbilly' roots and the days of sipping on well water, now fully immersed in the political machinery he once decried. His comments are merely the icing on the cake, as Elon Musk welcomed Elez back into the fold, and Donald Trump offered his stamp of approval. Their actions are abhorrent, yet unsurprising. Their lack of character is as deep as their cash flow, even if it is new money, as in Vance’s case. This is not just a Republican issue—Democrats live in Neverland too. Bill Clinton might as well have struck up permanent residence there, evading accountability for years under the guise of charm and political savvy. The issue is not strictly partisan; it is a reflection of how wealth insulates individuals from consequences, allowing them to operate above the standards imposed on ordinary Americans.

For the privileged, youthfulness is not simply a matter of age—it’s a socioeconomic construct. Affluent men are given the grace to be “kids” for as long as they need to be, regardless of their financial independence, job status, or political power. This luxury allows them to make mistakes, receive forgiveness, and re-enter the fold without lasting consequences.

This phenomenon extends beyond Elez and is best exemplified by former President Donald Trump, a man who has lived his life as America’s oldest adolescent. Trump’s petulance, impulsive decision-making, and constant need for validation are attributes one might associate with a privileged teenager rather than a world leader. Yet, his childish antics—insulting opponents with schoolyard taunts, refusing to accept electoral losses, and throwing public tantrums—are frequently dismissed, even admired, because of his wealth. Rather than being treated as an unhinged elder statesman, he is granted the leeway to behave like a spoiled child who has never had to face the full weight of his actions.

This is the ultimate power of wealth: it doesn’t just shield its possessors from consequences—it grants them the illusion of eternal youth. In a country where youthfulness is prized, where people spend billions on cosmetic procedures and skincare regimens, nothing can turn back the clock more effectively than money. Wealth is better than Botox. While ordinary Americans—especially those from marginalized backgrounds—are forced to grow up quickly, take on responsibilities, and navigate life with minimal safety nets, the wealthy can afford to exist in a state of prolonged adolescence.

However, this privilege of eternal boyhood is rarely extended to women, even those of economic means. Affluent women are still expected to maintain decorum, bear the burden of responsibility, and face public scrutiny when they step out of line. A wealthy man can claim youthful ignorance after making racist comments, yet a woman—whether rich or poor—faces real consequences for far less. Women in politics, business, and media often find that their mistakes are not met with second chances but with career-ending backlash. Social media has become an unforgiving space where women, regardless of privilege, are held to rigid standards of behavior. Their missteps, whether real or perceived, often come with swift and permanent repercussions.

For poor people and many minoritized populations, the concept of extended adolescence is a fantasy. Black and brown kids are often treated as adults long before their time, subject to harsher school discipline, over-policing, and societal expectations that demand they “know better” despite their circumstances. Immigrant children, many of whom serve as translators for their parents and take on adult responsibilities at an early age, do not get to be kids past childhood. They are expected to contribute, work, and assimilate into American society without the luxury of youthful indiscretions.

For many Americans, childhood ends the moment survival becomes the primary concern. Working-class families do not have the luxury of mistakes; one financial misstep can lead to homelessness, one criminal record can derail an entire future. There are no billionaire safety nets, no political allies eager to grant second chances. Poor people don’t get to be kids past childhood because society demands they grow up and fend for themselves. But if you are a wealthy man of a certain privilege, the world will extend your adolescence for as long as you need—whether you’re 25 like Elez, 45 like Vance, or 77 like Trump.
​
J.D. Vance’s comments are more than just a political maneuver; they expose a broader truth about who is allowed to stumble, to fail, and to recover in America. The Neverland of wealth and privilege remains exclusive, a place where the privileged never truly have to grow up, while the rest of us are forced into adulthood before we even reach adolescence.