Meditation on Class; Or, Notes from the Other Side

What I've come to call the "academic trifecta" -- race, class, and gender -- has been pervading almost all aspects of my life lately, and I'm not sure why. Ever since I got to graduate school in August 2005, I've felt a certain unease with the pervasiveness of such questions at the expense of others. I'm not saying, and I've never said, that the academy shouldn't be a place for everyone. But I feel like I have to qualify my statements -- as I just did -- because of what people think they know about me. To put it another way, I suspect people think that I'm "putting on" my liberalism. They believe, for reasons unbeknownst to me, that I can't possibly be a true liberal because I've had a life of privilege. And as we all know, rich people can't possibly be Democrats (even though my grandparents and parents have been their whole lives; and I wouldn't exactly call my parents "rich," either). They think that money comes out of the vents at my apartment (if that can happen, please turn the switch on). And, they think that because I don't write about r/c/g that somehow, I'm faking my liberalism.

Perhaps I am. I do feel that often, I've had to conform to the paradigms of race/class/gender when discussing texts or conceiving projects. It's almost as if being working class has become "cool," at least in the academy. I have chosen not to become an academic feminist for several reasons (and this choice was made quite a few years ago) and I don't feel I should have to be one. (Yes, you heard me correctly. That "not" in there is intentional). Nor do I believe that I ought to be obligated to always consider race/class/gender in every project. Again, a qualifier: I do believe that these things are useful to think and write about. But I've got very little to say about any of them.

And maybe I've got little to say about them because my class position has effectively been silenced. Now, you all are probably going to think this is whiny and smacks of unawareness of the truly privileged position I occupy, which goes along with the equally privileged life I have had. And that statement alone should alert you to the fact that I am, indeed, quite aware. Nonetheless, I feel that my voice isn't heard, because it's become (somehow) "not critical enough." One example among many: I was giving a paper at a grad student conference where I performed a close reading of Thackeray's Vanity Fair. This close reading was intended to demonstrate how the structure of the novel and its main characters, were both working with and against accepted social ideas. After I was finished reading, many audience members seemed dissatisfied. Their comments for me went along these lines: "But, Sarah, what about Becky Sharp's racism? What about gender?" And my personal favorite: "I haven't read the novel, and I'm not familiar with Victorian novels in general, but I really think you elided some crucial issues at work here." When I asked this person to elaborate, the reply came: "Well, you didn't talk about feminism or how gender was restrictive in the period." (The last time I checked, you had to read a book before you talked about it).

I remember this so vividly because it was my first -- and, by far, not the last -- experience with this kind of comment. Do I have an obligation to always consider the trifecta in every analysis? Further, must I conform to beliefs I don't hold or pretend to engage with things I don't see? And must I succumb to the machine that has essentially erased my views because they're "not critical enough"? (This viewpoint, I think, comes from my class position).

How are we silencing others by not allowing all voices to be heard? Isn't this what we say we are doing? My position, and in many cases, my voice, has been erased or dismissed because it comes from this mythical land of privilege. Just because my dad used to be a CIO of a company doesn't mean he slashed his fellow colleagues' benefits and dreamed up money-laundering schemes to line his pockets. I think, if you went through his pockets, you'd find some loose change, a gum wrapper, and a Swiss-Army knife. And maybe a mint or two. Definitely not money. And this was his choice. He chose to spend the money he earned/earns on my college education (and my sister's), which, I might add, he financed by borrowing against the mortgage he had already taken out on our house. People have told me, when I say this, that he could do this because of "class."

I respectfully disagree. He did this because he chose to do so. Now, I recognize that not everyone has the opportunity to make these choices -- and I lament that fact. I dream of the day when no one has to choose between sending their children to college or paying the rent. Or health care bills, etc. But on the other hand, how are we essentially invalidating the hard work my father (for one) put in, and continues to put in, every day, to make that possible? My father borrowed against the already ridiculous mortgage knowing he'd have to work for at least ten years beyond retirement age, and I've never once seen him complain.

Regardless, is my father's hard work and my mother's unremitting sacrifice to her family and their well-being no longer valid because they emerge from a position of privilege? And I know this is going to sound ridiculous, but my parents didn't always have this position -- things weren't handed to them on silver platters. My father's first job after college was essentially crunching numbers and grunt work in NYC. My mother put herself through college by working two jobs (waitress and sales clerk) --- and no, she didn't have a spacious apartment, either. Yes, they're white and therefore not subject to the racism that unfortunately pervades America. But no one, knowing my mother's story in particular, would say she came from a place of privilege.

As I've written this I realize that I, too, have succumbed -- I've played up the "working class values" of my family in order to demonstrate my membership in this elite club. I feel hypocritical; I never set out to do this. All I set out to do in this post was to question the obligation to a project of r/c/g, and to show that my voice has been essentially erased as uncritical, unenlightened, and just plain wrong, all because of my background. Isn't that what we're trying to work against?

Please, dear readers, do not take this as my attempt at a sob story, aligning myself with the truly disenfranchised. I recognize all too well that I'm extraordinarily privileged and lucky. But I do think it's worth reexamining how we're silencing the voices that come to the table.