blur

Class is different from other identities: it’s invisible, nuanced, and people generally don’t like to talk about it. This is because class is also powerful. It divides real people into the categories of “worthy” and “unworthy” of basic necessities. Poor people are socially motivated to be too ashamed — not proud — to identify as poor because of the many ramifications that accompany it, and wealthy people are uncomfortable with their desirable comfort.   Class is powerful for another reason: it shapes how we view and in turn treat groups of people. Class structurally disenfranchises and criminalizes marginalized communities: it’s how anti-Black and anti-Latinx racism, transphobia, misogyny, and nearly every other kind of oppression legally operate and take real form.   That’s why it’s necessary to treat class how we treat race, color, gender, and sexuality. But first, we need to start by talking about it. (Checking your class privilege once is like saying “I’m a white male—I have privilege,” and stopping there.) We need to have an ongoing, honest conversation and not abuse the ways in which we self-identify for our own benefit.   Our community has a phobia of privilege — especially when it’s ours. Because privilege isn’t cool anymore, we’re taking great measures to downplay ours and only selectively highlight the ways in which we’re oppressed. Because class is relatively invisible and awkward, it’s easiest to hide — especially when we’re marginalized in other ways.    When we talk about overthrowing capitalism, or Marxist theory, or identifying ourselves and spaces we occupy as “anti-capitalist,” we can’t not talk about our own class. When we self-righteously sneer at others to check their privilege, we have to check our own, repeatedly, not just once, even if it makes us uncomfortable.