People who mock “proper manners” often carry these 8 class wounds they won’t admit

Ever catch yourself rolling your eyes when someone mentions which fork to use at dinner? I used to be that person.

Growing up in a middle-class suburb with parents who valued education above everything else, I thought manners were just stuffy rules for people trying to seem important.

My mother, a teacher, and my father, an engineer, taught me to value substance over style. So when I entered the finance world, I secretly judged colleagues who cared about etiquette, thinking they were shallow or pretentious.

But here's what took me years to realize: my dismissiveness wasn't actually about the manners themselves. It was about something much deeper, something I wasn't ready to admit.

After leaving finance to become a writer, I lost most of those colleagues as friends. The experience taught me who was authentic, but it also forced me to look at my own judgments.

In my late thirties, while confronting my privilege and learning about intersectionality, I discovered that my mockery of "proper manners" was actually masking some pretty uncomfortable truths about class wounds I'd been carrying.

If you find yourself scoffing at etiquette or dismissing social graces as unnecessary, you might be carrying similar wounds. Let's explore what's really going on beneath the surface.

1) Fear of being exposed as "not belonging"

When we mock manners, we're often protecting ourselves from feeling inadequate. Think about it: if you declare that formal dining rules are stupid, you never have to worry about using the wrong fork and looking foolish.

I remember attending a fancy work dinner early in my finance career. Everyone seemed to know exactly what to do with the multiple glasses and utensils. Instead of admitting I felt lost, I made jokes about how ridiculous it all was. Classic defense mechanism, right?

The truth is, many of us who grew up without exposure to certain social conventions feel like imposters in formal settings. Rather than learning these skills and risking mistakes, we dismiss them entirely. It's easier to say "this is stupid" than to say "I don't know how to do this."

2) Resentment toward those who had it "easier"

Do you ever feel a twinge of annoyance when someone effortlessly navigates a cocktail party or formal event? That irritation might be rooted in resentment.

Some people learned these social graces from childhood, attending country clubs, formal dinners, or private schools where etiquette was part of the curriculum. When we see them glide through these situations, it can trigger feelings of unfairness. Why should they have this advantage just because of where they were born?

The mockery becomes a way to level the playing field, at least in our minds. If we can make their skills seem worthless, we don't have to feel inferior about not having them.

3) Conflating manners with moral superiority

There's this assumption that people who care about proper etiquette think they're better than everyone else. And sometimes, honestly, that's true. But often, we're projecting our own insecurities onto them.

When I was labeled "gifted" in elementary school, there was immense pressure to be perfect in every way. But perfection in academics didn't translate to social sophistication. So I created a narrative where being "real" and "authentic" meant rejecting social conventions. Anyone who followed them must be fake, right?

Wrong. Many people practice good manners simply because they want others to feel comfortable and respected. Our assumption that they're being snobby might say more about our wounds than their intentions.

4) Shame about our own background

Sometimes mockery is a preemptive strike against judgment we fear is coming. If we make fun of fancy manners first, no one can make fun of us for not knowing them.

This shame can run deep, especially if we've experienced moments where our lack of knowledge was exposed. Maybe someone corrected your pronunciation of a French dish, or you felt embarrassed not knowing proper business card etiquette in a professional setting.

Rather than sitting with that discomfort and learning from it, we might choose to reject the entire system. It's a protective mechanism, but it keeps us stuck.

5) Association of etiquette with oppression

For many of us, traditional etiquette feels tied to outdated hierarchies and exclusion. And historically, that's often been true. Manners have been used as gatekeepers, ways to identify who belongs and who doesn't.

But here's what I've learned: understanding these social codes actually gives us more power, not less. When we know the rules, we can choose when to follow them and when to break them intentionally. Ignorance doesn't free us; knowledge does.

6) Fear of losing authenticity

There's this idea that learning proper manners means becoming someone you're not. Like you'll suddenly turn into a stuffy, uptight person who can't relax or be genuine.

I held this fear for years. What if caring about etiquette meant I'd lose my edge, my realness? But manners aren't about becoming fake. They're tools for navigating different situations. You don't lose yourself by expanding your toolkit.

7) Unprocessed anger about class barriers

Let's be honest: class divisions are real, and they're painful. When certain manners are used to maintain those divisions, anger is a completely valid response.

But mocking all social graces doesn't dismantle class barriers. It just keeps us on the outside, angry and excluded. The real power move? Learn the codes, then use that knowledge to help others feel included, not shut out.

8) Difficulty accepting that small things matter

When you've been taught that only big achievements count (hello, "gifted" kid syndrome), it's hard to accept that small gestures like thank-you notes or proper introductions actually matter.

We want to believe that our work should speak for itself, that our intelligence or talent should be enough. But humans are social creatures. The small courtesies, the little signs of respect and consideration, they build relationships and open doors.

Dismissing these as trivial might protect us from having to master yet another set of skills, but it also limits our ability to connect and succeed in various environments.

Moving forward with compassion

Recognizing these wounds isn't about beating yourself up. It's about understanding why you react the way you do and deciding if that reaction still serves you.

I've learned that proper manners, at their best, aren't about superiority or exclusion. They're about making others feel comfortable and showing respect. Yes, they've been weaponized by some, but that doesn't mean we should throw out the entire concept.

If you recognize yourself in any of these wounds, consider this: What if learning certain social graces isn't betraying your roots or becoming fake? What if it's just adding more tools to your toolkit, tools that help you move through different spaces with confidence?

You don't have to become someone you're not. You're just becoming someone with more options. And there's nothing wounded about that.