Socially Stratified

People in Singapore are class conscious. Secretly, we are, no matter how much we pretend we’ve all really been amassed by the government into one big throng conveniently called the middle-class. The divide is not as apparent here as it is the other south-east Asian cities with yawning wealth inequality, but it’s there. People are conscious of each other’s wealth, and despite everyone living relatively comfortable lives, the fact that someone else has it more comfortably affects people.

It’s all rather peculiar, and I wouldn’t deny I’m not of the phenomena. Whether we like it or not, we’ll always be envious of someone else’s good fortune and their chic demeanor. Why else buy pirated goods? (I don’t by the way. I wouldn’t be caught dead with a fake. Not even VCDs, because I just download those.) Or why else are we so particular about the sort of house we live in ( I read from a recent report by the local press there were people who’d tear off the parking stickers that they needed to use to park below their government subsidized flats), the car we drive, the schools we send out children to. Why do kids boast about living in real prime estate and why does my adolescent sister report to me every little detail about the claims to the ‘upper-class’ of her classmates.

To have parents that own a huge piece of real estate, a number of cars, a marble fountain and to posses that academic RGS accent are all very desirable characters, according to her.

‘How many square meters of the house can her skinny ass occupy in a day. And you speak with that infuriating accent yourself.’

I will admit that I do too, and it doesn’t bother me because it’s how I like speaking. To do otherwise simply to sound ‘more Singaporean’ would be counteractive to the precise philosophy that we should converse in the legitimate lingo we were ‘born with’ (what bullshit)- because, honestly, I would be faking it if I didn’t speak how I like.

While the class divisions are not all that apparent, I must admit that I feel it at times. Not so much with people with more affluent lots in life then mine, but with people less than. Talking to them, as ridiculous as this may sound, makes me go, ‘oh dear, poor you.’ And secretly go, thank god it ain’t me. And the only times when I genuinely feel that I wish I were born into a more well heeled lot in life is at the Art Gallery. (The paintings are priced all-right, but for the love of God I live in an apartment.)

The G-Spot was terribly acerbic the last time the subject came up. I was being stupid about it, I must admit. He’s a very real, raw person, and that’s why I like him. He was making fun about my lot in life (which is really quite boring and terribly bourgeoisie. Think all the 5 Cs: Cash, Car, Condo, Credit and Carnality –all right, I forgot the last C, but at least I made the distinction between Condos and Condoms.) And I got quite upset and said a very dumb, bigoted thing. ‘It’s a big beautiful condo, so shut up.’

God I was embarrassed after that.

He dates a girl who spent most of her life being broke, buys clothing from the neighborhood retail store (the sort that functions as a community with the localized wet markets) and is 15% sure he wants to have her babies. And who also chastises him for wasting money.

Frankly, I never thought of class coming in between any sort of romantic relationship, until today. And it made sense. I suppose one of the reasons why I despise the Ex so much was because he wasn’t well-heeled enough; actually, that’s a real understatement. His family was bankrupt. And he was 10 years older then me and hadn’t even graduated. But that’s beside the point. The truth is, if you’re more affluent, you’ll have a whole different set of ideals, aspirations and concerns that are separate from someone much less. It’s the same concept as people in developed countries not having similar concerns as the ones in developing nations. It was one of those irreconcilable differences that made my whole relationship with him, when I think about it now, all the more implausible.

It is a meritocratic society, and the poor here really aren’t poor. But when I thought about it, in this generation (the country is on to it’s third since it’s founding) cultural, artistic and literary literacy between the top half of the middle class and the bottom half are still jarringly existent.

xoxox