Are we in the UK still obsessed with the archaic notion of class.Well yes and in the execution of this project I realise I probably have a more unhealthy obsession with it than I should but there is no getting away with it class or at least some sort of heirachy exsists and communities are often built around them.Quite often these communities are more polarised than they once were although I’m not suggesting by any means it wasn’t ever that way before.I would say however that there have been times when communities built around class were less polarised if only briefly.
For instance after WW2 in the UK with the setting up of the welfare state people from many backgrounds and in particular poorer,working class people were finally getting some of the things promised to them after the sacrifices and slaughter of WW1 which were only partially delivered. Apart from the NHS,better working conditions and support if they were out of work,due partly to the destruction of many houses a building boom assured for the first time for many a move to decent clean hygenic accomaodation,by the 1950s many of the houses unfit for purpose were replaced in the slum clearances by vast social or as they were called then council estates.There was many who did not want to go but the vast majority of people were over the moon with the running water and inside toilets,large swathes of people moved from places like the East End of London to huge new estates in Dagenham and the such like.These communities to begin with were designed by town planners with a worthy utopian dream in mind and to a large extent until the early 80s when they were sold off and left in disrepair to become a dystopian nightmare did just that. They were designed not to house problem families or the desperate,in fact there were very strict rules to make sure the houses were kept in good condition and nuisance neighbours were not tolorated.They were in demand.
The estates were designed to create a space where people from many backgrounds,proffesions and class lived and worked together. It was not unusual for a teacher of the local school or doctor of the GP practice to live on the same estate as the local shop owner, the milkman or policeman,it was a brief period from the mid 1960s through to the late 1970s.It did not last long but whilst it did it proved that communities do not have to be quite so disparate or consist of one demographic as a whole.
Belonging to a community or class can be a fabulous thing,throughout history it has shown to be vital in creating sustainable ways of living and social mobility.Groups of people working towards the same goals collectively can most often achieve thoese aims more succesfully than the individual,we as a species are a social beast,we rely on that to survive and thrive.We rely on it for our well being.
The problem with that is that it creates a hierachy,again this can when used correctly be a benifit,it is when that power is used not for the benefit of the whole group that problems occour,is ther emuch we can do about that,probably not but the extent of the issues it causes maybe can be addressed.
In the UK as with many other countries,the heirarchy is based upon power and the perpetuation and retaining of that power often built upon centuries of tradition and indoctrination,it becomes the norm.This is no different in smaller community groups where we accept these norms.
Rarely before have we seen the blurring of those lines around class and caste and although social mobility is on the wain class,accent and even to some extent race has allowed this to happen.Or has it really.
In the UK the most MPS are privately educated and middle -upper class,the present cabinet is the most elite in years.Most heads of big business,its the same even in what most might think of as the liberal arts such as the music industry,acting,media,tv even photography,these areas are disprortionatly represented by peopel from middle,upper and elite classes.
So what you may say,the politics of envy maybe.Well maybe but these are the people who shape the way we think and if the work being produced only reflects their life view how will the people they inform know what it is really like to not have those advantages,it’s dangerous for all society.
It perpetuates that myth that being poor is somehow “their” fault and not that of societies as a whole.It perpetuates the myth that all working class are lazy and stupid,of no use ,it creates an alienation that affects all society,a polarisation that is unhealthy and unsustainable.
It has not always been that way. In fact it was not that long ago that it may well have been celebrated.
I found this article from Vice magazine insightful and relatable. Also quite worryingly still a relevant topic of discussion.
I Never Worried About Being Working Class Until I Went to Art School
Growing up in Telford, social class was never a big deal. That all changed when I moved away for university.
BETH ASHLEY: “AT 18, I WASN’T CONSCIOUS OF MY SOCIAL CLASS.”
“How are you getting eight grand a year while I’m getting nothing?” a flatmate asked me as our student loans rolled in, a day I’d impatiently anticipated while assigning which emergency can of soup I was going to crack open on which days.
I asked him why he didn’t get anything, wondering if he’d done his application wrong.
He said “for whatever reason” students with rich parents didn’t get maintenance loans. This made him, in his words, “fucked”.
“Yeah, you seem really fucked with your brand new car and weekly Ocado deliveries pre-ordered by your mum,” I thought. Politics
I Watched the Neighbourhood I Grew Up in Get Gentrified
Until then, at 18, I wasn’t conscious of my social class. This may sound ridiculous, especially as my single, teenage mother – who juggled college with two minimum wage jobs – shared a single bed with me in my nan’s house until she could afford to rent a council flat.
I grew up in Telford, a mining town just west of the Black Country and bordering Wales. It’s diverse but sadly not integrated – one of those towns that’s bewilderingly Tory blue, where the poor have been gaslit into voting for parties that oppose their interests.
Most men work locally, while women marry young, have children and work part-time happily too. My life was mirrored by my friends and classmates. Our parents worked in shops and factories, and until my mum eventually graduated from university and became a support worker, I knew of few other occupations. I was aware of them, but they were the jobs you daydreamed about – not the jobs you actually applied for to pay the bills and keep your family afloat.
Still, I dreamt big. I’ve wanted to be a writer since I discovered Roald Dahl and started folding stolen printer paper into “books” to document my “novels” in barely-legible crayon. I even forced my mum and my primary school teachers to write endorsements on the back: “You could write that it’s tea-spittingly funny,” I’d direct, copying a Stephen Fry quote from the local WH Smiths shopfront. Though my community upheld the unbreakable school-work-house-marriage-children formula, my family were encouraging – but I needed a “real job” to sustain my “hobby”, so I applied for a combined creative writing and journalism degree.
BETH ASHLEY: “UNAWARE OF HOW OTHER PEOPLE LIVED, I NEVER FELT LIKE I MISSED OUT ON ANYTHING.”
I was quintessentially working class, but naivety had granted me blissful oblivion. Unaware of how other people lived, I never felt like I missed out on anything.
Going to art school in Surrey was the first place I mixed with people from other class backgrounds. That conversation with my flatmate wasn’t the only one causing division. Throughout freshers week, as we crawled pubs and played Never Have I Ever – the only ice breaker anyone actually likes – nonchalant comments about money, skiing trips, and even a family butler, left me feeling isolated.
I’m not alone in this feeling. Ben Rogaly, a professor of human geography at the Sussex Centre for Migration Research, notes that spending time in typically middle-class spaces can be traumatic for some working-class people. “Teaching in a university, I sometimes see working-class students enter this middle-class environment and feel alienated, even experiencing mental health problems. They can accumulate a sense of exclusion, of otherness.”
Though my flatmates were all genuine friends of mine, anger deriving from distinct class division became a theme of my student life. The rich had a very different transition into the art world to the few working-class students. Their families never questioned their career plan, and they arrived without the budget tracking sheets and tinned food our mums had tearily pressed into our arms. Some had never worried about money, and probably never would, which I found irritating and at times unbearable. Life
How Losing Your Regional Accent Affects Your Identity
The isolation was only exacerbated in my first media job. I found it through a diversity programme but was still surrounded by upper-middle-class people. Soon, co-workers started unrelatable conversations about their electric cars, holiday homes and nepotism-fueled career trajectories.
Colleagues found anecdotes about my life funny when they weren’t meant to be, savouring the dramatic elements like it was a soap opera. Eventually, I started dressing like them, diluted my accentto flow with theirs, and avoided discussing anything that was a class signifier – like my family home, my mum’s relative youth and the schools I attended. I was performing upper-class at work as a protective shield, then switching back to default at home, which was a £250pcm bedroom with someone else’s vomit on the walls.
Rogaly observes in his book that many people have mixed emotions about their identities. “The same person could feel pride and shame at their class background in one conversation, yet identify with it in another.”
It’s hard to pinpoint when I stopped acting like my colleagues and actually became one of them. After a few years of hard work and promotions, I found myself living in one of the most affluent areas of Hampshire with a salary I never imagined I’d have. I only noticed the transition when a friend pointed out I was earning more than most of my family members – a realisation that brought a confusing mix of relief, guilt, and fear that I was a “class traitor”.
For a long time I lived in a constant state of imposter syndrome. My colleagues never really bonded with me. But back home, the way I was seen, talked to (or about) had shifted. My family don’t always understand my career but they’re proud. Friends who remained in our hometown think I’ve abandoned our roots.
Flippant jokes from friends about me having a New Yorker subscription and spending all my time in pretentious coffee shops (to be fair, I deserve this) had me wondering if I had abandoned my class, but I didn’t feel like I had.
I’ve whined to my mum – who studied class mobility while trying to achieve it – about this confusion. She’s adamant a person can’t change their class once they’ve reached adulthood, because our identities, values and behaviours have already formed. “Even if you won the lottery, you’d still be a poor kid at heart.” I’m not sure if I agree, but at least she doesn’t think I’ve abandoned her. Money
We Need to Stop Assuming All Millennials Are Middle Class
There’s limited research on whether someone can entirely move from one class to another. I know because I’ve looked, extensively and nervously, as I frequently feel obliged to pick a side. It seems classist to dismiss my obtained wealth, but equally so to disregard my upbringing. Though I don’t have the insulation my new peers have long-held, I’m unsure of my place now that I’m financially comfortable and living in a middle-class bubble. There is one Oxford University study that defines social mobility as “someone landing an occupation of higher status than their father.” I never had the latter, so to quote Kanye: I guess we’ll never know.
I still feel like I’m in turmoil, but I’ve found comfort in that. As Rogaly says, discomfort can help “to challenge class inequality and speak about class in terms of the social relationships entailed – rather than trying to define what it means to be in a particular class”. It’s a privilege to have acquired my dream job and a comfortable home, but be grounded by the working-class values I was raised on. I didn’t believe I belonged because I hadn’t seen anyone else like me in the spaces I wanted to occupy, but I know now that the imposter syndrome I felt had little to do with me – it was a reverberation of deep-seated inequality.































































