I?was the first in my family to go to university, from a part of the North where creative careers weren’t even on the radar. Education felt like the only way out. I believed it would be a ladder – and in many ways, it was. But ladders don’t prepare you for what it feels like once you’ve climbed them.
As a professor working across media, culture and higher education, I now find myself in rooms I couldn’t have imagined at the start of my career. Yet even at this level – leading research projects, supporting Equity, Diversity and Inclusion (EDI) work, mentoring colleagues – I notice the unspoken codes of confidence, polish and pedigree that quietly signal who belongs.
The creative academy likes to think of itself as inclusive. In media, arts and cultural studies, we celebrate diversity. We platform marginalised voices. We teach decolonial theory, critical race studies and feminist media histories. But when it comes to class, something often goes curiously quiet. Yet class does not operate in isolation. It intersects with race, gender, geography and disability to shape who feels they belong.
Class is part of the often invisible architecture of exclusion in cultural education. It shapes who studies creative subjects, who leads them and whose research is valued. And yet it is rarely named in sector strategies. Too often, it is folded into vague notions of “disadvantage” if it is mentioned at all.
I’ve spoken with many students – talented, generous, perceptive – who have told me they feel out of place in lecture halls and studios. They don’t share the same cultural references. They don’t feel confident interrupting. They worry about how they sound, what they wear, whether their ideas are “clever” enough.
This isn’t about ability. It is about atmosphere, the unspoken norms of tone, tempo and taste that reward prior fluency.
At postgraduate level, the barriers deepen. Funding is inconsistent. Networks are opaque. And the hidden curriculum of academic research – conferences, collaborations, cultural capital – remains largely unspoken. I’ve mentored brilliant doctoral and early career researchers who hesitate to take space in academic settings, not because they don’t belong but because they’ve absorbed the idea that they don’t.
These?dynamics aren’t theoretical. Even in senior academic spaces, meetings, research leadership, policy work, one can feel, at times, like crossing cultures. That doesn’t mean doubting one’s place but it does mean recognising how structural norms shape the?environment we all work in.
Campus resource: White privilege doesn’t exist for working-class men in higher education
In the?wider creative industries, the stats are familiar: overwhelmingly middle class, London-centric, structured around unpaid labour and informal access. My current Arts and Humanities Research Council-funded research,?, in partnership with the BBC and Channel 4, explores how these?constraints?operate in?media and broadcast contexts. But these dynamics in industry have clear parallels in the academy. From degree access to leadership hiring, there is subtle but persistent gatekeeping: assumptions about polish, mobility and credibility that often favour the already fluent.
Research Excellence and Knowledge Excellence frameworks talk about impact and engagement, and there is growing interest in inclusive methodologies. Yet class, as a structuring axis of academic culture, receives limited attention. It is rarely a stand-alone category in EDI planning. And we know that lived experience informs research priorities, methods and partnerships. The relative invisibility of class is not accidental. It reflects who has historically had the power to set the terms.
Making change possible
This isn’t about deficit. It is about institutional design. Universities genuinely want to be inclusive, especially those with creative and civic missions. But to truly deliver on that promise, they must make class visible and actionable. And inclusion must recognise how class intersects with other forms of structural inequality.
First, recognise class explicitly as an EDI category.?Not just buried in socio-economic indicators but named clearly with proper data, interventions and accountability.
Second, embed class awareness explicitly within curriculum design and teaching practice. Inclusive education often prioritises race, gender and decolonising perspectives but class must also be named and addressed to ensure all students see their experiences reflected and respected.
Third, reform doctoral and postdoctoral access.?Invest in pre-PhD accelerators, fairer funding models and structured mentoring that builds social capital.
Fourth, we need to continue rethinking engagement.?Public engagement is increasingly understood as reciprocal and relational, shaped with the communities we serve. Recognising the trust-building work many academics already do is key to making this leadership visible.
Finally, diversify who leads.?The academy cannot claim equity while leadership reflects only a narrow slice of experience. Value non-linear careers, varied communication styles and leadership born from service, not just seniority.
Towards real change
There are signs of change. Research clusters, civic-university partnerships and inclusive pedagogy frameworks are shifting the conversation. At my own institution, I’ve been fortunate to help lead EDI and research culture change, collaborating with partners to open these conversations. These are not add-ons – they are part of what makes creative universities matter. True transformation will take clarity, courage and collaboration across the sector to share what works and hold ourselves accountable.
The class ceiling in higher education isn’t just about access; it is about how our systems feel, sound and function. Until we name how class operates within academic systems, we will keep reproducing the very hierarchies we aim to dismantle.
The students and scholars who feel out of place aren’t imagining it. They are responding to signals we haven’t yet disrupted. It is time we changed that, not with a press release, but with real practice. And that change is possible if we choose it.
Beth Johnson is professor of television and media at the University of Leeds. She is principal investigator on the Arts and Humanities Research Council-funded research project?What’s on? Rethinking class in the television industry?(2023-2026).
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