Where We Stand: Class Matters

hooks opens with the assertion that anyone who has grown up without financial security understands the ache of wanting what money can buy but not having the means to obtain it. This experience is not exclusive to the poor; it also shapes those who live in households where money is plentiful but tightly controlled, particularly in patriarchal families where men withhold resources as a tool of dominance. hooks’s childhood was steeped in this kind of financial tension. Her father, embodying traditional patriarchal values, dictated household spending, keeping his actual earnings a secret from her mother. He determined how much money she was given, and if the amount fell short, her mother had to plead for more. While their father viewed providing only basic necessities as sufficient, her mother understood the importance of small pleasures. This unspoken battle over money created a constant strain in their household.

Despite these constraints, hooks’s mother was resourceful, stretching limited funds to cover family needs. She never voiced resentment over their father’s lack of generosity, nor did she openly acknowledge financial struggles. Instead, she framed their situation as one of relative abundance, as hooks notes: “From her perspective we were doing well, better than most working folks with large families to feed” (53). However, hooks’s mother’s silence mirrored the financial manipulation she endured, as she, too, exerted control over the money her children earned from odd jobs, using it to supplement household expenses.

As hooks grew older, she developed a complex relationship with money, On one hand, she adopted an ascetic mindset, finding it easier to detach from material desires rather than dwell on what she could not afford. As a child, she fantasized about joining a religious order, drawn to the simplicity of a life without material excess. Yet when she entered college, she found herself overwhelmed by class distinctions—particularly in clothing. At times, she considered stealing, a temptation heightened by her white roommate’s shoplifting. While store clerks monitored hooks for theft, her roommate easily pocketed expensive items without suspicion.

Her experience in higher education reinforced her awareness of class hierarchy. At elite universities, wealthier students flaunted their privilege, while those from working-class backgrounds struggled to keep up. Unlike her affluent peers, she had no family money to fall back on—”Debt was all I could imagine inheriting from my family’ (57). Over time, she learned to be financially savvy through thrifting, budgeting, and striving for self-sufficiency.

hooks’s relationship with money became more complex in adulthood. She and her partner, both from working-class backgrounds, initially rejected materialism, viewing themselves as “bohemians” rather than working-class. However, financial stress crept in, and she found herself accumulating debt, struggling to reconcile her desire for financial independence with the reality of economic dependence in a relationship. When they separated, hooks’s income dropped drastically, forcing her to confront the financial vulnerability that often accompanies long-term partnerships.

hooks also confronted class privilege while teaching at Yale, where she became aware of how wealth was hidden—conversations about money were considered impolite, masking the ways privilege was passed down through inheritance and financial knowledge. Unlike her privileged colleagues, she had never been taught about savings, investments, or financial planning, and had to learn those skill on her own.

With her rising income, hooks found herself becoming more possessive of material objects, recounting how buying an expensive used car made her protective of her belongings. When a friend borrowed the car and returned it needing repairs, she felt resentment she had never experienced before. This moment illuminated a dangerous shift: acquiring wealth often leads to greater attachment, fostering a fear of loss rather than a willingness to share.

Greed, hooks argues, is not confined to the wealthy but can manifest in anyone. Recognizing this vulnerability, she emphasizes the importance of resisting over-identification with material objects. True economic justice, she insists, requires financial awareness and a commitment to resource-sharing—values that challenge the culture of greed that dominates American society.

hooks argues that greed is a near-universal human experience, first encountered in childhood through desires for food and possessions. Though many are taught that excessive desire is harmful, modern consumer culture has erased these lessons, normalizing the pursuit of material excess—”greed becomes the order of the day” (64). Once rooted in communal values, American society has shifted toward individualism, with wealth disparities growing while concern for economic justice declines.

Former radicals, once committed to simple living, have largely assimilated into capitalist structures, prioritizing personal financial gain. With their insider knowledge of marginalized communities, they become key players in marketing luxury consumption to the poor. The media reinforces the illusion of a classless society, using token success stories to suggest that anyone can “make it” while erasing systemic barriers.

Nowhere is this exploitation more visible than in the drug trade, where predatory capitalism thrives. Drug economies offer temporary wealth and status, turning once-stable communities into war zones. Addicts, stripped of their ability to function, devastate their own neighborhoods, while the government fails to intervene. As hooks notes: ”If they were not [sanctioned], law enforcement would rid our streets of drugs” (68). Meanwhile, media narratives shift focus from class warfare to crime, ensuring that the root cause of poverty remain unchallenged.

hooks warns that greed fuels inequality across all social classes, convincing even the poor to think like the rich. By making greed seem natural, capitalism discourages resistance. To fight economic injustice, she argues, we must reject the ideology of excess and restore collective responsibility.

hooks examines how the rich protect their class interests while obscuring discussions of wealth. Openly speaking about money is taboo, yet wealth is displayed through material possessions. Wealthy individuals often fear being exploited by those seeking financial assistance, reinforcing their detachment from the poor.

Growing up, hooks was surrounded by working-class people who longed for financial security but did not aspire to wealth. Religious teachings framed riches as dangerous, warning that wealth led to greed and exploitation. Television, however, reshaped these attitudes. By glorifying consumerism and depicting the rich as generous, relatable, and hardworking, mass media helped erase class awareness. Meanwhile, poor and working-class people disappeared from television, except as criminals in cop dramas, further cementing negative stereotypes.

hooks argues that tabloid journalism and celebrity culture further encourage identification with the wealthy. Events such as Princess Diana’s death become national obsessions, allowing the public to indulge in fantasies of fame and fortune while ignoring class realities. The illusion of a class-free society, promoted by media and politics, discourages collective action against inequality—as hooks’s notes: “Mass media has been the pedagogical tool used to teach the poor and working class to think like the rich” (77).

Despite these social undercurrents, the rich remain deeply aware of class distinctions, working to maintain their economic dominance. Many, even those with progressive values, focus on preserving their wealth rather than redistributing it. hooks argues that true economic justice requires recognizing that material abundance should be shared, not hoarded, for a more equitable society.