Marrying someone often means entering a whole new world. You don’t just get a partner—you also join a family with their own habits and unspoken rules. I faced this firsthand when I married my partner, who grew up in an upper-middle-class family, while I came from a more modest background. Let me share some lessons I learned about class, identity, and authenticity.
When I first visited my in-laws, I made the mistake of showing up in my trail-running clothes. While I was muddy and casual, everyone else looked polished in pressed shirts and nice shoes. I felt out of place. Over time, I realized that for many upper-middle-class families, appearances are more than just looks; they reflect values such as control and success. I adjusted my wardrobe to find a balance between comfort and looking presentable.
Talking about money can also be tricky. Growing up, I was used to analyzing budgets and expenses. At family gatherings, I made a comment about kitchen renovations, only to be met with silence and a quick topic change. I learned that in this social circle, money is often discussed indirectly. Instead of asking about cost, I started asking about choices to keep conversations flowing without offending anyone. This shift helped me stay true to my analytical nature without stepping on toes.
Food played a significant role too. As a vegan, my first family dinner was an eye-opener. I brought a lentil dish, assuming it would serve as a backup, but soon felt like I had broken a rule. Food choices can signify deeper meanings, and what we eat can express our relationships. To bridge this gap, I began discussing my dietary needs ahead of time and framed it as sharing, generating a sense of community around meals. This effort made everyone feel included while respecting my choices.
Networking amongst family and friends felt like an Olympic sport. Each gathering came with introductions that felt strategic, manipulating social connections. At first, I was put off by the transactional nature of it. But I realized that for my in-laws, helping each other succeed is a form of loyalty. By approaching conversations from a place of authentic curiosity rather than seeing them as opportunities, I found genuine connections without feeling exhausted from constant self-promotion.
Conflict resolution was different too. Back in my family, disagreements could be loud and clear. In my in-laws’ home, conflict is often masked by politeness. I learned that if I sensed tension, it was best to address it privately rather than bringing it up in group settings. Asking gentle questions about feelings after gatherings allowed for open dialog without causing an awkward atmosphere.
Gift-giving was another learning experience. The first birthday I celebrated with my in-laws, I gave a modest but thoughtful gift. I quickly realized that my gift stood out in a sea of expensive, lavish presents. In this family, gifts often carry a social weight tied to class expectations. To avoid feeling cheap, I focused on thoughtful and sustainable gifts that align with my values, reminding myself that love isn’t measured by price tags.
Finally, achievement seemed to be the norm. Everyone was striving for success—advanced school programs for kids, impressive job titles, and enriching vacations. This “success culture” made me question my own worth. But I learned that a meaningful life isn’t solely about achievements. I started adding to the conversation in ways that highlighted different forms of success, like personal happiness and fulfillment, rather than just professional milestones.
Ultimately, navigating a different class background is like moving to a new country. It can feel daunting, but it’s also a chance for growth. You learn to recognize your own habits while deciding what parts of this new culture to embrace. Above all, it’s crucial to remain true to yourself while respecting where others come from.
For anyone facing similar challenges, remember this: It’s all about learning the language of your new surroundings and choosing when to speak in it—and when to stand firm in your own voice.
