Following my appointment as academic services manager (coming after four months in the role on an interim basis), I’ve been reflecting on my career path and what got me here. This is something I’ve done throughout my time in libraries, not least because of where I was before I started working in the profession. However, I think that my recent promotion brings into even sharper focus the journey I took to get here and, more specifically, the barriers and problems along the way.
I should start this reflection with some context. I’m a white, working class, cis, straight man. I have many privileges afforded to me that aren’t afforded to others, lowering many of the barriers that others face and making my pathway significantly easier. None the less, I still faced barriers as someone from a working-class background, and it’s through this lens that, of course, I will be analysing my career-path. I would like to start early on, however, by rejecting the “marginalised white working class” myth that is so often used as an excuse from being prepared to reflect on and address structural racism. I do not believe that there is a set of actions and interventions that should focus on the white working class to alleviate their perceived “marginalisation”. Rather, I would argue, addressing the marginalisation of truly marginalised groups will also benefit the white working class, not least because the experience of economic oppression is a shared reality.
Consequently, I do not want what is about to be written to be perceived as being about “how we address the needs of the white working class”. It should be perceived precisely for what it is: an acknowledgement and reflection of the economic realities facing the working class and the barriers they face in economic progression. That is its sole purpose and the lens through which my experiences will be reflected.
In terms of my background, I am a first-generation university student. Across my entire family, beyond my immediate family, I was the first to attend university. My parents were a prison officer and a shop assistant. I grew up in a working-class port town that had high levels of deprivation and unemployment throughout my childhood and into adulthood. I went to a state school in an educational authority that operated grammar school selection. I was more fortunate than many of my peers in that we lived in a semi-detached house whilst my peers lived in terraced or council housing and, unlike some of my friends, I never experienced a situation where one parent relied on social security to make ends meet. We were not “poor” by any measure, but we were certainly not “well off”. I guess my parents would have fitted into that section of the working class that doesn’t struggle and sees the Tories (wrongly) as the best option for their economic and social security.
Following three years studying English Literature with History, I intended to move into teaching. Unfortunately, this didn’t work out for me…partly due to my experiences teaching in a grammar school within the aforementioned educational authority (for brevity I won’t explore that experience here…even though it potentially feeds into some of the wider reflections). And so, I bailed out and had to look for work. Initially finding work in a factory cleaning glue from boxes made for confectionary, I subsequently found work on the high street in a certain Chemists. I say “found” work, I was fortunate in the sense that my mum already worked there and that helped pave the way for me to take up a full-time job…for what I thought would be short-term whilst I tried to find work in publishing (my second choice after teaching). Despite a number of interviews (and work experience), publishing wasn’t to be. I continued to work in retail from 1998 to 2005 (from the age of 21 to 29).
During this period, I was largely living away from home, house sharing with others in rented accommodation. My paycheck for a large chunk of this time was around £600 per month. I had enough to get by, but that was it. Beans on toast for lunch and tuna pasta for dinner was pretty much my daily routine (unless I was feeling particularly in need of a treat, then maybe it was fish finger sandwiches or something). We had a key meter for the electricity, and it used to be “fun” to work out how far I could feasibly let it run down during the day without topping up and without the electrics going out overnight. Having spare cash was the stuff of dreams.
But then, in 2005, I moved into working in public libraries. From there, I moved into my first job in an academic library, and from there into my first professional post and then finally into the role I am in now. So, how did I get from where I was in my twenties to where I am in my 40s? From worrying over topping up the key meter to living comfortably with a good salary?
I guess there are two alternative narratives I can construct for myself on the back of what happened from 2005 onwards to explain how I have moved from one situation to the other. There’s one I’d label the “Boot Strap Narrative” and one I’d label the “Good Fortune Narrative”.
The Boot Strap Narrative
In 2004 I was working on secondment from Folkestone to another store in Hythe. My period of secondment was coming to an end and I was due to return to my base store in my substantive role. Before the end of my secondment, my Area Manager came to see me. He told me they wanted me to stay in Hythe and to be downgraded, I was no longer wanted in Folkestone because it was felt I wasn’t up to the job. Even though, prior to my secondment, I was on a management training programme and had no such concerns aired when I asked to suspend my training whilst I was on secondment. I refused the offer and insisted on returning back to my substantive role as was the initial intention.
A few weeks later, I was back in my substantive role. Shortly after returning, I was called to the manager’s office. I closed the door and sat down, expecting some discussion about priorities etc. I sat down. My manager picked up a folder on his desk, slammed it down hard and proceeded to attack me and my work. As with my area manager, unfounded accusations were made about my time on the management training programme…: “you did nothing…you sat there with your arms folded and contributed nothing etc etc”. None of this was ever aired with me when I suspended myself from the programme. Indeed, the leaders on the programme were complimentary and understanding of why I had chosen to suspend myself. It was clear that this meeting and the meeting with the Area Manager were part of a co-ordinated attack on myself and an attempt to remove me from my post.
The remainder of my time working at that store involved a high degree of harassment and bullying. I was watched and reported on, the time I arrived, the time I left, what I did during the working day…the works. Of course, the fact that my store manager was so incompetent that he often worked from home (a retail store manager) because his partner was a senior manager, meant that if he wanted me out, he had to use others to monitor my work. And so that was my daily experience. I resolved to double my efforts to get out of that environment. Eventually, I did.
I was more determined than ever to get out, scouring job vacancies and hoping there was something I could jump ship to. In 2005, I saw an advert for a Customer Services Officer in public libraries, it seemed a good fit for my skills and experience, so I applied. I was interviewed for the post, it was offered to me, I accepted and I handed in my resignation.
I worked hard in public libraries, got to know a different working environment, enjoying it so much I applied to do the MSc Information and Library Studies course at Aberystwyth. Part way through the course, I found an opportunity at Christ Church which I applied for, conscious that things weren’t looking good in our authority, and was successful in applying. At Christ Church I learnt a new role, a new way of working, engaged with the profession more, got involved in various organisations, built a network of contacts, broadened my skills and, as I completed the course, began to look at subject librarian roles. After a few applications, I finally succeeded and moved to a new university, learnt a new role and started to develop new skills, further deepening my understanding of academic libraries and librarianship. And then I ended up in this new role. After years of working hard, developing contacts, continually learning and developing my skills, I moved into my new role managing a team of subject librarians.
But this “Book Strap Narrative” misses out some key details…
The Good Fortune Narrative
In 2001, I was working on secondment from Dover to another store in Cliftonville. Back then, Cliftonville wasn’t the trendy, hipster place it supposedly is now. It had high rates of deprivation, to the extent it was one of the poorest parts of the south east (and England more generally). I enjoyed working there with good people and a certain community spirit, despite the extent to which the area was being neglected and marginalised.
My role whilst at Cliftonville was basically to run things on the shopfloor, while the store manager focused on running the pharmacy. Every now and then, we would have a relief pharmacist at the store, either to relieve the store manager or to cover when she was sick or on annual leave. One time, a Spanish pharmacist around my age came to work at our branch. We got chatting. We got on well. She left at the end of the day. I figured I’d probably only ever see her again in passing. That was that.
Skip forward a few months, an awkward exchange of numbers through a mutual friend, and we’re out drinking in a pub in Canterbury. Followed a few days later by lunch at her flat. Followed by more drinks out…followed by more lunches out…followed by more drinks…And then, in 2004, we married in Spain. Her family made me feel part of the family very quickly and easily. But becoming part of this family was still a culture shock to me. Whilst my parents were a prison officer and a retail worker, my wife’s were both doctors. Her brother was a doctor. Her sister was a doctor. Their friends were doctors, judges, politicians, artists, sculptors…nothing like the circles I was used to (electricians, plumbers, fast-food workers, mobile phone shop workers etc etc).
A year later, I’m looking for a job outside of retail due to the bullying and abuse I had been subjected to. I find a job in public libraries, I apply and I’m successful. After a year I decide I want to do the MSc Information and Library Studies course at Aberystwyth. I have a discussion with my wife. At this point, I’m still earning below £20,000 per year. I can’t afford the fees for the modules on the distance learning programme (the fees were £540 per module…a sum that, not so long prior, was only just a few tenners shy of my monthly income). My wife, on the other hand, is in a well-paid professional post and has significant savings. Of course she wants to support me, and we agreed when we married to pool together our resources. And so, I apply for the course, and I’m successful.
I enjoy the course, work my way through it, use what I learnt to progress in the field. Whilst studying I change sectors, enhance my learning of librarianship in a practical sense, develop networks and contacts. Eventually and, ultimately, secure my first professional post. And then I ended up in this new role. After being financially supported by my wife, who had a far greater degree of social and economic capital than I had ever enjoyed. As a result of this foundation and working continually to widen my knowledge and develop my skills, I moved into my new role managing a team of subject librarians.
It would be very easy to fall back onto the “boot strap” narrative. The reality, however, is that I would not have been able to enter this profession and be where I am without the economic capital that came with my relationship. Prior to that, the very idea of embarking on a postgraduate qualification that cost £540 per module was beyond fantasy. When your monthly paycheck is £600 a month, and with that you have to pay for food, rent, bills etc, £540 is way out of reach. Indeed, even if I had moved back in with my parents in the interim, it still would have been financially inconceivable to embark on such a course.
When I was working in retail, I was largely trapped. I had no easy way out; few options were available to me. My priority was just surviving financially and being able to look after myself. Again, I am very much aware that even then, my situation was not as bleak as others. I could afford to eat. I could afford the electricity. I could afford to even occasionally go out and meet up with friends. There were people in a far worse situation. But the reality is, when you are stuck with those economic conditions, there’s very little room for manoeuvre. And certainly spending money in the vague hope it might be an investment in the future, was a dicey game. Without experience and without the economic capital, studying for a qualification that opens the doors to a profession was simply not a route available to me.
Now, I’m keen to emphasise at this point that I don’t believe this is a “librarianship” issue. I always get a bit angsty when people seem to imply that it’s an issue that is unique to librarianship, that it is only in our profession that such barriers exist. Of course, the reality is it’s an issue of capitalism. Of marketisation of education. It cuts across all professions and it’s the one barrier that cuts across all identities. For some, there are multiple other barriers that need to be reckoned with: racism, homophobia, ableism, misogyny. For people like myself, there is just the one: the economic barrier.
As I noted near the beginning, removing this barrier not only removes a barrier for white, working class, cis-gendered, straight men, it also removes a barrier from those oppressed according to their racialised identity, their gender, their sexuality. Because we know that those outside of the white cis-heteronormative majority face the barriers of structural racism, of homophobia, of misogyny, but they also overwhelmingly face the barrier of economic capital. And if we want to eradicate these barriers, then addressing the common causes across professions of these barriers will be crucial. Otherwise, those barriers will persist, and we will continue to wonder why our professions are overwhelmingly white and middle class.
I don’t want to offer any solutions here. I just wanted to share some personal perspectives and reflections in the hope it might be useful to someone, or provide some sort of insight into the realities of trying to shift from one economic reality to another. In the unlikely event someone reads this and wants to reach out to discuss or to explore entering the profession, I’d be more than happy to help. Feel free to drop me an email at ian@ijclark.com.
Love and solidarity.
ijc
