I am a Snob

Seriously. I mean, I know being raised by an uber classist mom means that some of that is necessary, but my history in the theater and my liberal arts education tried very hard to ground me to the roots of the people...I try so hard to not be any kind of "ist" but today I failed.

I belong to my neighborhood YMCA, a different Y then where I volunteer and go to camp...my local Y is where I work out, as it is only 4 blocks from my house and is very convenient. It is also very ghetto. It's funny, because the senior directors are by in large very obviously from comfortable backgrounds (hi Suz), once you make your way into an exercise class or the workout room, the socio-economic level presents itself handily. Even getting most of the front desk staff to smile (they tend to look like extras in some angry musician's video, you see...) is more impossible than getting through the Sadist's step class without breaking a sweat. And usually, I like it. I like working out next to people who I don't ordinarily spend time with. It's also one of the things about Magnolia's school that I particularly appreciate, the very real diversity of the students and families there don't let me take anything for granted. It isn't without its challenges, it isn't always ideal, but I do appreciate it. So at the Y, I sweat next to people with whom I have practically nothing in common, and I like it. Usually.

Listen, I went to college because it was expected. I didn't go where I wanted, I didn't study what I wanted, I did what I thought I should do, because my parents (both immigrants) and their parents had higher education, and therefore not doing it wasn't even an option. Where I was going was barely an option. It certainly doesn't make me a better person. The best thing UCLA gave me was Michael (even though I graduated before we met). But I have lots and lots of friends who didn't go to college for a myriad of reasons, and many of those people are brilliant. I know plenty of people who went to college who are none too bright, so when I talk about my particular form of classism, it isn't so much about upper education...it's more about a state of mind.

So I take this cardio class called Zumba. It's a latin/salsa/hip hop dance class that is super fun. It is easily the most popular class at the Y, upwards of 50 people ranging in age from 11-90 typically take the Thursday night class. I've been going for around a year, although I often miss the night classes due to my Musical Theater class...but I am there a lot, and the teacher often has me lead songs on my own or come up next to her to help her teach the dances. This, to me, is super comic. But, I am a ham and never really mind the spotlight, even if it makes me (me!) an aerobics instructor. Today, I came in late and was towards the back, so I stayed in my place throughout the class. At one point, the teacher had us partner up and freestyle salsa dance with our partner. This used to be a staple in the class, but has seemed to not happen as much lately. My partner's name was Claudia...I had never seen her in class before, but she was closest to me...so partner we did.

The music is loud, and all we are required to do is shake our booties, but I always feel compelled to introduce myself, and make a little small talk, at least as we begin. I size up the partner and decide to start in Spanish...which I do, by asking her name. That part goes clunkily, as first she thinks I am asking something else...and then proceeds to ask me if this is my first night in the class. I say no, and ask if it is hers, she says no, she's been 6 times. A little judgmentally she says she's never seen ME there before. I smile, say we must have different schedules, and try for names again. This time, I get Claudia, but she doesn't ask for my name back, so I give it. Of course the combination of the loud salsa music blaring, the booty shaking, and the fact that I have a weird ass name makes this relatively unsuccessful. Continue the booty shaking. I notice 2 little girls dancing on their own on the patio outside and comment on how cute they are. She asks if they are mine, and I say no. We continue to have a conversation about whether we have children and how many, sexes, etc, and I get this OVERWHELMING feeling of "I'm better than you.". And it rocks me, cause honestly, I have no reason to feel this way. The only reason I do is because I am an elitist. I try not to be, but it comes out, bubbles over, and I would never ever make it apparent to the outside world, but everything in my body was looking at Claudia shaking her tush and thinking that she was kind of a peasant, in the words of my mother.

And that made me feel guilty, which is unfortunate, because for Lent, I gave up guilt. Maybe I should have given up being a snob.