16 Feb 2013

Coming To Terms With Class

All my life, I have said that I don't know what class I am. I have said that since my parents are divorced, my Dad's social standing does not apply to me. I have, on occasion, and when I was much younger, played up how much physical labor my family partakes in on a weekly basis. I admit, our family budget does not extend to posh cheese and any wine made before roughly five years ago, but it's not like we've ever had to choose between meat and heating. Well, I certainly haven't, but this may have something to do with the fact that I don't eat meat. That point may be void.
Even so, I do own Cath Kidson bedding. It was given to me by my father's friend, but none the less, my duvet is currently eggshell blue, and covered in roses.
So, here I am, for the first time in my life, standing up and admitting: I am middle class.
No you all have to say it as well - assuming that it applies to you.
The majority of people I know are middle class. In fact, I'm pretty sure everyone I know is middle class. And I don't think I've ever met anyone who actively admits to being so. In fact, as my media teacher said last year - "If you don't think you're middle class, you're probably middle class." And he has a very good point. No one wants to admit that they're middle class. No one wants to admit to having a degree education, being able to pay the bills on time, and being able to buy nice clothes on a whim.
I think this is because, for some reason, in the UK, we seem to like complaining. The middle class really have very little to really complain about. I'm not one of those people who goes around screaming "YOU'RE WHITE, CHECK YOUR PRIVILEGE, BITCH!", but I do often think to myself, "Yeah, you can't go out this weekend, but still, you ate three square meals today."
I think also people don't like admitting to being middle class (I nearly wrote male class, tee hee hee) because of the 'reputation' that goes with it. The wine-drinking, guardian-reading, politics-discussing reputation. Well balls to that. I like wine. I like the Guardian, and I like politics. I also like Radio 4, purchasing tea cups, and scowling at people on trains. I don't know which I am more; middle class, or middle aged. I have a niggling feeling that people feel that if we admit to being middle class, people will think we are boring, and angry. Of course we're boring and angry, we're British. Personally, I have become quite fond of being boring and angry - I can shout at Gorge Osborne on telly and no body cares. (Obviously this stereotypes does not apply to everyone... nah, come on, who are we kidding?)
My point is, I think we should start to actually admit that some of us may just be middle class, and embrace it. It's a blessing. I admit, some of us are much more middle class than others - for example, I live in a house that has no straight walls, and quite a small bath. I know some people who have only straight walls, and more than one large-type baths. With separate showers. However, at least I live in a house, and I have a bath.
Be thankful for being middle class, and stop being such a dick for pretending you're not. Embrace the films with subtitles, and cheese that smells of feet. Count your blessings (don't check your privilege).
My second point is that I'm going to wait till morning to post this. I had quite a lot of wine at book club, and drunk me is not to be trusted. Shut up. I'm 18. And middle class.

Sober, mid morning me thinks all of these point are valid. She has also realized that she needs to stop tweeting Brian Cox in the middle of the night, tell him how happy he makes her. Oh dear. 

No comments:

Post a Comment