Insecurity at Houghton: Why an escapist festival can actually make you feel worse than normal

(If you don't like massively over-thinking cultural or social phenomena, this won't be for you.)

You might have noticed this subreddit is startlingly self-aware. Maybe you’ve seen posts complaining about everything from hearing a privately educated accent, to what people were wearing, what they were or weren't recording on their phones, the size of their groups, the invisible rules of etiquette they did or didn’t break. You might have wondered why the tone of these posts can come across as prickly, even from a place of disproportionate pain: how can someone else’s minor behaviour, background, taste, or appearance cause you that level of discomfort?

What I’m proposing in this totally unnecessary thesis is that much of the frustration expressed on this subreddit may not really be about objective irritation from posh accents, fuzzy hats or jarring sunglasses. It might really be about insecurity, comparison, and status anxiety.

Before I get into it, let me clarify I’m not about to judge anyone who feels like that. It's the exact opposite: I sympathise, because I’ve struggled with these feelings my whole life.

Firstly, it's Britain, so to understand this, we have to start with class. The lines which divide British society have become increasingly disconnected from tangible economic factors, but taste remains as one of the few things we have left to ascertain a person’s class - and, therefore, on a deep, sometimes shameful level, their worth in our eyes. For me, the problems always start here, because for those who exist in the hinterland between classes and social groups, the pressure of these fault lines is unavoidable even in regular life. You are more likely to notice the perceived worth of other people, constricted through the shallow and superficial visual signifiers which you mostly see posted about here (style, accents, vibe, etiquette). This might then lead you to reflecting involuntarily on your own worth. And sadly, you will often fixate on those who you deem to be worth more than you.

So here’s the frustrating paradox: you go to a festival to escape your life, your job, your identity. Society’s expectations and constraints. To forget status. To feel liberated. Dance, sniff your house keys. Maybe even dare to expect something as old fashioned as a heightened feeling of connection with those around you.

But what you encounter at Houghton at times feels less like a shelter from the white heat of society, and more like a magnifying glass that focuses its excoriating rays. The old familiar feelings of inferiority, frustration and bitterness don’t go away. Amidst swathes of hot, shiny, happy, rich people, and in a sleep deprived and anxious brain, they multiply.

All of us struggle with feelings of insecurity and inferiority. Some more than others. As an example, I grew up poor in a middle class area. I had plenty of mates, but for whatever reason, never a single “big group”. I was always very aware of a feeling of alienation and disconnection from the people around me. I never really felt like I fit in. I compared myself to those around me to a neurotic degree.

I’m sure most people won’t want to admit this because it’s embarrassing and scary, but this is why Houghton can mess with our heads. It’s an unnaturally high concentration of good looking, seemingly-wealthy, loud-laughing, whimsical hat-wearing middle to upper class people, many in big groups of seemingly deliriously joyful mates. So what comes next is inevitable: you compare yourself. Am I having that much fun? Am I that good looking? Is my hat that whimsical? Do I have that many mates? And often, because you’re comparing their outside to your inside, your answer will be no.

What happens next is up to you. Maybe you choose to be hurt, to go along with the feeling, and ultimately take it out on those people who’ve triggered these feelings in you. Or maybe you choose to reflect on that feeling. To not run away or avoid it. To start to wonder, to use it to learn, to ask yourself questions: why do I feel like this? What do I value in other people? What do I really value in myself? What makes people worth more than others? Going deeper: what type of person am I? What type of person do I want to be?

None of which is easy. It's the work of a lifetime to remember to simply be grateful for what you have. But it's work that's worth doing, and it's probably going to make us happier than getting turbo rattled by a cunt in two hats.

(If you want a shortcut, just get a cat or a dog. They’ll never know what class you are, whether you film sets at Terminus, or if you talk a bit too loudly on the dance floor. They will love you just the same.)