'Why I don't call myself working class'
By Lilly Driscoll
There seems to be a new article every couple of months about the class system in the UK; more specifically the structure of class within the arts.
And maybe this is just another one of those articles... Tell me at the end.
Scrolling past #toriesarescum tweets happily when you see yet another article about class; followed by a healthy dose of lip service. Or (more likely from bigger venues/corporations) silence.
Again the labour is frequently put upon those of us that grew up with very little, to comment. To take the burden and call out the industry for what it is, elite.
I for one don't identify as working class because quite frankly, when I was growing up nobody was working. The term 'working class' is becoming more and more diluted. Friends will often argue with you at parties, wanting to relate by telling you how working class they are.
You will go on a date with someone who will tell you all about their grandad who worked down a mine.
Someone who went to private school will tell you how their grandparents struggled to make ends meet, and although they never personally struggled they really understand what it is to be working class.
And really... being in the arts is like being working class right?
Again I'm arguing, and for what? To compare notes? To see who had it worse. While they aim for kinship, I am forced in to an argument with a person claiming they're not privileged. Waiting for them to see beyond their desire to not be considered middle class.
And yeah, it's nuanced, but I shouldn't have to bring up my trauma to justify my standpoint on the matter. I shouldn't have to tell you that technically, on an equal opportunity's form when you put down that at the age of 14 your mum was a teacher and your dad was a cabby, is very different to my dad not being alive and my mum being in rehab. But yet, here we are. Again.
Often the differences will seem subtle. Too subtle to distinguish. But the difference is you getting a summer holiday down your caravan, or going Butlins, and us going well…nowhere. Learning to drive by the time you're 17 and getting a secondhand Ford fiesta. When we can't even afford lessons.
The differences are rarely talked about, and if we bring them up we look like we're comparing, or competing with you. Often these admissions are still clouded in shame. So we stay silent and say things like yeah, maybe one day I'll learn.
I don't want to be that person. I don't want to compare, or for every discussion about class to lead to an argument. I want people to know the difference. Because it is exhausting.
If you were properly provided for and emotionally supported growing up, you are privileged. In a very real way. Some of us do not know what it is to have that support. Emotional support rarely gets mentioned in the class debate.
Those that get taken to auditions, whose parents found out about BRIT school, or put them in any club they could find in the local area. Those that paid for your Spotlight, or drama school auditions, or even tell you drama school is an option. These are just some of the things that often get overlooked.
Take ownership of your story, because everyone has one. And if yours hasn't been one of hardship, own it. Stop drawing at straws in a desperate attempt to be edgy.
Wearing a tracksuit does not equate to a working class lifestyle.
Before anyone thinks it, this isn't an attempt to call out anyone who is working class. Working class people take up a tiny percentage of the industry and that needs to change.
What I want to highlight is the fact that those of us from lower socio economic backgrounds often feel invisible. Like nobody sees us at all, because we're very rarely part of the conversation. There are no statistics for us.
And what do we call ourselves? Benefit class? I personally have issues with the term. It's accurate, but it's also quite triggering.
Criminal class? Again, feels problematic. And surely only leads to more unwanted questions. What do I say when someone calls me working class? I say yeah sure. "Working class gal done good." Thanks pal.
We talk and go to panels and get new articles and think pieces, but when will we see actual change? Progressive change. Change that feels meaningful. If the gate keepers actually did something radical, maybe I wouldn't be getting asked these questions at parties. Perhaps the narrative would change.
Then again, it could just make it worse. We’re all working class after all, aren’t we?
Personally…it's a risk I'm willing to take.
Let's talk: for the arts to really diversify, every intersection must be included in that conversation. Sadly there's still a huge part of society who are being underrepresented. Yet those with more often feel like they're being deprived of something; something they've always expected. Always had. Because they were never told they couldn't do it, or couldn't have it.
Whereas, I label myself lucky to even get in to a room. To be seen and still be working despite my lack of formal training. 15+ years of hard work and very little support shouldn't ever be labelled as luck.
Yes we need to keep a dialogue going, but what we desperately need is action.
So how is this article any different from the others? Well, you tell me.
How do we change a system that we have no ownership in?
A suggestion or two perhaps:
Joint Artistic Directors. Not one guy in boot-cut jeans who's been in the same building since flares were in fashion. (I know, I know they’re coming back. Not in my house)
Community outreach. I don't know where or why this ever got forgotten about. If you're not making art for your community, who are you making it for?
Hire someone who is from a low socio-economic background. Have them on your team. Employ them. Pay them. Safeguard them. Listen… just listen to them.
Employ someone who genuinely cares about well-being. Who specialises in it. Train your staff properly. We need to look after each other.
There is money being raised for people just like me, but will I ever see it? I often think not.
And what about the younger me? The me that has no family support, no-one to tell them where their audition is, or what arts organisations offer support. Where do they fit in to these conversations?
Let's stop the pleasantries. Let's call it quits with the unpaid labour. If you actually want to bring about change, employ us.