Class Pride, Class Shame – Healing the Silent Divides

Let's talk about something we rarely talk about directly: class. Not just in terms of income or occupation, but in how we feel about where we come from. Whether we feel pride in our roots — or carry hidden shame.

I've lived in multiple countries, and everywhere I go, I notice how powerful class messages are. Whether it's Sydney, Singapore, or Paris, I've had ample opportunity to see how class shapes our identities far more than we might like to acknowledge.

Zouk and the Ah Bengs

In Singapore, I used to go to a nightclub called Zouk — a legendary musical space that defined rave culture in Southeast Asia since its opening in 1991. Picture this: Tiësto, Fatboy Slim, Laurent Garnier on a regular weeknight with no extra cover charge. It wasn't just about the music. It was about who felt at home there.

The trance nights in particular drew out a crowd often derided in Singapore: the ah bengs and ah lians — working-class youth seen as unrefined, unserious, and even threatening. In a society obsessed with education and appearances, these were the people left out of the national success story.

But at Zouk, they belonged. The dancefloor was their space. I saw joy, identity, and freedom being expressed without apology. It a beautiful thing to witness.

Growing Up with "Westies"

Back in Australia, class divides show up differently, but they're still strong. My extended family includes many people from Western Sydney — often pejoratively referred to as "westies". They're seen as rough, unsophisticated, less cultured.

But I noticed something else. These were the people who understood the importance of nurturing relationships. Who showed up when someone was sick. Who didn't need permission to care. 

When you don't have much in terms of money or social capital, you lean on each other. That, to me, is wisdom.

The Shame No One Talks About

Class shame cuts both ways.

People from poorer backgrounds are often taught to feel inferior—less intelligent, less cultured, less worthy. But wealthy people carry shame too: guilt about their privilege, anxiety about seeming out of touch, or pressure to "do something meaningful" with the advantages they were handed.

In both cases, the shame is isolating.

The Beauty of Plural Voices

Society becomes infinitely more beautiful when a plurality of voices is welcomed into the discourse. We are richer, more vibrant, and more honest when stories from every walk of life are part of the cultural conversation.

Think of how much we owe to artists and athletes from working-class backgrounds — people like Soprano, the Marseille-born rapper whose lyrics speak to everyday life, migration, and hope; Ken Loach, whose films continue to give working people dignity and a political voice; and Maxine Peake, an actor and playwright who never left behind her Bolton roots and uses her platform to advocate for social justice. These are not fringe voices—they are central to our collective story.

Sport and music remain two of the few realms where the barriers to entry aren't entirely dictated by pedigree, education, or connections. You can't fake talent on a stage or a pitch. When someone moves us deeply in those spaces, it comes from something real, something earned.

In therapy, we often explore personal narratives — stories about who we are and how we came to be this way. But we don't always name the class dynamics underneath those stories. And yet class quietly shapes so much: how we view ourselves, what we feel we deserve, how confident we feel speaking in certain rooms, and whether we believe our voice truly matters.

When we start naming class as part of our inner and outer landscapes, we begin dismantling the shame, guilt, and invisibility that so many carry. And we create space for a culture that values not just polished perspectives, but true, grounded, unapologetic voices — however they sound.

Reflection Activity: Understanding Your Class Story

Take a quiet moment with the following prompts:

1. How do you feel about your own social class?
2. What messages—explicit or implied—did you receive about your class growing up?
3. How has this shaped your self-worth, ambition, or relationships?
4. Have you ever hidden or exaggerated aspects of your background to fit in?

Write freely. Let it be messy. You might be surprised at what surfaces.

Cultural Recommendation

Eddy de Pretto – "Kid" (2018)

Bold, queer, working-class, and unfiltered — Eddy de Pretto uses his music to challenge norms around masculinity and class in contemporary France. "Kid" is a powerful anthem that critiques how young boys are conditioned, especially in environments where class-based expectations are rigid.

"Tu seras viril mon kid, je ne veux voir aucune larme glisser sur cette gueule" (You will be manly, my kid, I don't want to see a single tear on your face) – a line that sums up the pressure many boys still grow up with.

Reflection Questions:

• What expectations were placed on you as a child based on your class, gender, or community? Which ones did you absorb? Which ones did you reject?

A Final Thought

Whatever your background, class is not a measure of your worth. But the world often acts like it is. Let's be mindful of the stories we carry—and careful not to pass on shame where pride could live instead.