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Yvette Taylor is Professor of Education at the University of Strathclyde, and previously worked at Newcastle University (2005-2011) and at London South Bank University (2011-2015). As a queer feminist sociologist, Yvette has worked with the Scottish Government researching LGBTQ+ lives in the pandemic, and with Scottish Ballet on Safe to be Me, exploring inclusive curriculum in schools. Yvette’s most recent book is Working-Class Queers. Time, Place and Politics (Pluto, 2023), and the question of ‘Where are you from?’ is posed as one of meaning and value, implicating us as classed subjects. Yvette talks about being from a working-class background and feeling that as strength and stigma – including via welfare and schooling structures as well as interpersonally, including in LGBTQ+ venues. Yvette runs a Queer and the Cost of Living Crisis Seminar Series as part of a project on Queer Social Justice, which continues with questions of class, community and care in, through and beyond crises times. RECLAIM caught up with Yvette to ask some questions about queer, class and the intersections of identity, inequality and community, detailed in Working-Class Queers which covers the crises of austerity, recession, Brexit and (post) pandemic times. 1. What do you think defines the working class for you? I’d say I’ve spent my ‘academic life’ so far thinking about this question! Along with others of course, but sometimes it is and has been a lonely journey, especially being concerned with class and sexuality equally. And my equal interest is part of my personal biography which is embedded into what I do, and who I am, including in higher education. I think I’d be more easily recognised as a sexualities scholar, rather than as a class ‘expert’, which is interesting. Queer and class studies have typically been positioned as different concerns or academic disciplines, and while the language of intersectionality proliferates popularly as well as in academia, and in policy, I think this is sometimes mis-understood as just a benign listing of difference or protected characteristics, rather than something that’s socially structured and through key institutions. I think working-class studies still needs to think harder beyond reproducing working-classness as national, white, masculine or straight, to queer that story, and as one beyond UK borders, challenged and remade in light of Brexit, for example. And I think queer studies needs to think about its own elitism and reproduction, in re-engaging with class issues. For me, defining class has always been about this back and forth, maybe re-using or re-purposing, between disciplines, or communities, to think about the possibilities and limits of definition, and for working-class queers themselves. Sometimes definitions and certainties matter and declaring a working-class background, factual reality. And it’s also one that can be questioned, or denied, especially in middle-class space. So, I don’t think there’s one definition of working class, but there are ongoing, and likely increasing, classed processes. I’d reject a simple, unchanging definition, or the idea of an authentic, or politicised or romanticised working-class that we can easily recuperate or ever get back to. And I think questions of definition don’t stand static or alone – I’m less interested in a particular or precise economic scale or bracket, than about how class is lived in our everyday existence, including as deflection or refusal of middle-classness, or as a normalisation of capitalism. 2. Do you think it's important to recognise the unique differences when being working class and part of the LGBTQ+ community? What unique differences are they? So, I think the ‘out’ or visible, or mainstreamed, representation of LGBTQ+ people is often quite middle-class, as ‘acceptable’ or ‘good’ subjects claiming their increasingly rights as citizens, consumers and as part of now state-recognised families. There’s been a lot of research on how LGBTQ+ scene spaces have been wrapped up in gentrification of urban areas, or how middle-class queers are now able to access – and pay – for a broad range of services and supports. Of course, part of that story is referring back to a time when LGBTQ+ scene space was marginalised or criminalised, and parents faced prosecution in court. I’m not necessarily saying that being middle-class is always easy or, conversely, that being working-class is always hard. I think there are varied and multiple ways that working-class queers feel ambivalent about, or refuse, middle-classness. Just as there’s critique of straight lives, or heteronormativity, many working-class queers, spoke about value of being working-class, even if they were also realistic about the limitations, including of financial restrictions. And the fact that the working-class is not one big happy or homogenous group. We might think of working-classes as already queer, as varied, politicised, subversive, as well as exhausted, disappointed, and divided. I’m not sure I’d say there are unique differences, as that depends on who and what the point of comparison is – I think it’d want to mix-up the question andthink about where we are starting from when we think about, measure, or include LGBTQ+ life. I’d also want to resist the story of risk alone; while there were and are many stories of unemployment, underemployment, poor health care, inadequate housing, educational drop-out, and criminalisation, I think the commonality that I’d want to point to is the sense of complication, and a real pragmatism in getting-by in a world that’s still not really made for, with or by working-class queers. 3. What did you enjoy most about writing Working Class Queers or are there any chapters that you just loved? I’d say first that writing a book is hard. I say that as a reminder to myself too ’cause once it’s out, and bound nicely with a colourful cover, a couple of nice reviews maybe, then it’s easy to forget that, and forget the RSI, the tears, the sense of failure, the questioning if you’ll ever meet the – extended - deadline. Which, I hope to an extent, I’ve conveyed and written with and through in the book. It’s a book that was written through times of hope and hopelessness, whether in the early promise of the New Labour government, or in the midst of pandemic restrictions, when the data of the day was literally about life and death. In that context I interviewed queer ‘key workers’, who as migrants to the UK were often subject to visa restrictions while working to save the UK’s NHS. I feel like I could speak of the highs and lows in every interviewee account, and I interviewed over 250 people over time, but then that would just be a set of really long transcribed pages. One of the joys – as well as challenges – is selecting accounts, or cases, or quotes, which reflect shared experiences and commonalities, or which represent a crucial difference, and a distinction from go-to-stories. At a time of increasing UK and international transphobia and right-wing activism, it was important for me to convey the stories of trans interviewees, including those identified in ways which challenged some of the stereotypical and often false binaries. I really appreciate and value Nneka’s contribution as someone who identified as a mixed-race pansexual trans lesbian, critical too of the very white rural place she lives. Interviewees’ accounts confound easy acronyms, or categories, and stories of class are always also stories about race. 4. Do you think society currently has a place for working-class queer people? Do they get the recognition they deserve? I think society has working-class people, groups and communities – even if the word ‘working-class’ might not be used either externally or internally, by people themselves. And I think that’s around classed reasons which continues to see working-classness as something wrong, at fault, not of value, as failed and failing - who would want to associate with such a term?! I think some people are able to claim and mobilise a connection to working-classness, including their history. Again, this might be through a connection to masculinised hard labour, such as shipbuilding or mining, or through domestic labour and caring. My granda worked in the shipyards as a boilermaker, moving there when the old steam engine trains were replaced, to then find himself replaced in another wave of de-industrialisation that hit shipbuilding in Glasgow. My granny worked as a cleaner all her life. I recognise and feel this story, and I certainly don’t think they got the recognition or material comfort they deserved. And that’s a story that connects through globalisation, colonialism and patriarchy. I grew up in a single-parent family in the same council estate as my granny and granda: in their day it had been imagined as a cure to urban ills and slum clearance. That promise failed and the estate ‘sunk’. I don’t think my mum – or her kids – got the recognition they deserved, including from within the working-class community, pitted against each other via anti-welfare cutbacks and moral stigma from Thatcher onwards. Claiming benefits then or now is still stigmatising and insufficient, and over- again I heard stories of eating or heating, or the awfulness of pay-as-you-go meters. I don’t think we do enough to value the circumstances in which people do exist and get by, including with a lot of hope and care. 5. Does working-class queerness resonate with you and your lived experience? Yes, I think I’ve already said so. And I have repeated that over a long-term of writing, thinking, being, doing ‘working-class queer’. I do have a story, but the book, and my research generally, is never just about me, it’s not just my story, and I think I’ve got a responsibility to share across differences,commonalities and divisions. I’d also probably share that I think and hope that there’s lived experiences, meanings and challenges which can connect and resonate with middle-class queers, and even middle-class straights! I think that’s the challenge to think with and through categories, and the ways that we are all implicated in class, and, in thinking intersectionally, we’re all implicated in the making of gender, sexuality, race and so on. With that said, we can unmake these inequalities. 6. Do you plan on doing any more projects related to working-class issues/ LGBTQ+ rights? We hope so! The ‘what next?’ question always makes me laugh, or sigh. There’s so much to do. And I find myself looping back to what are forever questions to do with class and queerness. I remember someone asking when I was going to stop researching class and sexuality, as if that concern has been exhausted as a ‘niche’. I think until we all realise the impossibility or absurdity of that push, I’ll keep doing more projects about working-class queer issues, including my current project on Queer Social Justice.

There are many reasons to be angry right now. Sky high prices on supermarket shelves. Dodgy landlords. School exclusions. But those running the campaigns to tackle these problems don’t always share the same anger and experiences as those of us affected. It’s time that changed. So here’s my advice if you want to make a career out of campaigning. This year marks ten years since I started my first job as a professional campaigner. Fresh from softening my Essex accent at university I sat in the local library because we had no PC at home. As I sat mouth wide open, scrolling through unpaid internships, there was no point shouting at the injustice. No one was listening and I’d only disrupt the elderly woman playing Solitaire. “Chip on your shoulder” is a phrase thrown at us who talk about the difficulties arising from our backgrounds. When I Google it I find it comes from boys who placed a chip of wood on their shoulders in the pub, daring others to knock it off and start a fight. Well, off I went to a box room in the London suburbs, daring the charity sector to try me. I take an internship in an office with bean bags thrown around the floor like a teenager expecting visitors. One day I sat around a table as the team discussed whether my 3-day a week role should be paid. As the verdict goes against me, I feel like I’m at the Old Bailey without my legal aid lawyer. The unpaid internship left me with a Barclays credit card that, like a bad ex-boyfriend, came back to bite me long after I thought it was out of my life. But alongside that big overdraft and credit card bills, my confidence was not always up to scratch. I always seemed to be putting my foot in it. Just like at University, I didn’t seem to know how to present what I was trying to get across. I was called out for being too angry about the issues we campaigned on. Fire in your belly was unprofessional, apparently. I was also told: stop making jokes India, or people won’t take you seriously. Oh come on, no one was taking me seriously anyway, the least I could do was be funny. A help not a hindrance As time went on, the chip on my shoulder started to feel like a Marvel character’s armour. When working on Greenpeace’s environmental campaigns I corrected assumptions like “most people know” why fracking is bad. When I wrote words to mobilise people to take action I knew exactly the gutsy, simple way to say it. That university teacher who’d asked me why my parents didn’t listen to Radio 4 began to look stupid. Sure, sometimes I felt uncomfortable speaking in sterile rooms working at the Labour Party. But I knew I was fighting for Labour's policies because they’d help people I loved. That made me fight harder. I also had something unique to bring to it when I set out to hire a team at Labour, knowing that those underrepresented people were worth working hard to hire. Now I’m lucky enough to train and mentor young people on their own campaigning journeys. It got me thinking about what I’d tell my younger self about that chip on my shoulder. If you’re thinking of becoming a professional troublemaker like me, but without the bank or social capital of Mum and Dad, here’s some advice I wish I’d been given. Ask for help I often felt like asking for help showed weakness and I didn’t want to be seen as unworthy for my job. But the truth is that many of my peers had connections and cheat codes I didn’t. Maybe they’d shared dinner tables with journalists or attended political meetings since 3. By denying this, I only hindered myself. I always wished I’d found someone to mentor or coach me, or just to ask the occasional question. Seek out campaigners you admire and email or message them asking for a chat. Tell them you like what they do and would love to learn from them through mentoring or coaching. They’ll be flattered. If they’re good people and they have the time, they’ll want to help you in some way. Don’t be afraid to prepare None of us want to be intimidated by people with private school accents or parents with posh jobs. But it will happen in most jobs. It makes it hard to think on our feet. I wasn’t much of a swot at school, but when it comes to being comfortable in meetings early on in your career, it can be helpful to prepare. If people consistently send invites for discussions without agendas or topics, ask them politely to send something in advance. Then you can write a few bullet points of what you might want to say. Same with job interviews, it’s fine to have notes in front of you even if it's just to relax you. You can also ask the interviewers for the questions in advance too. Treat it as a unique selling point Remember this: if you’re part of an underrepresented group like being working-class and/or being a person of colour, you have a unique perspective to offer. Treat being working-class as a selling point and a skill that you can offer. If you’re working on public-facing communications and you don’t think people you grew up with would understand or relate, speak up and state your case. Someone recently told me that I “cut the crap” and that’s a reputation I don’t mind. Organise with the diverse working class Show your solidarity and build connections with everyone who is underrepresented at your organisation(s). You could go to talk to someone who was talked over by a colleague at the end of a meeting. Speak to them about how it made them feel and how you might support each other in future. Join a union and organise for better wages and conditions. If your organisation says you “don’t need a union” because it’s a progressive group of activists then that’s a major red flag. Speak to a trade union (Unite and IGWB both represent non-profit workers) about how to get a recognition agreement in place with your workplace. If you’re not being listened to by your HR department or manager then speak to your union rep and ask them to come to a meeting with you to ask for specific changes with deadlines. Union reps have dealt with these issues before and can offer so much wisdom. Social mobility won’t save us If it turns out being a professional campaigner isn’t right for you; that doesn’t mean you can’t change the world. Far from it. Much of the time it’s activists with other day jobs who make the biggest changes. Like many people of my generation, I was guilty of buying into the dream of “social mobility” at a young age. The dream of doing “better” than our parents. But while the financial stability of a paid job is essential you can do other jobs and still change things. From the Black Panthers to the Stonewall rioters, campaigners who are driven simply by the desire for justice can often do more radical and effective things. Changing the world doesn’t mean working for a charity, it could mean night time actions with Green New Deal, organising your neighbours with a tenants union or fighting with your trade union at work. Keep the chip on your shoulder Thankfully unpaid internships are less common than when I started my career and things are getting slowly better in a lot of organisations. But the jobs of our parents, our education, our financial instability, our accents and so on will always mark us as different in middle class environments. But campaigning organisations should be chomping at the bit to get more working class people in senior roles - we have so much to offer. The diverse working class has the fire in our bellies to make change happen, knowing we are the worst hit by climate breakdown and corporate greed. We often work hard, knowing we have a vested interest in making this world better. We know why some will need to stay at home with their kids rather than attend your painstakingly organised protest. We know why some might not be itching to dive into John’s 50 page policy document on reaching net zero. In short: that chip on our shoulder means we’re up for a fight. So whether you end up a professional campaigner or an activist in your community: put it to work. Please give me an email if you want to chat about any of this article or organise around the issues raised. about the author India is a campaigner with a decade of experience using people power to win change. She’s defeated corporate giants like HSBC at Greenpeace and led the campaign forcing the government’s chosen airline not to fly refugees to Rwanda. She was Head of Membership Mobilisation in Labour’s 2019 General Election campaign. As a consultant since 2020, she’s advised more than 30 non profits and trained hundreds across the UK. https://www.indiathorogood.com/

From today, staff in organisations across the country are giving their time for free for the rest of the year. They’ve not been asked to, but they’ve not exactly volunteered their time freely either. Today is Class Pay Gap Day, which represents the day in the year when people from working-class backgrounds effectively stop being paid for the same work their middle-class peers are doing. The UK has one of the highest levels of income inequality in Europe, and this inequality has deepened thanks to the government's handling of the pandemic. Last year, the class pay gap was reportedly at 13% for those working in “professional occupations”, which equates to working-class professionals earning on average £6,718 less than their middle-class peers. When you look at that figure in the context of intersecting identities, the gap widens further still. As the CEO of a youth charity which focuses on class as an equality issue, my organisation and the young people we work with know first-hand the damage of not taking action on socio-economic status. Class is difficult to define, and in many aspects difficult to measure, but when we dress up tackling class inequality as creating social mobility and frame a working-class identity as something to escape from, we do nothing to challenge the structural issues at play. Nobody should be paid less based on an aspect of their identity, but because employers don’t have a duty to record, monitor and report on class pay gaps, people from working-class backgrounds in professional roles work 1 in every 7 days for free. The definition of social class is presented as being complex, and hard to understand and some people just don’t believe it exists at all any more. This complexity of social class is used as a tool to further marginalise people from working-class backgrounds. It creates a convenient excuse as to why we can’t do anything to challenge class inequality. People have been sold the idea that Britain is a society based on meritocracy, but meritocracy doesn’t work when it exists in parallel with inequality. It’s time for employers to build class inequality into their existing diversity and inclusion work. We know that developing strategies and reporting salaries are starting to shrink the gender pay gap, but what does this work look like in practice regarding class? Last year we launched our Missing Experts report, interviewing 277 working-class people working across anti-poverty charities and think tanks. 94% of those interviewed said that class diversity was a problem within their organisations, and 59% of respondents said they either didn’t talk or only partially talked about their background at work. Since the report launch, we’ve supported a growing number of organisations to commit to taking concrete actions to tackle class diversity within their workplace. We think there are a few simple steps all employers can start doing to close the class pay gap: Collect and measure data on your employee's socio-economic backgrounds Open up the routes into your workplace through equitable recruitment and selection practices Ensure promotions and pathways within your organisation are equitable and accessible Our brilliant young working-class campaigners fight class inequality in their schools and communities. We don’t want them to fight for equitable pay and progression when they are ready to join the workforce. To find out more about the support we can offer to make your organisation more class-inclusive, visit https://www.reclaim.org.uk/consultancy

Greater Manchester's young people deserve to be listened to, not just heard. On 2nd May 2024 Greater Manchester will choose its next mayor. There are over 898,000 young people under 25 living in Greater Manchester and we all should be entitled to the same opportunities, regardless of our postcode or our background. The Mayor of Greater Manchester has the power to make that happen. Many of us don’t have a voice in this election, so we want you to vote for a mayor who will invest in working-class young people now. As a group of young people from across Greater Manchester, we have some demands for our next mayor. We’re sick of being heard but never listened to. We want a mayor who will listen to us, learn from us and invest in solutions shaped by us. Download our full manifesto here Education and Life Skills ​ Our education system doesn’t teach us the skills we need for life. One size doesn’t fit all, and the current curriculum doesn’t support us in building critical skills to deal with real-world problems. Ensure there is an equal entitlement delivered for critical thinking and citizenship learning embedded in EBacc and proposed MBacc routes. Invest in more opportunities across the region for young people to access external activities that develop their skills, knowledge and confidence and support them in learning core life skills. Space for young people ​ Greater Manchester has a vibrant social scene, but none of it is for us. As young people, we want access to spaces that are ours. Spaces that feel safe, support our mental wellbeing and build our experiences. Invest in more youth centres and youth provision, ensuring each borough has what it needs including youth spaces within city and town centres. Ensure young people across our communities are supported in the planning, design and delivery of youth provision. Develop a digital resource for young people in Greater Manchester that allows us to see what youth services and activities are available. Provide support for a broad range of arts, cultural and entertainment activities accessible for all young people. Introduce a ‘youth green space quota’ ensuring that young people in each borough have an equal right to green space both now and in any future planning. Transport ​ Every young person in Greater Manchester should be able to access affordable, efficient and safe transport regardless of where they live. Extend the Our Pass scheme to all 11 - 16 year olds in Greater Manchester. Ensure Our Pass covers trams and local train journeys. Develop bus routes that make it easier for young people to access youth provision across the region. Invest in creating a safer public transport system through better infrastructure and enabling bystander support. A better political culture ​ The biggest barrier for young people engaging in politics is politicians. We want Greater Manchester to set the standard for how politics should be done. Invest in education programmes that explain how politics works and support young people to engage in decision-making within the Combined Authority. Ensure that political decisions are communicated accessibly and transparently to young people across Greater Manchester. Add your name to support our Manifesto First Name Last Name Date of Birth Email Address Submit Thanks for submitting! Read our data policy here Contact the candidates Quotes from the research: ​ ​ 77 percent* of the population believe it's time to rethink the purpose of education and change the system. We know that national change is needed, but we believe that some of that change needs to be directed locally. (*https://www.big-change.org/what-we-do/transforming-education/ ) ​ The lack of diverse and accessible spaces means that 40 percent of all Year 10 students in Greater Manchester feel there are no good places for young people to spend their free time. (https://beewellprogramme.org/wp-content/uploads/2023/03/BeeWell-Year-2-Headlines-Report.pdf ) 1 in 5 young people are disengaged from participation in arts, culture and entertainment, with the majority of those in working-class communities. (https://beewellprogramme.org/wp-content/uploads/2023/03/BeeWell-Year-2-Headlines-Report.pdf ) ​ ​

contact the candidates 2Cont We want a mayor who will listen to us, learn from us and invest in solutions shaped by us. Before the mayoral election on 2nd May, please send a message to the candidates asking them to commit to our manifesto demands and build a fair and inclusive Greater Manchester for all working-class young people. Here’s a template message, but feel free to change it up… ​ ​ ​ Dear xxx The future is becoming increasingly harder for working-class young people. There are over 898,000 young people under 25 living in Greater Manchester and they all should be entitled to the same opportunities, regardless of their postcode. The Mayor of Greater Manchester has the power to make that happen. As a resident of Greater Manchester, I want a mayor who will support and invest in young people across the region and create change that they want to see. Ahead of the election on 2nd May, I am asking you to publicly commit to implementing demands developed by working-class young people from RECLAIM, a youth charity working across Greater Manchester, which focus on education, transport, access to spaces and political culture. Those demands can be read in full here Sincerely xxx ​ Candidate Contacts ​ Jake Austin Liberal Democrats jake@jake4GM.com @jakelibdem Andy Burnham Labour contact@andyformayor.co.uk @TeamBurnhamGM Hannah Spencer Green Party @HaleGreensHan Laura Evans Conservatives laura@laura-evans.org.uk @LauraEvansTeam Nick Buckley Independent nickbuckleymbe@gmail.com @NickBuckleyMBE Dan Barker Reform UK @danBarker4GM

Working C lass Young People Being seen, being heard, leading change. Donate ABOUT RECLAIM RECLAIM powers young working-class people to change the country today and lead it tomorrow. We are a bold and ambitious charity committed to creating a future where your class background is no barrier to what you can achieve. A challenging upbringing should be seen as a strength, not a weakness. Read more OUR WORK RECLAIM is at its most impactful when we support young people to create campaigns that win change for all working class people. We are a champion for campaigns that are created and led by young people and use innovative and radical approaches to get attention. Campaigns Our response to COVID-19 Responding to the on-going challenges and inequalities faced by the working-class community. Full Time Fierce Young women leaders aiming to smash the hierarchy. #IfWeDidThis Putting an end politicians using violent and de-humanising language.