Rain seems like an equal opportunity phenomenon. Moisture condenses, and then it falls, regardless of the income level of the people below. But I recently received a first-hand lesson in how even something like rain can reveal the often hidden privileges of class.
A little back story: I love walking in the cities I visit for conferences. Not only do I need some fresh air now and then after being in windowless meeting rooms, but walking through a city makes me feel like I’m really experiencing the tempo of daily life, much like I blogged about a couple of years ago. This year’s Pacific Sociological Association (PSA) meeting was in Oakland, and nearby San Francisco is one of my absolute favorite cities to walk through. Not only is the architecture interesting, but the views of the bay make for great photos. Plus climbing its many hills is a great workout.
Now back to the rain. I had planned to leave the Bay Area several hours after the conference ended in order to spend some time walking around, but alas, the forecast called for rain. I contemplated skipping my walk, but I would have been really disappointed and would have several hours of just sitting around in the
hotel or airport. I had an umbrella and decided I’d go anyway. Maybe it wouldn’t be that bad.
It really wasn’t—at first. The rain was steady but light, and my umbrella kept me dry. I walked about fifteen minutes and it started to come down more. I saw dozens of fans wearing San Francisco Giants jerseys leaving the nearby baseball stadium as the game went into a rain delay. I decided to duck into the Ferry Building Marketplace for a while before venturing out again. I walked another 15 minutes before the rain came down hard, my umbrella no longer protection against the wind-driven downpour.
This isn’t fun anymore, I thought to myself, disappointed that my plan was ruined. I had been looking forward to walking around for the entire weekend and felt at the mercy of Mother Nature.
By then the back of my jeans were getting soggy, and it was cold. I had a GPS device and looked to see what was nearby, maybe a restaurant or café I might go to dry off.
I headed towards shelter and noticed a homeless man hovering in a doorway, holding a sign that said “Homeless Veteran: Hungry. Please Help.” That was when I recognized that I had many more choices than this homeless man did, and that my class privilege could protect me from the rain in ways that his could not. My thoughts turned to the PSA Presidential address just given by Michael Messner on class privilege, in which he applied women's studies professor Peggy McIntosh's now classic 1988 essay “White Privilege: Unpacking the Invisible Knapsack” to his own privilege as a white, male, tenured professor.
How was my class privilege helping me in the rain? I was soaking wet as I realized the following:
- I had the money to hail a cab or board a bus at any time.
- Restaurants and shops would welcome me inside as a potential paying customer; I could buy something just to get out of the rain.
- Since I had showered and put on fresh clothes that day, I could enter a public place like the Ferry Building without enduring dirty looks (or worse) from others.
- Although the clothes I was wearing were all wet, I had dry clothes and shoes waiting for me at the hotel, and most of my possessions were not outside.
- I chose to be outside; unlike the homeless people on the street I made the decision to go for a walk even though the forecast called for rain.
While it might seem that the homeless people I saw could have gone to a shelter, a recent story details how the city of San Francisco—like many others—is facing a rise in its homeless population while donations for shelters are down, causing some to close their doors. Many shelters don’t allow people to stay during the day either.
Even a sociologist can forget their class privileges sometimes. Privilege by nature can be invisible, and seem natural and inevitable. We can even feel entitled to them—here in southern California we sometimes feel entitled to endless sunshine and dry weather—and feel angry when they are made visible or taken away.
What other class privileges might be taken for granted?








































