Fitting In, Standing Out: A Personal Reflection on Class and Inclusivity
- Dr. Vaishali Singh
- Jun 10
- 3 min read
Updated: Jun 10
[This Blog is a part of A Conversation on Inclusivity Series]
I never thought of myself as “underprivileged.” I had a decent home, two hardworking parents who believed that education was the key to a better life. That seemed like enough. But I grew up in a small city, more often in the news for crime than for education. A city where English is a classroom subject, not the language of everyday life. A city where choosing law, especially over more conventional professions, is often met with confusion, not pride.
I didn’t realise how much that background shaped me until I stepped into law school. It was not just the polished English or the brand names people wore. I began to understand what class looks like, not in rupees, but in language, exposure, and confidence. I had worked just as hard, cleared the same exams, and yet felt like I had come through the back door of a party I was not invited to. It was not just the fluent, effortless English laced with jargon, it was how sure they seemed of themselves. They had the right accents, the right questions. I, on the other hand, was still figuring out how to pronounce “Jurisprudence.”
That is when I first began to understand how class operates, not always through money, but through language, exposure, and confidence. Coming from a small city and being a first-generation lawyer meant that I didn’t just have to work hard, I had to catch up constantly, often without any roadmap. It was not about lack of intelligence or effort; it was about lacking context.
Class in India hides in subtle places. It shows up in who speaks confidently during class discussions, who knows how to network after guest lectures. I began to notice how “merit” is often mistaken for polish, and how those who could articulate ideas in refined English were perceived as smarter, more capable. But I knew peers who were incredibly insightful, yet held back because they feared being misunderstood. And I saw myself in them.
But things began to shift, slowly and subtly. I stopped trying to perform belonging and started valuing what I brought into the room, my perspective, my resilience, and my willingness to learn. I found professors who cared more about what I was trying to say than how perfectly I said it. And most importantly, I found my voice, not perfect, but clear and mine.
Now, as I pursue a career in legal academia, I think constantly about students like me. The ones who walk in quietly, unsure if they belong. The ones who hold back, not because they are unprepared, but because they are unfamiliar with the hidden rules of elite education. For me, inclusivity doesn’t mean celebrating diversity in brochures or making token efforts. It means building classrooms where no one is made to feel small for not speaking a certain way or knowing a certain reference.
It also means challenging the idea that “merit” is neutral. Because it’s not. It is shaped by geography, schooling, language, and even how much silence you have been taught to carry. As a teacher, I want to be the kind of person I once needed, someone who listens between the lines, who mentors without judgment, and who sees potential where others see hesitation.
Even today, there are moments I feel out of place, in meetings, in highbrow academic circles. But I have stopped letting that feeling shrink me. If anything, it reminds me that I am in the right room. Because if everyone in the room has the same story, we are missing out on the truth.
Everyone’s presence in any space, regardless of their class background, carries profound meaning and value. It is not accidental or misplaced but a vital indicator of social progress and transformation. Each individual brings unique perspectives shaped by diverse experiences of language, exposure, and confidence, which challenge long-standing class-based assumptions and norms. Recognizing and valuing these differences fosters truly inclusive environments where the richness of varied class realities is not only acknowledged but also embraced. The inclusion of voices from all class backgrounds strengthens communities, broadens understanding, and moves society closer to greater equity and justice. This expansion of belonging matters, not only for individuals but for the collective well-being of all who share the space.
Dr. Vaishali Singh is an Assistant Professor (Selection Grade) at the School of Law, UPES, Dehradun.
{The opinions expressed herein are the author's own and do not necessarily reflect the views of the University.}





I truly resonate with this, ma’am. Merit is not neutral; it is shaped by our schooling, our home atmosphere, and even by how much silence we have been taught to carry, especially as girls. Thank you for sharing this reflection!
This really hit home. I have had privilege in many ways, through caste, class, and access. But law school made me realise how much language, especially English, shapes who feels like they belong. I have felt that hesitation, that quiet doubt, even when I knew I had something to say. Thank you for putting it into words so honestly and beautifully!