Critical Thoughts

By Dr Holly Maples

This podcast maps a series of discussions between the Women Working Class Artist South West and North West groups and some of their invited guests. The intersectional group of female artists explore their lived experiences of being working class in the art world. The podcast offers an honest take on how art organizations alienate and silence under-represented groups. The women also share strategies and stories on how to navigate and thrive in a system they feel is not built for them.

It seems like we are in a cultural moment where pressure has been put on cultural and educational institutions over the lack of representation of class, race, gender and disability. There is a move to provide more funding and space for under-represented communities in the art world. The conversations between the women in these podcasts who work across all artistic practices—from creative writing to fine art to performing arts—offers an opportunity to dig deep into what are radical forms of inclusive representation both inside and outside of cultural institutions.

The discussions reveal big and small acts of revolution within the arts world. A revolution of mentorship, of outsider/insider art, of personal and collective empowerment that reshapes and redefines what an artist can be. Indeed, they show how to be an artist as a working class womxn is, in itself, a radical act of reclaiming.

Each podcast focused on a prompt inspired by Beverley Skegg’s article, ‘Feeling Class’[i], which argues that the experience of class becomes embedded in the body as a deeply felt, affectual experience. Questions of earned and unearned privilege, what it means to be a working-class artist, acts of passing, and struggles over identity are combined with strategies for economic survival, arts funding, activism, mentorship, and finding your voice in the arts world.

I was struck by the honesty and authenticity of the stories shared in the discussions. Some described it as ‘raw’ in the way they express their backgrounds and experiences in the industry. This, I believe, is a defiant act. So much of the conditioning of working-class identity, as seen in Beverley Skegg’s article, is around shame and concealment. Members express how meaningful the group has been by providing opportunities to share stories and be honest about their lives. As Kelly Bell argues, it’s ‘building a neighbourhood,’ and the neighbourhood of working-class women artists provides a transformative space of collective action.

Can you really call yourself an artist?

There are so many barriers standing in the way of being seen as a ‘real’ artist. For many, even the idea of making a career as an artist is hard to imagine. The women share stories of being discouraged by their families and teachers, doubted by arts funders, cultural institutions, and even by jobseeker caseworkers.

Many working-class artists work other jobs to support themselves, haven’t had the opportunity to receive formal arts training, or start working as an artist late in life.

Does this make them less of an artist?

Colleges, universities, and drama schools particularly reveal the inequality of experiences in the system. Some of the women spoke about starting much later in life because they were discouraged from going to art school or told a career in the arts ‘wasn’t for them’. While others found the differences in privilege made it hard for them to find their voice in educational and cultural institutions where they felt like the odd one out.

Several of the discussions centred on how hard it is to believe in the possibility of making a career in the arts in a system stacked against them.

Angela Clerkin expressed that she had a ‘chip on her shoulder’ about unearned privilege while at polytechnic, while Jasmine Lee talked about the shock she felt as drama school over the wealth and privilege around her. For all of them, a sense of unearned privilege, and their lack of it, made it hard to relate to their peers. They note that is harder to nurture collaborators and develop arts practices when you don’t share experiences or values with those around you.

Cultural spaces are not innocent

Some who expressed their feeling of inequality and discomfort in universities, like Siobhan Noble, were told to ‘just get over it,’ while others who created art that reflected working class experience, like Kelly Green, were challenged on whether they were working class enough.

Just. Get. Over. It.

I was struck by how the women felt that arts institutions denied their lived experiences—essentially a form a gaslighting. Cultural spaces perpetuate class- and race-based ‘othering’ by making people feel that they are not wearing the right clothes or don’t know how to act. Then when artists from excluded groups express their internalized sense of inadequacy and self-doubt, feeling out of place in cultural and educational spaces, and their continuing experiences of imposter syndrome, they are dismissed and told that is ‘their problem’.

Listening, I heard women express how they felt perceived as too much in arts spaces.

Too Big.

Too Loud.

Too working class.

It seems to me, that these experiences keep cultural and educational institutions exclusive. Spaces will never be truly inclusive if you create environments where white, heteronormative, middle-class behaviour, etiquette, taste, and speech are seen as the ‘norm’ and then dismiss those who don’t feel that they belong in those spaces as being ‘too sensitive’ or deny working class artists’ point of view

The 2018 report, Panic! It’s an Arts Emergency, reveals the systemic inequality in the arts industry with middle class, white, artists exponentially dominating all areas of the sector.[ii] This creates an imbalance, not only of representation, but of experiences and viewpoints within cultural institutions which, in turn, impacts what is both privileged and valued within their buildings.

Cultural Spaces are not innocent

In Feeling Class, Beverley Skeggs describes how these systems of class privilege modelled in both cultural and educational institutions are not arbitrary. They were created by the rising middle class in the 19th century to distinguish themselves as ‘morally superior’ to the decadent aristocracy and the degenerate working class. Working Class culture became framed as immoral and ‘dirty’ versus the ‘clean’ and culturally superior middle classes.[iii]

Many of the podcasts discussed the moment of realization of being working class in a middle-class environment. Women shared stories of when they felt ‘outed’ in arts spaces, where, by not knowing what to wear, how to act, or what to bring, they immediately felt their class.

Charlotte Cooper, Cara MacWilliam, and Dolly Sen spoke of their feelings about whether they were truly part of the art world, or whether they ‘want to be part of it at all’.

As I listen to the podcasts, I think of the slippage of class and privilege. The women voice their discomfort with what class means to them. Are they working class enough? Does the precarity of their past continue into a present?

Marjorie Morgan and Kelly Green spoke of the pressure to ‘pass’ as middle-class to thrive in cultural spaces. This might be through changing one’s accent, or, more subtly, by changing dress, aesthetics, and behaviour to ‘fit in’.

Green shared her experiences of the feeling of class as the embodied, felt emotion of not only identity, but worth. The pressure to shape shift in cultural spaces to prove your worth can be, as Green describes, a life-long struggle.

The women ask: Does the job of passing to survive and thrive in middle class spaces make them ‘lose their class’?

The pressure to pass, the act of passing, and the refusal to pass all leads to problems in the arts and arts education. For some, particularly those who came from benefit class backgrounds, the change of economic and environmental circumstances made them think about what these changes do to their identity.

To belong and thrive is to become a chameleon of sorts, hiding in plain sight.

As I listen to the women talking about their work, their experiences, their feeling of class, I find much of it resonates with my own struggles with imposter syndrome. The fear of being ‘found out.’ Of not belonging.

For those growing up with family financial precarity, many childhood struggles become internalized. For some, personal experiences of childhood precarity affect their internal and external identity in adulthood. Growing up with food scarcity and housing instability may impact individuals later in life, while experiences of family trauma including eviction, abuse, or violence, have wide ranging consequences.

Working class women often deal with carer responsibilities, underlying health concerns, and a lack of financial security for their futures. As Skeggs argues, the experiences and effects of precarity are stamped on the skin, like an invisible brand, and it is only the fundamental act of concealment that makes you are who you are.

However, as Cara McWilliam says, these very experiences make working class artists strong and resilient in their creative practice, and their lives. ‘We reflect the wider society, and wider society needs to see other voices.’ While Maria Paul celebrates her challenging background, not, she stressed, as something she needs to express through her art, but because it gave her a ‘rich background’ to build on in her work.

Some of the women talk about how their feeling of class and belonging, as well as their struggles, empower them to move into outsider art spaces.

They argue:

Be real.

Show up for each other.

I’ve been thinking a lot recently about how we need to step up, to be the change we want to see in the world, and I was struck by the women’s discussions about how they can empower others as mentors and role models. Role models who reflect your experience are central in the fight against imposter syndrome and micro-aggressions.

Kyra Cross talked about working-class artists’ desire to lead by example and show others they can do it too.

Amina Atiq talked about how empowering activism can be as a working-class, immigrant artist, noting that activism takes many forms. It can be a deeply personal act, a public act, or an opportunity for collective action.

For others, like Kelly Green, providing the emotional labour to educate others on the working class experience can be overwhelming and exhausting at times. This made her, and others, work towards other, radical ways of taking ownership of their experiences as artists.

Maria Paul, Kyra Cross, and Kelly Bell discuss how they can harness their power as working class artists through building community, self-care, and embracing and expressing their unique experiences as artists amid emotional, financial and work struggles over the pandemic.

Open the Door

So how do make cultural and educational spaces truly accessible and inclusive?  How do we make art, and being an artist, not a loaded term? As I listened to the women talk about inviting people in, mentoring working class women artists, and encouraging arts practice among young people from marginalized backgrounds. Inviting people from diverse backgrounds in is not just a way to be inclusive but to also to expand the experiences and viewpoints contributing to workshops, creative practice, and audiences.

Building a neighbourhood

In the discussion between Maria, Kyra, and Kelly, the women asked each other if they are comfortable calling themselves an artist. Kelly Bell, who also works as a nurse, described how meaningful her creative writing is for her, and the good feedback she’s been getting on her work, and how it helps her deal with the trauma of working as a nurse during the pandemic. However, she said she struggles with calling herself an artist, or a writer, because she doesn’t write in a way that she feels is crafted enough to earn that title. As I listened to the other two women, Maria and Kyra, push against Kelly’s doubt and affirm that she had every right to call herself an artist, I realized it is through others we can find a voice when we don’t trust our own.

The podcasts reveal how working-class women artists can find a place in the art world through their collective voices. Through their conversations, women share their histories, discuss their struggles, and encourage each other in their practice and their lives. They form a collective voice. They also acknowledge that this kind of encouragement towards making art, in whatever form, is often denied to many from working class backgrounds.

As I grapple with the many complex and meaningful discussions by the women, I feel that the podcasts themselves are a radical work of art, challenging the system through developing new definitions of being an artist.

By reclaiming the self, building new working-class artistic communities, and encouraging mentorship, the Working Class Women Artist group can both redefine and reclaim their own position as working class and benefit class artists, and build a network of people whose shared experiences can become a place of empowerment rather than exclusion.

So, are you an artist, Kelly?

Yes, yes you are.

[i] Skeggs, B. (2021). Feeling Class: Affect and Culture in the Making of Class Relations. The Wiley-Blackwell Companion to Sociology. John Wiley and Sons, p. 269-286.

[ii] Brook, Oran. O’Brien, David, and Taylor, Mark. ‘Panic! Social Class, Taste and Inequalities in the Creative Industries’, 2018. url: https://www.arts-emergency.org/about-us/reports

[iii] Ibid, 275-276,

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