Finding the balance between money and relationships.
It’s no secret that coming to university means that you meet all different kinds of people. But no one talks about how hard it can be to bridge the gap of class. And let me tell you, it hasn’t half caused some…disagreements between me and some of my friends.
When I first came to Glasgow four years ago, I went into halls full of people who went to private school. Coming from a somewhat working-class background, a small town in the North of England, and schools that were most definitely not private, it was an adjustment. Definitely some culture shocks mid-conversation when I couldn’t believe how the other half lived.
Now, I didn’t have the most working-class upbringing by any means. My parents worked hard for me and my brother to grow up on “the nice side” of Widnes, we weren’t overly tight for money but we were by no means flush. Some friends from school would’ve said I was “posh Widnes” because I didn’t grow up on a council estate. It was a sort of limbo. We had a nice house, we didn’t have second hand clothes or anything like that, but I also knew friends that did and went on holidays abroad every year, which we didn’t. My parents prioritised where we lived throughout the year over a week or two away. There’s nuances in class that aren’t that big of a deal in the broader scheme, but in a small town like Widnes, make all the difference. But then, coming to uni and meeting people that took annual ski trips, a paid-for gap year, or parents that could afford to pay for their rent, was a crazy adjustment. I felt like I had to defend my experience with money to people that had never really considered it that way before.
And I think class experiences are different everywhere. I don’t know what the class divide is like in Scotland or other parts of the UK. I can only speak on my experience being between Liverpool and Manchester. I’d never in my life met people with wealth like some people at uni. My definition of posh was having both parents in managerial jobs, or a house with like five bedrooms, or designer bags and coats. And then I came to uni. And I met people who went to private school, whose parents could afford to spend that kind of money every year on education alone, never mind everything else. And suddenly I had to explain the difference between my working class and council house working class. And it’s awkward, and tiring, and just uncomfortable to be honest. It’s like having to justify your perception of the world.
Like most of us, I live by a tight budget. Money for bills and money for fun are two very different things, and they don’t cross over. But it can be hard to manage when you have friends with bigger budgets than you, harder to turn down nights out because you can’t afford the drinks or the Uber home, saying no to coffee dates, or days out because you’re thinking of how to make your money last.
The cost of living is getting worse every day, and in a city like Glasgow it can feel like the cards are stacked against you sometimes. The University of Glasgow suggests a student’s cost of living is between £1,100 to £1,700 a month! Now I don’t know about anyone else but I definitely don’t have a grand a month for my budget. To me, that’s wild. What’s even crazier is that The London School of Economics and Political Science quote their student cost of living as £1,550 a month. And that’s London, one of the most expensive cities in the UK. To some people these cost of living estimates aren’t a hard reach, to others that’s just not in the realms of possibility without working crazy hours. I’m not going to argue for the locals but I know we, as students, are part of the problem. The gentrification of areas, catering to non-local students rather than the community. Class differences are everywhere and, sometimes, the uni can keep us in a bubble where people don’t see it, unless you’re on the receiving end of issues.
I’ve been working on getting rid of that working-class chip I had on my shoulder at the start of uni, because god knows I was judgemental of people with money, the same way some people were judgemental with me for not having it. But there are ways to bridge the gap, I promise.
Before you can even build the foundations, though, you need to make sure that the effort is reciprocated. Trying to meet in the middle with someone who won’t factor in your budget is never going to work, and that’s not the type of person you want to stick around anyway. So pick the people who are worth it. And be honest. I’m not saying you need to go into detail about exactly how much or how little you have, but it doesn’t hurt to say: “hey guys, I’m actually a bit tight right now, can we do something else?” And a good friend or partner will be happy to just spend time with you. I had a good open chat with one of my friends about this kind of stuff, each of us being on opposite sides of class, she called me out, and I called her out, and now our friendship is better than ever.
It can be hard getting over the shame, embarrassment, and just general discomfort having to admit that you don’t have the same budget as some of your friends, but it’s a shame you shouldn’t have to feel. And if anyone is making that feeling worse, that says more about them than you. Coming from a more modest, working-class background can be hard, but be proud of where you are now and where you started. You beat the odds and got to uni, a good one at that, and are studying the same things as people who had more advances. Privilege is an amazing thing, but you need to be conscious, realise your reality and relationship with money isn’t necessarily the same as everyone else’s. Being class conscious isn’t bragging, it’s being considerate. Everyone would rather you be open about your privilege than play it down and reduce its importance.
Class can be a big, touchy topic. But it doesn’t have to make or break friendships or relationships. There’s a lot we can learn from each other, if we just start meeting in the middle. So, if you’re friends with people who can spend a bit more, be honest. Don’t get roped into spending more than you have. Not everyone wants to blast their class, which is totally their prerogative. So instead, you can just pace your drinks, factor in some nights in and have movie nights with shop pizza instead of takeout, cut down on the coffees at uni, and just be present. But it doesn’t have to be hidden and it doesn’t have to be embarrassing. Your class can shape you, but it doesn’t define you and it’s not rigid.
