is everyone richer than me?

$400 cardigan? i'm robbing your house

I miss being a teenager, head filled with ambition and soul with naïveté. When the concept of adulthood was just Jenna Rink’s walk-in closet and endless execution of free will, the future was looking bright and shiny. Don’t get your hopes up: my twenties have mostly been about the slow and painful disillusionment of that vision rather than its manifestation. Not knowing any better, I lacked an understanding that adulthood for the average person is a gradual process of trial and error rather than a simplified before success and after success side by side comparison. And don’t get me wrong, I’ve always been hyperaware of my humble upbringing: it wasn’t some well-kept taboo that some of my peers were much more comfortable. I come from a highly educated working family in a third world country with enormous socioeconomic disparity, where the tax bracket difference is not just noticeable, but very much in your face: it’s pretty easy to guess what’s going on when some of your classmates go skiing in Switzerland for winter break and you’re stuck at home with a Gossip Girl rewatch. We weren’t poor; I was always well-fed and well-dressed, with access to education and extracurriculars, but every dollar mattered. This kind of frugality at the bottom line of the middle class stays with you as you get older.

There seemed to have been hope, though. I didn’t see my lack of money as something that would hinder my future, just a tiny little obstacle in my then present. The “after” seemed different — I imagined financial freedom as something that was guaranteed to happen. How? By studying hard enough and getting a good job, obviously. That should be enough, right? Once I get this thing out of the way, I’ll be able to live wherever I want, shop as much as I want, embody my Tumblr boards, and pursue whatever creative project comes to me in a dream, never chained to the mundanity of making ends meet. Bills pay themselves and the fridge is always full when I’m finally grown. Sure, my parents can’t provide me with a Disneyland trip, it’s fine, I’ll just do it myself in my twenties. Well, fast forward to now, I still haven’t taken that Disneyland trip, and a walk-in closet simply wouldn’t fit in my studio apartment. Though I’m not sure the former is still on the bucket list — the only thing sadder than not being a rich kid is being a Disney adult.

Growing up without fortune wasn’t the bitter pill to swallow — the fact that growing out of financial insecurity is a persistent battle that bleeds into every aspect of adulthood is. I had greatly underestimated just how big of a role one’s starting point plays and miscalculated just how contingent success is on familial assets and investments. It’s been a disillusioning journey all around. For most of us, achieving stability will be a lifelong mission, not a one-off caveat that a good job or a couple of notable projects resolve. The effects ripple and linger: not having a strong financial cushion to fall back on in case something in my life goes wrong is a persistent, quiet fear I carry through every minor and major decision, navigating any potential turn of events. Needless to say, living in a foreign country solo has only exacerbated cautiousness. My twenties have been about choices: do I want to go on a girls’ trip next month, or do I want to ensure I can afford a medical emergency? What’s worse, though, is living in this vivacious full-time writer part-time traveler way regardless of income is someone’s day 1 reality — just not mine. They would never disclose it, though, because there’s nothing more offensive to a rich person than considering the idea they didn’t entirely ‘make it’ on their own. You know how it goes, the beloved cliche: no one screams they’re self-made more than your local nepo kid. No one downplays their wealth and privilege more than the ones who wouldn’t know scarcity if it hit them in the face.

the social media cognitive dissonance

I don’t need to tell you that social media is bad for your mental health on a good day and makes you want to rip your scalp off on particularly bad days: we know its effects on self-perception, our sense of the world and ourselves; there’s hundreds upon thousands of good essays written about it with stats to back it up. One particularly insidious way social media has contributed to my sense of inadequacy is it’s impossible to tell how much money one has based on their lifestyle snippets alone. It just feels like everyone is in neverending abundance at all times of every day. At the helm of public display, you’ll find brunches, daily coffee runs, trips to Italy and Japan on a whim, and people without sufficient following to secure paid partnerships embodying the influencer archetype by tagging their made-to-order cashmere cardigans from obscure brands they’d bought themselves at a $400 price tag. Everyone, of course, also magically happens to have enough free time and resources to pursue creative projects without a full-time job. Scrolling has become a scavenger hunt for truth: why are you at a workshop at 3 pm on a Tuesday? Pilates on a Wednesday morning? Your life seems so fun and devoid of obligation. I love it.. and I want it.. but I don’t have it.. and I’m not sure I can have it any time soon.

But the above doesn’t make sense in the grand scheme of things, does it? When you look at the economic fearmongering and what’s happening around the world, with 78% of Americans living paycheck to paycheck¹ and 32% of Gen Z having less than $1000 in savings², everything is one big mismatch. The middle class is dwindling, but it’s alive and well no matter where I look. What gives? Most statistics paint a picture opposite from the unceremoniously luxurious, relaxed lifestyles I’m observing on the internet and in real life. And before you say this is a North America problem, things aren’t much better on my side of the globe: they’re arguably much worse. Healthcare aside, it’s not the socialist heaven you might’ve been led to believe it is: the average net annual salary in Europe is just €28,217³. Combined with the very real consequences of the housing crisis, manufactured inflation, and a thousand thinkpieces a day on how we’re all irreparably doomed and will never be house owners or able to afford families of our own, I can’t help but feel like we’re either astral projecting a faux reality or we’ve split into two planes of existence. Social media is fake, you’ll say — sure, but it’s not like people stage their vacations and purchases. So, how come no one in the real world has money, but everyone in my phone has plenty?

I think there are at least two things at play here, the compound effect of both distorting reality in real time: we, the working class, are actively trying to seem more well-off than we are by living beyond our means, while the rich are simultaneously trying to seem average. Doing so, albeit for different reasons, yields the same kind of lukewarm result where none of it works and everything is a fabricated, tangled mess. Plastic utopia. Let’s be honest, most of us just aren’t rich enough to accurately cosplay wealth without putting our fate in the hands of questionable measures like credit card debt and buy-now-pay-later schemes. We’re biting off more than we can chew, and we’ll do so until there’s nothing to chew on. The financial risks associated with trying to keep up with the wealthy are disproportionately borne by us, the people of lower-income brackets — but we can’t stop because we want to be part of the conversation. Bell Hooks beautifully highlights this in Where We Stand: Class Matters: “Oftentimes the poor are more addicted to excess because they are the most vulnerable to all the powerful messages in media and in our lives in general which suggests that the only way out of class shame is consumption.”⁴ And consumption sure does swallow us whole. As addressed by Tamara Draut in The Economic State of Young America, too few young people can save money and are moving in the opposite direction; toward long-term personal debt, often at high interest rates.⁵ We’re betraying our future by trying to maintain lifestyles we can’t afford, and I honestly can’t say I blame us.

All the while, the rich are singing their old I’m-Just-Like-You song, masquerading deficiency in a way that isn’t just hardly believable, but plain annoying. Relating to the masses is crucial for validation and acceptance. We know exactly what you mean when you say you’re broke or unemployed and how little impact it has on your past, present, or future. Your unemployment is a nuisance to your parents, and my unemployment would send me straight into poverty. Sure, we might be complaining about the rising costs of the same matcha lattes, but your annoyance is about inconvenience, while mine is about fear. By twisting reality just a little on both ends, we’re creating a seemingly even playing field with equality at the forefront, a sort of homogenous environment where everybody gets a fair shot at life. That is not the case. It has never been the case. Class matters, it always has — but nobody wants to bring up the uncomfortably obvious.

class in plain sight

Everyone is just so goddamn aspirational all the time. She’s in Forbes 30u30. He’s an award-winning creative director (if you’re annoyed with social media bios, you might enjoy this essay.) Girls head to toe in Loewe with their bootstrapped startup founder boyfriends. The alluring thing about success is we’re not really thinking of one’s journey — we’re drawn to the result, here and now, spare me the details. A part of me reckons we might be subconsciously doing it on purpose because knowing what type of backgrounds the people we admire came from would quickly dismantle and discourage us from climbing to their level. We just want the same for ourselves. It’s only natural, can you blame us?

What do your favorite influencers, Elon Musk, and the people at the top of creative industries have in common? Solid generational wealth. In extreme cases, blue Wikipedia pages in the “parents” section. In others, top-notch education with the tuition fee to match. I’m not going to dive into crazy out-of-reach examples like King Princess and her Macy’s heritage⁶, Taylor Swift’s dad⁷, or Dakota Johnson complaining about nepotism⁸ , but even the average person you follow on Instagram who inspires and fosters your daydreaming, in most cases, has received endless assistance and support to get them where they are today. While I think all achievement is great and has a place to grow and flourish, regardless of class, and I don’t think rich people should stand in the corner and never utilize their resources and privilege, I’m drained by sitting here wishing I was more successful while they falsely boast their 'self-made’ careers, swearing I can do the same if only I set my mind to it. I’m tired of the guilt, the shame, and the spite that all inevitably bottle up from orbiting the same circles as the people whose idea of ‘self-made’ is their father investing $100k to jump-start their small business. You’re not self-made — you can be smart, ambitious, high-achieving, but none of that negates the unspoken key ingredient, which is your background. No need to get all defensive about it.

When I briefly worked at a luxury advertising agency in Paris, I noticed something eerie: around 70% of the girls in the office owned multiple designer bags they’d wear in rotation. Dior saddles, Fendi peekaboos. We were all in the same office, of similar ages and titles, so it was only fair to assume their paycheck was on par with mine. A revelation soon lightning-struck me: the accessories were not part of their monthly budget. These people did not have a monthly budget. You know what they say about glamorous, pristine industries like media, PR, and fashion — they’re nothing but breeding grounds for nepotism. Most people working there are the ones who can afford not to; they have the financial freedom to accept lower salaries in exchange for prestige. Hiring decisions are also directly influenced by this, as argued in How Elite Students Get Elite Jobs by Lauren A. Rivera, “… hiring decisions that appear on the surface to be based only on individual merit are subtly yet powerfully shaped by applicants’ socioeconomic backgrounds.”⁹ Some break through the ceiling —endless props to them— but most of us need income more than a sexy resume. Omitting certain jobs because you can’t afford to work there is a very real oxymoron.

“In the twenty-first century, parents’ levels of income and education help determine who works on Wall Street, who works on Main Street, and who reaches the top of the nation’s economic ladder.”¹⁰

stop trying to relate to me! you look stupid!

If there’s one luxury money can’t buy, it’s self-awareness. The tell-tale sign of one’s wealth source is a giant blind spot to life’s difficulties. The one-sided ignorance of the wealthy trying their earnest to relate to us yet remaining hopelessly oblivious to how the unprivileged person’s brain operates is comical once you see it. I used to get so confused when people would ask, in full seriousness, why I don’t just pursue writing full-time. “Don’t you wanna commit to it fully?” they’d say, “You’d have the time to focus.” I would get offended every time: don’t you get it’s not a question of wanting or not wanting? Soon after, I realized these people cannot grasp the concept of having to work not out of ambition and drive but out of necessity. I didn’t go into tech because I’m passionate about software or being chained to my desk for 8 hours a day — I wanted to be able to provide for myself. Not wanted, needed. They don’t understand that having a job, for most of us, is a non-negotiable function of sustenance.

Someone in the C-suite sits across from me over lunch at my former job, reminiscing on their summer vacation. It’s the kind of small talk I’m not sure why they felt the need to start, as only someone with not a single moment of financial struggle at any point in their life would brag to their employees, the people that are actively making them more money than they’ll ever see in their own bank accounts, how fun the Bali trip was. The situation is almost as ironic as your boss complaining about house renovations.¹¹ I keep stealing glances from coworkers as a desperate temperature-check of the awkwardness, ensuring I’m not the only one finding the discussion insane and praying for it to be over. One snarky comment away from either delivering my best one-liner or getting fired —maybe both— since reading the room is not on today’s menu. The person then turns to me, an underpaid twentysomething who spends half of her income on rent, saying I should “definitely go for my next holiday.” Excuse me, sir, I’ve lost my appetite. Well, I’m sure I’d have gone already if you paid me more. Though I really want to, I don’t say anything — this might be the appropriate time to practice Buddhist detachment.

A friend’s mom congratulates me on moving into a new apartment, one I fought tooth and nail for amidst the housing crisis, noting that she’s proud of me. I take that comment wholeheartedly and swallow it whole — I’m proud of myself, too. They’re well off, and I don’t need to mention it because you would’ve guessed by what she says next. “Remember that tiny studio of yours in Paris?,” she goes jokingly “My heart was, like, breaking for you. It was so sad. I felt so sorry just seeing that.” Alright, madam, pack it up. I’m spitting the words back up before choking on the lump in my throat. I’m not sure if I’m more perplexed she felt the need to say that as an adult, or how enthusiastically that slap in the face of a comment was delivered. I loved that fucking studio — what to one is a pity party is the pinnacle of self-sufficiency to another. Then it clicks in an instant: she’s not trying to offend me or undermine my achievements, she is just a clueless lady who meant well. Which, we can argue, doesn’t make it any better, but at least I don’t feel the need to slam the door. It’s not my job to educate wealthy adults on things they should already know as functional members of society. That “tiny studio” was not something I opted for while browsing for apartments — that was the only choice within my humble budget as a single person in a big city. And I was every bit proud of it, actually.

These are not singular grudges born out of bitterness or vendetta, I’m only trying to paint a bigger picture. This is what they do, rich people. They can’t see past their wealth — 9 times out of 10, they don’t even consider themselves wealthy. The point of reference is the people above them, not below them: “They judge their class status by those who have more rather than those who have less.”¹² Then they turn to you, the less fortunate person, to gaslight you into thinking there’s something wrong with you if you can’t afford things. Your struggles are a personal shortcoming, an oversight on your end, and the key to unlocking the ultimate solution is, naturally, within your reach. Every action of yours is viewed in a vacuum of individual responsibility in lieu of determining factors of life’s quality, like your income and the lack of financial support or assets. Somehow, knowingly or unknowingly, the privileged class will always uno reverse the blame back onto you — because they never had to look at anything beyond their gated community perspective. Oh, so you’re short on cash? Go find a better job. Unfulfilled? Invest in your hobbies. What about your savings? You should be a house owner by the time you’re thirty, it’s the viable thing to do. Crypto and Roth IRA, simple as sugar and honey. Stop wasting your money on frivolous things and live humbly. I know they mean well sometimes, as ignorance is rarely ill-intentioned; I may be just as ignorant when it comes to racism within the scope of class, for example. But I’ve always been aware of my less fortunate place in this world, and more recently of all the odds against my breaking out of it, too. As beautifully pointed out by Joshua P. Hill, “…We have more in common with a migrant, a homeless person, or a struggling parent than we do with celebrities and the ultra-rich.”¹³ We must continue to internalize this bitter, unglamorous truth. It sucks in the beginning —god, why ME?— but this awareness is our only chance at collective change.

I’m sorry if this was a depressing essay — I’m not a fan of all this either. It doesn’t bring me joy to write about my lack of wealth. I’d much rather put out listicles on things you should buy this month. Truth is, I’m still trying to bridge my awareness of inequality with my big dreams. Making it has become my raison d'être, and I continue to fight for it regardless of concurrent radicalization. Maybe by inertia, I don’t know. The desire to prove to myself I can rise to at least the very top of the middle class is as strong as ever. It hasn’t been entirely impossible, as I’ve already managed to move to a Western country, get a reputable job, have disposable income, and become financially literate; I know I will continue to do great things in life as I get older and more secure. But none of that changes the facts of the present — I would’ve been much more successful if I had money, connections, and never had to work. I would’ve been in the right circles at the right time from the get-go, not clawing my way through futile networking attempts. I would’ve started a business or published a book by now. Things wouldn’t feel so hard all the time. And no amount of media, billionaire bro ideology, or rich people’s clueless remarks will gaslight me into thinking not having my big dreams fulfilled is somehow a product of incompetence or oversight.

If all else fails, this is a love letter to those who have known struggle. To those who have risen out of it through hard work and to those who are still trying. You’re all killing it. And I want you to continue reminding yourself, whenever you feel behind, lazy, or incompetent for not having everything your younger self wished and hoped for, that you’re actually quite ahead — you’re just not one of them. Your starting point is not their starting point, comparison impasse and pointless. You’ve been set up, and it’s not fair, but that’s the bleak reality of it. And your ability to continue creating a beautiful life within this reality is applause-worthy. I see you.

1. https://www.forbes.com/advisor/banking/living-paycheck-to-paycheck-statistics-2024/

2. https://bankingjournal.aba.com/2024/08/survey-one-in-four-americans-have-less-than-1000-in-savings/

3. https://www.euronews.com/business/2024/07/08/european-average-salary-rankings-where-does-your-country-stand

4. https://carbonfarm.us/amap/hooks_class.pdf

5. https://issuelab.org/resources/2356/2356.pdf

6. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Isidor_Straus

7. https://www.thethings.com/taylor-swifts-family-was-far-from-broke-before-her-fame/

8. https://variety.com/2024/film/news/dakota-johnson-slams-nepo-baby-streaming-execs-hollywood-bleak-1235901127/

9. https://www.jstor.org/stable/j.ctv7h0sdf

10. https://www.jstor.org/stable/j.ctv7h0sdf

11. https://thehardtimes.net/blog/how-to-appear-sympathetic-when-your-boss-complains-to-you-about-their-home-renovation-delays/

12. https://carbonfarm.us/amap/hooks_class.pdf

13. https://substack.com/@newmeans/p-150782812