Post by Adesanya Ayotola (@adesanya_ayotola)

The Classism We Are Often Guilty of Without Knowing

One of the most subtle forms of classism is not always found in the way we treat people. Sometimes, it is found in the language we use. Listen carefully to how we speak about work. We call some jobs "odd jobs." We describe others as "cheap labour." We ask, "Would the citizens even do that job?" as though the worth of an occupation depends on who is willing to perform it rather than the value it creates.

But what exactly makes a job "odd"?

If a cleaner stops working, our offices, hospitals, and homes quickly become uninhabitable. If caregivers stop showing up, families and healthcare systems begin to struggle. If warehouse workers, refuse collectors, delivery drivers and farm workers disappear, society feels the impact almost immediately. There is nothing odd about work that keeps society functioning.

Perhaps what is odd is the hierarchy we have created around labour. Migration often exposes this contradiction. Many people relocate expecting that certain jobs are only temporary or beneath them. Then reality sets in. They discover that what they once dismissed as an "odd job" is, in many countries, a respected occupation that pays the bills, provides stability and makes a predictable life possible. The work may not be glamorous but it is honest. The basics of life are not luxuries, even if they are not cheap. Yet we still speak of these occupations as though they are somehow lesser.

Why?

Could it be that we have confused social status with human dignity? This is not to deny that exploitation exists. It does and it should always be challenged. But we should also be careful not to insult honest labour simply because it does not fit our idea of prestige. There is a difference between exploiting workers and looking down on the work itself. Sometimes our comparisons reveal more about us than about the job. We compare wages by converting currencies instead of considering purchasing power. We compare occupations by prestige instead of purpose. We compare migrants with citizens without first acknowledging that migration is a choice many people make with both opportunities and limitations attached.

Perhaps we need to ask ourselves a more uncomfortable question. When we describe honest work as "odd," are we describing the job, or are we revealing the quiet classism we have inherited?
Every honest occupation exists because someone needs it done. Every society depends on people whose names rarely appear on office doors or business cards. Their contribution is no less valuable because it comes without prestige. Maybe the dignity of work has never been determined by how impressive it sounds when introduced at a gathering. Maybe it has always been determined by whether it serves humanity with integrity. The real measure of a society is not how loudly it celebrates successful people, but how deeply it respects honest work in every form

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