We have a happy knack for always finding someone to point to as richer than ourselves. I don’t know what spurs us on to do it. Self-deprecation, or something more sinister? Perhaps we cannot accept our own privileges. We feel the need to explain them away, brush them under the carpet, as though it were the polite thing to do. I was reading an article in the Guardian the other day. They were interviewing a local Kensington resident about the sale of 2-8 Rutland Gate, famously the most expensive property in Britain. This local resident was questioned about their home in a neighbouring property; they said, ‘I’m only here because my much-richer boyfriend owns a flat’. It’s a seemingly innocuous comment.
However, his dismissal of the question stood out to me because it seemed to imply he didn’t belong there. As though he wasn’t as privileged as he appears. As though he were just the same as us normal folk, who don’t live on one of the most expensive streets in the country. His comment had the opposite effect on me. Do you mean to tell me you got such an exclusive postcode for free, simply because you happen to have an extremely wealthy partner?! The privilege knows no bounds.
Everyone who lives in expensive parts of London, goes on fancy holidays, or regularly shops in Waitrose, seems to have a way of explaining their wealth away. We were fortunate with the stamp duty. Oh no, we had airmiles on our Amex that needed to be used up. Ah yes, we only go there for the great deals on fresh bread. Little do they know that their protestations make them sound even more middle-class than when they started the conversation. Because having Amex, or being able to buy a house, or even simply caring about the quality of the bread you consume, marks you out as pretty damn privileged.
No one wants to be seen as systemically advantaged. Everyone wants to be seen as more ordinary than they are, although no one would ever admit to it. I’ll admit, I went through a phase as a teenager when I wanted to be more working class than I am. I thought that I had to struggle. Little did fourteen-year-old me know how fucking nauseating that must’ve been to everyone around me. I grew out of it when I went to university, and realised how far I was trailing behind my classmates. After that, I went to great lengths to conceal anything even remotely ordinary about myself. I wanted to swill wine in Borough market and go to Lake Como regularly, just like all the rest of them.
Most of us have become more socially aware over the past decade or so. As this has happened, we seem all the keener to look upwards. Not at multi-millionaires and billionaires, although we do that too - and I completely agree with their position as general societal scapegoats. But no, most of the time we feel the need to point to those around us, whether they work alongside us or live on the next street over, as a way of disavowing our own privilege. They drive a Range Rover, therefore I must be relatively poor with my Volvo, that kind of thing. I’m going away twice this year, but my friend is going away three times, so I must be really hard done by.
I’m not laying blame on anyone, just pointing it out. I think it’s helpful to examine our knee-jerk reactions to things. They say that those who flaunt wealth never really truly have it. It’s very nouveau riche behaviour, you see. As a truly wealthy person, you must pretend that what’s staring everyone in the face isn’t truly there. I understand that attitude – obviously, I’m not saying that you should be driving around in a gold-plated Range Rover just because you can afford it, and bragging about the interest rate you have on your offshore account in Guatemala.
However, I think it’s wrong to explain away your wealth, as though you’re the normal one. It can only make those who have less financial power feel inferior. We should always be able to acknowledge that our education and upbringing, the savings we got from XYZ relative, and the gap year our father paid for as long as we got the A-Level results he was expecting, contributed to who we are today. It's refreshing when people own it. It makes societal inequalities more visible, which is progress at least.
If inequalities are not made more visible, people will continue to believe they don’t exist. It’s one of the main problems in the UK; our inability to accept that class is still a defining factor in our lives. It’s like New Labour came in twenty-five years ago, and now everyone thinks we’re all monetarily equal. As if going to private school has made absolutely no difference to your earning potential whatsoever. As though you’ve just worked hard to get there. Pull the other one.
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