too big for my britches
I’ve been debating whether to file posts reflecting on my experience grappling with class in the History of American Money Values Series or in the My Life Unscrambled thread. Reflecting on my experience from a sociological point of view detracts from a straight telling of the story, but I believe class is part of this particular story so it seems right to talk about it here.
It is extremely difficult to talk intelligently about class in the United States because while there is not widespread agreement about what constitutes the different levels of class hierarchy, there is widespread controversy regarding the values and cultural norms attributed to these fuzzy layers. We all know the layers are there and we form negative or positive opinions of them based on our perception of their distinctive values and norms as we encounter and interpret them from our understanding. My understanding is subjective, not objective, but for the sake of getting on with the story I’m not going to keep qualifying my point of view. From here on, I will write as if I know what I’m talking about (even though of course I don’t).
A solidly middle class situation is one in which daily family life emphasizes development above obedience and in which there is at least the hope, if not the expectation, of higher education for children. The solidly middle class has educational aspirations for its children, yet is familiar and comfortable with vocational paths. The solidly middle class is not ashamed of aspiring.
It’s hard to say whether my background was working class or middle class or borderline but it was certainly not solidly middle class.
I would not have become so keenly aware of class had it not been for my experience living in Great Neck and going to high school with peers obsessively focused on getting into great colleges and universities. At the time, Great Neck, NY was demographically way over 50% Jewish. I think it may been 85% but don’t quote me. My friends were very busy striving and achieving, in many cases passing their parents by leaps and bounds. Kids didn’t apologize, parents didn’t criticize. I had no idea at the time that this striving was sometimes characterized by anti-Semites as a grab for power. I also did not know that questioning the motives of some of my friends who were mostly after power–by self admission–would trigger the accusation of me being an anti-Semite.
I learned to shut up, listen and observe. I kept a gazillion questions to myself. What are my friends striving for? Why does reflecting back a comment about striving for power trigger a knee jerk response? It’s not that I had a clue anything was wrong with seeking power–just that I could sense its importance and wondered about that. I was a student of a culture I admired and wanted to be part of in the worst way. As I made banana splits at Friendly’s on weekends, friends at one end of the culture spectrum took the train to Manhattan for music lessons at the Manhattan School of Music while friends at the other end shopped for expensive dresses to wear to parties. I watched and collected observations and questions.
I know I said I’d say no more about my parents but need to make this one reference in passing. The photo above is one taken of me during the time I lived in Great Neck at the Episcopal rectory but was at my mother’s for a brief visit. It was her idea to take the photo. At the time I had no discretionary income for cool clothes, but wanted to fit in with my friends and was pretty good at sewing. In those days, you could actually acquire patterns and fabric inexpensively. I made the dress and felt sophisticated wearing it. My mother sensed that I felt sophisticated wearing it and perceived this as an affront. In the ensuing years, during visits (as recently as a few years ago), she would speak of this photo in its absentia (it usually wasn’t worth dragging out the photo album) to friends or new boyfriends (of mine) or other family members, recalling the details of my expression, the way my hands were crossed in my lap, the fiery look in my eyes.
She described the photo in a way that totally embarrassed me. It’s not that she said “to the manor born” or “putting on airs” to me directly, but I had heard family members make those quotes at times and somehow understood that in wearing that dress, slinging my arms just so, I was being “too big for my britches,” another family quote.
When I look at this photo now what I see is a young woman wanting to feel pretty and fit in with her friends. I had no concept of this being a radical act.
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Is it just my imagination or are a lot of us memoirists Episcopalians?
One of my favorite books on class talks a lot about who the middle class is the class of aspiration. As I am from the middle-class I don’t know any other way than to aspire.
I wonder if the reaction you got from your mother or those who thought you were “too big for your…” came from their own insecurities about not being where they wanted to be and maybe that they envied your self-made sophistication.
xo
It does seem many of us are Episcopalians. I wonder if it’s got something to do with liking to reflect on the bigger picture.
Now I want to know the title of this book on middle class — I’ll send a tweet.
I probably should have developed the idea more that it can be difficult to change your class of origin because your family and friends may send signals about not crossing the line. In my experience members of each class layer reinforce membership with these kinds of messages.
Somewhere along the way, I realized that my family expected me to aspire, but resented me for it.
I still sense a certain rolling of the eyes when my mother asks “so how is the book coming along?”
Lisa, what I remember is the expectation of succeeding but doing so without any kind of pretensions though I’m still not sure exactly which pursuits were considered pretentious. I think academic aspirations were suspect — and certainly pursuing writing as a career. Anything that might put one in the position of feeling self important. In my family of origin the phrase “just be yourself” was used a lot and in a way that meant you ought to carefully avoid any pursuit that might give you “a big head” and thus need to be taken down a notch or two. Garrison Keillor writes about this. I think it’s Midwestern.
Susan, I love the dress. It is pretty. And you don’t look “too big for your britches” at all to me. I see just a normal adolescent, a bit insecure, with that look they sometimes have, as if the enthusiasm and Life will spill over with just the slightest nudge of encouragement. There is also, I perceive, a lurking power in that gaze.
But maybe I read too much into a photo.
Class was a mixed up subject in my household b/c my dad actually was to the manor born and defied the rules by marrying a poor-as-dirt farmer’s daughter. It was such a transgression that family legend says my aristocratic grandmother refused to allow my mother to enter the home at first, and attempted to push my mother down the grand old staircase to the mansion, which would have had pretty dire consequences if Daddy hadn’t caught her. I received so many different messages about money and class, I can’t even separate them out now. I *do* think the middle class is the sweet spot for not being forced by circumstances into extremely narrow, confining roles.
Meredith, aha! I did not see the power but I know that I felt powerful at some level despite all of the screwed up insecurities. Maybe power looks like defiance to the onlooker?
Wow I totally agree that the middle class is the sweet spot but I like to think that part of what makes it so is that you are free to stay where you are or maybe even take a non-traditional path but are also free to aspire upward without apologizing. It seems the most forgiving layer in the US class layer cake, encouraging children to seek the place that’s best for them.
I am curious though how solidly middle class families handle it when a child does aspire to the professional or elite class and is suddenly in that milieu. Is it a point of contention or pride. I wonder.
In my experience with the affluent NY Jewish culture, this seemed to be handled by creating an elite subculture, i.e., not even trying to gain admittance to the traditional WASP world but creating a parallel elite world that retains some of the nuances of the middle class sweet spot while also comfortably moving and shaking with the powerful.
This is so interesting to me!
Thanks so much for your lovely comment.
And you shouldn’t have, Susan. The dress is lovely and you look lovely in it.
As an old hand with needle and thread, I know a good piece of sewing when I see it, which is your dress. It’s interesting how everyone sewed so much years ago and now it’s completely finito.
Your writing is compelling here and it makes me wonder why I didn’t think about class more at a young age, considering that in eighth grade I moved with my family from a lower class, industrial city neighborhood to a middle class neighborhood in an affluent suburban town where my first friend was a senator’s daughter. One minute I was running wild in back city alleys and the next sitting pool-side at country clubs.
But there was no you’re getting too big for your britches thing at home. It was assumed we’d go farther than our parents, just as they had gone farther than theirs. And my parents worked very hard to make this happen.
Thank you savvysavingbytes. I think people sew less now in part because the fabric and patterns are so expensive.
I am glad your family didn’t make you feel like you were too big for your britches.