Class Distinction’s a Bitch

While writing up my advice column today, I was reminded of my wealthy aunt. In accordance with the secrecy surrounding this blog, I’m calling her Twiggy.

Twiggy married into her wealth, to a man who in turn, inherited his investing firm from his father. I want to make it clear that I am not jealous of them for this. I am actually quite used to this. Some people are born into money, some are born poor. Some are born handsome, others are born with cerebral palsy. This is all a part of life. What gets me is the lack of understanding that comes along with uncontested privilege.

Recently, my parents went to Florida to celebrate my wealthy uncle’s birthday, (an event that only happens once every four years, thanks to the leap year.) While they were there, apparently Twiggy spent a lot of time worrying about me, so much so in fact, that it was all she spoke about, and that they had trouble enjoying themselves. My mother explained that this was part of why they were in such foul moods when they got back. While I can appreciate everyone’s concern, I think it’s hardly any reason to get upset about, particularly because of the kvetching of a rich old Jewish-American princess.

Twiggy married into her money, and her husband inherited it. He puts in maybe one day of real work every week. (He goes into the office for three hours Tuesday through Thursday), and Twiggy herself has never worked a day in her life, which is why I tend not to have any respect for them when they ask me why I’m still not working. In truth, I’ve had a number of jobs, all of which I was fired from or forced to quit, or were merely temporary, and even some which just didn’t pay me in the end, but they can’t really understand this since once again, they’ve never actually had to look for a real job.

They have two daughters, one of whom has followed in her mother’s footsteps and bagged herself a wealthy husband, who also inherited his money. The other is, for the lack of a more loving description, a well-kept perpetually recovering drug-addict.

None of these people ever contribute anything to society, so why is it that I’m supposed to feel guilty for not doing my part? I have probably worked harder and more than all of these people combined. I just don’t have anything to show for it, that’s all.

Again, I’m not jealous those who inherit their wealth, but I absolutely refuse to feel guilty because I didn’t. I’m trying very hard to carve for myself in this world, which is something people like them could never possibly understand.

It kills me that the leaders of the world don’t come from people like me, or like my sister, or my parents, or my N/A ex-girlfriend. They come from people like my uncle, and aunt Twiggy, and they always will. Fucking aristocrats.