Ruminations on Class

Ruminations on Class July 21, 2009

I’ve been thinking a lot about the developing underclass, or the disappearing middle class, or the rise in unemployment, or whatever you want to call it. It equals good looking middle class people in the shitty jobs and the less fortunate looking stuck doing whatever is even worse than working at the corner gas station or the local Taco Bell.

I just read an article here that talks about the challenge of “passing” as middle class white. Now he’s not talking about ethnic minorities here, he’s talking about himself, a white high school dropout with a southern accent. He includes minorities as well, he just includes those light skinned folk who don’t know how to talk about soccer leagues, and polo shirts (to generalize a little) and this idea of passing is what struck me. It rang true to my own middle class experience as well. Though I came from a middle class family, my father has a masters of electrical engineering, I often found myself in the position of the odd one out. Often the people around me had more money, or more time, or seemed smarter, or more able to do calculus at least. I faked it, and I still do in polite company. I never have fit into that middle class model, I’m too artsy, too dreamy, too interested in the messy, the dirty, the low.

This article I read postulates that the answer to a growing group of people who cannot get ahead is increased social support, akin to Australian or European models, such as universal health care, or more support for single mothers. I totally agree that these are very good ideas and well worth implementing. At the same time, for me, personally, I think there’s a culture clash, maybe even something deeper, that those programs would not assist. That’s not to say I think we shouldn’t have universal health care. I do. I think it would save untold money, simply getting preventative care for everyone who needs it. Still, I’m a person who doesn’t fit into the middle class. I don’t even really want to anymore. I think that we need to find other models of success, other ways to measure ourselves than how tidy our yard, or how many classes and sports we have our children enrolled in. I work. I work hard. I just do it in my own way. I guess the only way to know if I’m right is to live a life true to myself. My family and I are my own experiment. Scary thought. I hope it all turns out well.


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