A Reflection on Class and Gender

A Reflection on Class and Gender

Recently I was getting my daughter ready for school. I teach a section of first year seminar on Friday mornings and could not chance being late. As I was reminding her that she needed to stay focused on getting ready, she asked “What are you going to teach today Mom? Is it long division?” Since I am responsible for our student conduct processes, my nine year old sees my administrative position as similar to her principal. It is an age appropriate analogy. When it comes to teaching, she has a hard time understanding that I would teach anything different than what she learns. I told her that today we would be discussing social identities which led to me a brief explanation in relatable terms for a nine year old. For the most part, she got it. I was proud. After I finished my explanation, I asked her if she had any questions.  Only one crossed her lips. “You aren’t going to tell them about our money, are you?” I said that yes, we would be talking about class and different types of economic backgrounds.  She replied, “I don’t know what that word means, but they will probably have more money than us. That’s awkward.” I wished that we had more time that morning to talk about what she was thinking, but the message was clear. She thought we should be embarrassed if my students came from homes that had more and we had less.

I grew up in a working class neighborhood in Southwest Philadelphia with people of fairly similar financial means. Most parents worked, some very long hours, and while there were times that surely were more financially difficult than others, families managed either on their own or with some form of government assistance.  The message was clear and it said, “If you work hard enough, you will have enough.” I was not completely oblivious that there were others who were struggling to make it and those who had less, much less.  There was enough, there was less, but I never remember thinking about there being more.

As I reflect, I remember the first time “more” swept into my consciousness and felt real to me. The memory is still as crisp and as clear as they day it took place. It was the day that I left home and moved into college. In fact, I can still feel a tinge of the burn of shame that crept up the back of my neck and onto my ears. It was the “awkward” that worried my daughter. As a new student, move-in day was a mix of excitement and sadness.  The first person in my family to leave for college, it felt like I was stepping out into the great unknown.

In her book, Inside the College Gates: How Class and Culture Matter in Higher Education, Jenny M. Stuber (2011) writes of her own experience moving into college, “The fall of my freshman year, my mother and I pulled up to the Bobb-McCulloch residence hall in our rusty, ocher-colored Chevy Caprice. As we unloaded my possessions, including the new floral comforter set she had given me as a graduation gift, I knew instantly that I was different from my college peers” (p. 25). I knew as I crossed the threshold of my residence hall room that I was different. My roommate and I were from the same race, same religious background and same gender identity, but from different social classes. It was clear in our appearance, how our families carried themselves, the way we talked, and what we brought with us to our new room. I had enough. She had more. 

While twenty years have passed since that moment, social class is still a very salient part of my identity.  As a student affairs professional, I often process how class intersects with my gender and the impact that it has on my personal and professional development. I know that my family is very fortunate. We have enough. We have a home, food on the table, employment, transportation and access to education. There are many aspects of privilege that operate in our lives. But, like many, our financial resources are limited. As a profession, we are vocal about social justice and inclusivity and we know we have much work to do.  Yet when we talk about personal financial resources, it appears to me that we often limit ourselves by centering that dialogue on graduate students and new professionals. In many of the mid-level professional development dialogues that I have taken part, we are missing the mark in our discussions about class. Maybe I have missed something, but most times I hear professional development advice directed towards women by other women that makes the voice inside my head say, “Only if you can afford it.”

• “Dress for the position you want to be in, not your current role.” Makes an assumption that you can afford to jump a pay grade in your spending.
• “Being a mom, work life balance is hard. It is important to schedule wellness time.” Last time I checked most massage therapists were not free.  
• “Be sure to get a great sitter you can rely on.  As you move up into leadership positions at your college or university, you will need to be visible at night or weekend meetings and events.  It is important to be present for high level functions.” Assumes that you have an endless child care budget and can also afford the cost of attending those highly priced ticketed events.

These comments and related microagressions seem to consistently come up year after year when I seek out conference sessions or attend programs centered on professional development for women at the mid-level.

A colleague once remarked at the constant pull in our profession to “pass” as someone from another social class while attending conferences and networking events. I know that she is not alone in her experience. “Social class worldviews are constructed through both understanding of one’s own class position and understandings of the positions of others” (Stuber, 2011, p. 128). As our profession continues to strive towards inclusiveness, multicultural competence, and equity, I hope that our dialogues and our actions will become increasingly open to discussing class and examining the class dynamics at our college and universities and our professional circles and associations.  It is needed for us and for our students.

Stuber, J.M. (2011). Inside the college gates: How class and culture matter in higher education. New

                  York, NY: Lexington Books.

Bridget A. Haines-Frank

Assistant Dean of Students

Immaculata University