Moved, go here.
Moved, go here.
Moved, go here.
“I pulled myself up by my bootstraps, and all I got was this chip on my shoulder”: Uplift, Downsizing, and Other Changes of Class
So it turns out I’m really bad at taking notes. Basically I jotted down bits and pieces that interested me, and a bunch of quotes with no attributions. I don’t know what I thought this would accomplish. But here’s what I wrote down. This is in no way a complete record of what was discussed, and I’m sorry for all the gaps, because it was an amazing discussion.
Moderator: Alexis Lothian
Panelists: Julie Hayes, Kiini Salaam, Fred Schepartz, Vanessa Vega
A big question is about identity: is it something that doesn’t shift at all?
Here, Kiini described the idea of growing up with a lower class background but middle class norms and expectations (such as expectations of going to college). (This was fascinating to me, because it actually describes my own experience growing up, but it’s not something I’ve ever heard articulated before.)
Three kinds of capital are articulated:
- Social — your network, who you know, what connections you have
- Cultural — reading (being literate, encouraged/read to by parents, etc)
- Economic — my notes just say “duh” as a description of this
You’re defined by class if you’re at the bottom or the top of the hierarchy. The problem with being at the bottom is not having any choices; the problem at the top is being extremely out of touch.
The idea of authenticity and people denying the privileges they do have as a way to feel or seem more authentic. Vanessa describes the frustration of seeing people (especially artists) decide to “make it on their own” when they still have a safety net, and what it’s like watching that as someone who doesn’t have that net at all. There’s a grandiose notion that being poor is artistic.
Quote: “Economic capital provides access.”
What can’t you escape when you change class?
- When you’re moving down, you’re used to having things, growing up middle class leaves you racking up debt.
- Skills: there are poor person skills (self-sufficiency, resourcefulness) and rich person skills that come down to your understanding of the world.
Quote: “The most dangerous part of class is the mental mindset.” (Kiini)
Quote: “Class is really a weapon.”
Class is used to destroy a community, and that community is then described as “low class.”
Quote: “My experiences of poverty are extremely privileged experiences of poverty.” (Alexis) (This was another thing I identified with but had never heard articulated before.)
Quote (on growing up having moved up a class): “I always feel like I’m less than.” (Julie) (Another on the “my experiences” list.)
Quote: “Having a British accent in the U.S. is like having white privilege cubed.” (Alexis, who got a laugh in response)
Q: How much of the current class struggles are based on bootstrap ideology?
A: “America’s new favorite pastime is judging.” (Julie)
Q: What about internal vs. external experiences of class?
A: “Class is about relationships.” — between you and your community, you and money, you and other people.
“You must have boots to pull yourself up by your bootstraps.” (I think this was an audience member, but I’m not positive.)
“Class is a construct. Constructed by those who have, to keep the rest of us from having.” (Definitely from the audience.)
So those are my notes, such as they are. I’m extremely grateful that this panel existed and glad I was at it, because, as I noted a few times above, there was a lot of stuff there that I experienced and identified with.1 I think class, more than anything else, was my entry point into awareness and caring, and my attempts to be an ally against oppression.2 But basically: class isn’t something that’s talked about a lot in this country, and hearing other people validate my experiences was incredibly valuable to me.
- Someday I might write a massive personal post here about my own experiences jumping from a tiny, rural, working class town to attending Brandeis to living in New York. …actually, knowing me, I probably won’t write this, but I do think about it a lot and those changes very much shaped me. ↩
- It’s odd, because you’d think feminism would be that key for me, but I don’t remember a time before I knew what feminism was, why it was important, or before I actively identified as a feminist. Thanks, awesome family! But class was not something on my radar until college, and then I had no vocabulary to articulate my experiences; learning what the hell happened opened me up not only to that, but to other people’s experiences as well, so… ↩
Once upon a time, six-ish years ago when I was but a wee terrible blogger, I began lurking in feminist SF/F communities, because I could barely believe that such things existed. And as I was lurking about, I heard about this thing called WisCon. It was a whole, real life, actual convention, just for feminist science fiction. I fell in love with the idea. I read tons of blog entries about it and decided that someday, finances allowing, I would go.
And I did.
Last year. I just never mentioned it here.
Worst blogger ever.
But I also went this year! And have just returned! And it was great! And oh man, am I tired.
I took notes at most of the panels I was at, and, assuming my notes are at all coherent, will attempt to turn them into blog posts soonish.1 For now, here are scattered, overall thoughts about the con:
1. The people are awesome. I’m super lucky in that one of my best friends lives in Madison, and she was happy to put up me and a couple of our other besties throughout the con (both years!). But I also met tons of people I probably wouldn’t have otherwise. I kept in touch through the year mostly by way of twitter, and when we got to the con on Friday, running into people was like coming back to summer camp and seeing the whole summer crew after a year of boring school. But better, because unlike summer camp, no one tried to tell me coffee was just for grown ups.2
And what’s great is that going to WisCon is like finding my people. There’s a core of shared interest among basically everyone there, so even if you don’t all have the same exact interests, it’s still refreshing to be around people who won’t bat an eyelash at how excited you are over whatever it is that you love. I wear my nerdy fangirl tendencies on my sleeve3 and it’s lovely to be surrounded by others who do, too.
2. The quiet room. I fell in love with it. It’s exactly what it sounds like: a dim room with nothing going on, where you can sit quietly and recharge if, say, you’re coming off of a night with only four hours of sleep, your day began at 6:30 AM, and won’t end until 1 in the morning. Or if you’re an introvert who’s been surrounded by people for a couple of days and you need a break. (Or, in my case, both.) I spent a few hours chilling out in the quiet room through the course of the weekend, and am deeply grateful it existed. I don’t have any real con experiences to compare WisCon to, but I get the impression WisCon organizers go out of their way to make the con as accessible as possible, and it shows.
3. I wish I had a time turner. Seriously, you guys, I can’t even convey how agonizing the choice between “But It’s Not For Girls,” “Geek Girls and the Problem of Self Objectification,” and “Feminism and the YA Explosion,” was. The programming is vast and varied, with different tracks that suit different people’s interests. There was tons of programming on class and race (both within science fiction and generally), panels on comic books and novels, academic discussions and readings, and tons more. There were a lot of things that sounded fascinating that I couldn’t get to due to conflicts with other things that sounded fascinating.
And now I feel like I should conclude this blog entry, but here’s the thing: I just got home from an awesome con. I need to go to bed. More (hopefully) soon.
Moved, go here.
Moved, go here.
Moved, go here.
Moved, go here.
You know how some people get wanderlust, and just have to move, or find a new job, or make a massive life change every few years to stem off boredom? I’m not generally one of them. Except with this blog, which is now on its third home. Whew.
“But Becky!” you might cry. “Isn’t moving your blog without bothering to set up some form of redirect pretty much the worst way to build up or maintain an audience of actual readers?”
To which I would say, “Thank you for being so concerned! But no. The worst way to do that, I suspect, is actually to only update twice in one year.” Then I would probably pause and think about it, and say, “Oops.”
So if you’ve found me somehow, hello! Nearly all of my old, old, old blog entries have made the leap, except for some that were so embarrassingly earnest that I winced upon rereading and decided the internet didn’t really need to see them any more.
As for what happens now, well, if I were the sort of person who made a lot of New Years resolutions, I’d almost definitely have resolved to blog more. But I’ve had various online journals since roughly 1998, and history indicates pretty strongly that I’m not cut out to be a regular blogger. I’m okay with that, but it’s why I wanted to downsize from a blog that was a whole domain, to this little personal site. Rebecca-Allen.net still exists for my online professional life, but this new space feels much smaller and cozier, like a return to my old Geocities collective of web projects, albeit with less Sailor Moon fanfiction.
So anyhoo: if you’re reading the RSS feed, click on over! I’ve got a lovely new template up and running and relentlessly tweaked. We’ll see how long it lasts before I decide I hate it.
And to get things started on the right foot, here is a picture of my cat: