On Capital, sort of.

The 99%: "Money Can't Buy You Class"

Social Commentary post by GretchenSisson, Submitted by GretchenSisson on December 5, 2011 - 12:24pm;tagged Beverly Hills, Gossip Girl, inequality, Real Housewives, Wealth.

A very special thank you to the Countess LuAnn of the Real Housewives of New York for supplying the title to today’s post.  I doubt this is what the Countess was going for, but she brings up a good point: what’s the difference between having money and having class privilege?  Is there one anymore?

There’s always been the concept of “old money” and “new money,” and the former seems to spend a good deal of time spurning the latter until begrudgingly accepting them—usually when newer money comes along.  In fact, when Caroline Schermerhorn married William Astor in 1854, this was a marriage of old and new money.  Caroline brought to the marriage old New York Knickerbocker stock (this is where the New York Knicks get their name from) and William Astor brought the new real estate money.  The Astors were now “old” money, and would be allowed to look down their noses at the upstart Vanderbilts with their tacky railroads.

But do these lines between old and new money ever really go away?  The Beverly Hillbillies of the 1960s showed us an unsophisticated rural family transplanted into swanky Beverly Hills after oil is found on their land.  Are they accepted by their neighbors? No, obviously not. But their tight-knit family and clearly voiced morals place them as superior to their rich, superficial neighbors.  If upward mobility won’t get you accepted by the people with money, well, that’s OK—did you really want to be like them anyway?

Even on Gossip Girl, ruling prep school princess and over-achiever Blair Waldorf is portrayed as a bit of an upstart because both of her parents have earned, rather than inherited, their money (like Serena’s parents did).  As Jenny (who lives in Brooklyn, takes the subway to school, and makes her own clothes, so is clearly “poor”) tells Blair in season two:  “You might be privileged, Blair, but you work for every single thing you’ve achieved. Like me. Serena just glides through.”

What’s really going on here?

Well, the Countess has a point.  Class privilege is something different from having money, even though having money can take you pretty far. (And it should go without saying that class privilege is connected to race privilege—people of color don't have the same opportunities or experiences as white people, regardless of how wealthy they are.)

Sociologist Pierre Bourdieu was one of the first to spell out how class privilege really comes from different kinds of capital.  There’s the obvious kind: economic capital, cash money, the stuff that gives you purchasing power and freedom from having to worry about how to pay rent, your heating bill, and your student loans.  

Then there’s social capital.  This is your network: who you know, who your parents know.  Unsurprisingly, if you go to a fancy prep school with the grandsons of Congressmen and the daughters of business leaders, you have pretty darn high social capital.  You have easier access to sources of power, which means you have more power and privilege.

Finally, there’s cultural capital.  This form of capital is not who you know, but what you know about how to succeed in the culture you live in.  (It can also include what you own, based on what you purchased because of what you know.)  So, if you’re well educated, and you read the right books, know the right artists, own the right gadgets, watch the right TV shows, can name the right designers, speak with the right accent, and eat with the right fork—well, that’s a form of privilege all on its own.  Middle-class families can be really, really good at giving their children lots of cultural capital, even when they lack economic and social capital.

I’m opening my series with this little sociology refresher so that, as you (hopefully) read on, you understand what I mean when I refer to class privilege, and you can think about what kinds of privilege different characters in pop culture might have and where they got it.  Additionally, when we talk about social mobility, we might wonder with kinds of capital are most important to that mobility.  Because, really, we’re not just talking about money.

source: Bitch Magazine 

Truth, Lies and the In-Between

Is there a disparity between who you are and who you present yourself as?
I've been wondering that a lot lately.
It's interesting. I've recently become close with a girl whom I was introduced to by a mutual friend. We share the same group of friends, for the most part. People often ask her why she's friends with me. She's confused by that question.
I'm confused as well.
And it's been making me wonder what the perception of me is in the social circles that I run in.
Of course, I try to follow the golden rules: acting to others as I'd like to be treated, trying not to do a terrible amount of gossip, kindness, respect, loyalty, etc.
But that's where things get gray.
Everyone thinks that what they're doing is correct.
Of course, I was watching reality television when I came to that conclusion. The Real Housewives series is a showcase of points of view. Since you see the drama unfold and then hear interviews that reflect the opinions of the participants, you get a glimpse of the ways that conflict operates. Of course, there's great truth in the idea that there are always three sides to the truth: yours, theirs, and the real truth. And I've come to the conclusion that no one knows the real truth about anything. Watching the housewives talk about their dramas, I find my sympathies rarely change but that sometimes, I'm not even sure who I want to sympathize with. Instead, I watch their impending arguments with fascination. Each is convinced that her opinion is correct.
One was lauding the fact that her son was in law school, yet I read in a law blog yesterday that he'd been kicked out for being unable to pass. Her reaction? To criticize the school for being unable to handle his learning disabilities. The blog's response? "And given that the practice of law involves lots of learning, maybe it’s best that those with JDs not have LDs." I can see both sides of that argument. Who can't? There are things I'd like to do with my life, but won't because I know I lack the skill set. Doing crime scene investigation and evidence-analysis? My dream job. But I can't because I lack the mathematical prowess.   

I'd like to merge the truths that I feel about myself with the truths that people feel about me. I know that everyone feels differently about everyone based on their situational relevance and proximity, but I would hope that someday I may merge all thoughts about me as a person in order to create a singular image of a composed, classy (but still fun), irreverent, intelligent, feisty woman. However, if anything, this has served as a wake up call to me that I need to reach out to the people around me and work on revealing my inner self rather than working on projecting something that may be an inaccurate reflection of myself.

My blog the other day received some criticism that I welcomed, although I was unsure as to how it fit into the scheme of the thought process. I had been intending for that particular post to be a contrite look at a past situation by analyzing and comparing it to a more recent situation. I wanted to show personal growth and make amends, even though those amends won't be heard by those who need to hear them.
However, rather than let the commentary do anything other than annoy me, I will say one thing: when you're going to call someone stupid on the internet, please make sure you do so after correcting your grammatical errors. It increases the power of your argument tenfold.

Think about whether or not your actions support the outward image that you wish to present. Obviously, that image might be different based on different situations, but if the end goal is respect, then hopefully even your less savory experiences (such as Friday nights out) might reflect your ability to support friends.
Today I was a better listener. That's been a big goal for me. Listening is really hard for me, because I'm always brimming with information that I want to share. Today, I was quiet and I supported my friend while she talked.
See? Working on it.

"Money can't buy you class" and other assorted random things

Two posts in a day, be sure to scroll down for pictures of the Mustache Bash bar crawl from Saturday.

I've been getting back into fiction lately. I went to the local library (where I'm not yet banned and don't owe them large sums of money. Going to miss that small freedom once I get back to Denver) and got some books last week. Ah, the oppressive stacks of the cramped space reminded me of my youth, when I was quite a bit smaller and not as tall. I made an effort to look at the titles near the floor, but it was impossible to do. But I ended up picking out four hardcover books. Hardcover to remind myself what literature really is. The crinkle of that plastic wrap is a magical, comforting sound to my over-auto-tune-subjected ears. Two murder mysteries (um, because that is what I do best), a book by John Connelly called The Gates, and then Clinton Kelly's fabulous etiquette book. Thus far, I've consumed The Gates and the fabulous book about being fabulous, which I enjoyed, but was thoroughly relieved I'd not spent any actual money on it. I enjoyed The Gates immensely. It was light-hearted, even though it was about Hell.

But it's been making me realize that I should be writing. Seriously. I need to up the English levels on my blog. I need to stop writing such melodramatic trash so that you're convinced you're not following some sort of soap opera. Instead, I shall focus on social issues that I care about and whatever else I can drum up. Hence the teen pregnancy allusion in the last post. I will get to it. And when I do, you will come away astounded. (Not by teen pregnancy, hopefully. There's really not much about it that might astound.) But I'm going to be a real (and by real, I mean completely amateur, un-official, writing from my apartment) journalist about this and do some research. You know, get the real facts before I spout off about stuff that no one really needs  to know.

I finally took the cover off of my laptop because I'm convinced it's scratching my laptop more than it would be scratched had it remained uncovered. I'm in the market for a new case as of tomorrow, so perhaps a stop off at the Apple store is in order. I'd also like to check out the iPad, in case we do end up going to South Africa.

Um, did I mention the applications and deposits have been submitted? WE ARE GOING TO SOUTH AFRICA (most likely)! I couldn't be more thrilled. I'm terrified, obviously, as I am about to embark on a mission deep into the unknown, however, I think that when it's all said and done, my life will have been irrevocably changed. For the better, hopefully. Unless I'm not. But we can deal with that at some later point. But The Economist seems to be on my side. My mailbox today was full of a fourteen-page special report on South Africa, which I will read on the train tomorrow and report back on. I enjoy their coverage. I am keeping my subscription to their magazine, partially because I think the British spellings are cute.

Also, it's not "for all intensive purposes." It's "for all intents and purposes." I feel like an idiot. I want to issue an open apology to anyone I may have grammatically offended over the years. Just so you know.

The title of this post is in reference to a song, if it can be called that, sung by an over-privileged woman from New York (she's on the Real Housewives, a show I can't get enough of). It's a horrible mess of song but it's hilarious and catchy but not in a good way. Catchy in that it'll be stuck in your head all day and you'll be wishing for anything else. Even a Rickroll would be nice about now.
And on that note: a really bad song sung by a really annoying woman

I've realized that one of the things I love about my cat is the way he sighs. It's so adorable. One thing I wildly disapprove of is his need to go bolting out the front door when I open it. Lame. Chasing him down the stairs seems to be his favorite game.