The cost of being creative: how working-class young people are being systemically removed from the arts

Working-class young people are being pushed out of the arts long before their careers begin. In this first-hand account, musician and Fair Play founder Ynes reflects on being a former-NEET (not in education, employment or training), and how cuts, limited access and stigma shape who gets to pursue creativity, and who can't afford to stick with it.

From Noel Gallagher to Kate Nash - it feels as though every week there’s an artist hitting headlines by speaking on the costs (and debts) of touring, or the importance of grassroots venues, or the lack of real working-class talent in creative industries. And big ups to all of them, they’re bang on the money.

But as these dialogues spill out into comment sections (often descending into nepo-baby name-and-shames), I can’t help but notice the glaringly obvious. These issues are the tip of the iceberg. And while it’s no shock horror that even those musicians signed to major labels need day jobs to survive, the real systemic exclusion starts far earlier than this.

Where working-class creatives are filtered out

2008, for me. My drama studio had no heating, the department had barely any funding, and we were given whatever room the school no longer needed. We studied for the first two years in our old canteen, before moving into our old chapel (which has since fallen apart). Our Head of Drama – through sarcastic musings and a blunt tone – guided us to our own epiphany. The arts were not a priority.

Creative GCSE subjects - specifically Art & Design, Design & Technology (DT), Music, and Drama - have faced significant cuts in the UK, with entries falling by 47% since 2010. Much of this decline has been linked to the English Baccalaureate (EBacc), a school performance measure that prioritised academic subjects like English, maths and science over creative ones.

Because schools were judged on EBacc results, many reduced or removed arts options altogether – or steered students away from them – particularly in state schools with fewer resources. For working-class students, this often meant fewer opportunities to study creative subjects in the first place.

The EBacc was scrapped in November 2025 following criticism that it had decreased student participation in the creative arts. While this marks a shift in policy, its impact is still being felt – a step in the right direction rather than a fix-all solution. For 15 years, working-class students were either discouraged from choosing artistic subjects or weren't able to choose them at all.

2012, then. The idea of studying Photography had me excited for A Levels. I’d noticed the sixth form students going in and out of the dark room. I knew nothing of the process - but I was excited at the prospect of becoming the cool older student whose mysterious work existed first on film, then in a pitch-black closet, then possibly on a wall in a hallway somewhere. I was excited to study something that, for the first time, I could actually see myself being passionate about.

This passion was short-lived, however, as I was pulled out of lessons to discuss my options with our head of sixth form. ‘Discuss’, in this instance, meaning: listen to the nice lady tell you why taking Photography isn’t very enticing to prospective employers and potential universities.

This woman I’d only seen in passing, was doing the pity head tilt and asking if I was sure I didn’t want to take Philosophy & Ethics instead – given that it’s an easy grade and it would give me a real opportunity to get into a Russell Group University. My carrot. My golden ticket. My escape route out of Coventry. Hindsight is 20/20 - and so I wish I’d have said something like “are you asking me, or are you telling me?” but I didn’t, I just nodded and watched as she signed my name up for Philosophy & Ethics.

One great thing about the state school experience is that for as much as our education was definitively neglected, we had some f***ing great teachers who didn't hesitate to educate us on just how systemic injustice is.

I could’ve taken Textiles - but I would’ve had to travel across the city two days a week. So, I couldn’t. I briefly considered leaving Sixth Form and studying fashion at college - but at the time, BTEC qualifications carried the same stigma as ASBOs - and this would mean losing my golden ticket out of working-class Coventry.

It’s not that my dad was dismissive of my creative pursuits at all, but like many working-class parents, he was a realist. He bought me a starter guitar and encouraged me to practice - but the arts was never something I saw as even a potential day job. I knew no one who worked in the arts. The older I get, the more I realise it’s not that working-class parents are intentionally pessimistic, but more so that they’re trying to set their children up for success. And when the system is rigged, unfortunately this means being a realist.

When you fall out the system

All this talk of success, and after a year of studying English Lit, Geography, Spanish, and Drama - I dropped out and became NEET (not in education, employment or training).

I genuinely don’t remember the following year - but eventually I got a job cleaning hotel rooms for about 5 quid an hour. I then got an apprenticeship at Starbucks and was buzzing, mainly because they paid 21+ minimum wage (£6.70/hour) rather than apprenticeship wage (£3.30/hour). BALLER.

If working-class kids aren’t removed from the arts through limited options or subjects literally being removed, it is drilled into them on some level that they will simply fail. That they are being immature and silly by not prioritising what is attractive to employers. With music lessons, drama school, and even art supplies often costing a hefty fee, school can be the only place for many young people to find a creative outlet. By removing them from the curriculum and devaluing their importance, where does this leave those who need a creative outlet? And how does this affect them later down the line?

In a recent Greater Manchester-based Class Ceiling survey, a Bolton headteacher noted that this devaluation of the arts had led some students to resent school and commit truancy. The ‘Child of the North/Centre for Young Lives’ Report, released March 2025, found wider evidence to support this statement - notably that children are three times more likely to become NEET aged 16-18 when they disengage from the education system. And so, the EBacc myth is debunked. The alternative to art is not maths - it’s struggling to cope.

As someone who attended state school (I didn’t even know it was called a state school until about five years ago) and who struggled to feel that what I was really passionate about was valued – leading me to drop out of the system entirely at 17 – this isn’t just think tank research to me. This evidence validates my lived experience: having a hell of a time fighting for access to creativity, and (literally) failing when I lost the fight.

Since sitting in that cold drama studio, or our headteacher’s office, the arts never felt like an option. I didn’t know of anyone from my background or my city who had moved to London and made it - or even made it work. It frustrates me now more that I’m actively fighting for a space, because as a kid, it just felt totally dissonant from my reality. Everyone around me was working paid apprenticeships, or securing that great-paying job at Jag-Land Rover/Severn Trent/another factory.

As of 2025, 42% of state schools no longer offer GCSE Music, and 41% no longer offer GCSE Drama. And while The Daily Mail may share some strong opinions on weak university degrees with low return-on-investment, having ~60% of all children in the UK denied even the opportunity to study either one of these subjects is simply insane to fathom. The arts may not have an easy metric 'value' - but the value it can have on a person‘s wellbeing is immeasurable. Especially for working-class kids, who are statistically more likely to suffer from depression and anxiety, financial trauma and stress.

Why creativity still matters – and who gets to claim it

This, of course, doesn’t mean that some creatives don’t break the class ceiling. A friend of mine recently recounted their journey to studying Fashion at Coventry University, having come from a state school in the North-East of England. Afterwards, they received feedback that although they interviewed extremely well, their portfolio work was poor. Luckily, the interviewer acknowledged that this reflected the support (or lack thereof) they had received in the arts whilst at school. They went on to get a Master's Degree.

It’s a familiar trope - the working-class underdog. ‘Boy done good’ fictional characters like Billy Elliot join real-life examples of people like Alexander McQueen or Jason Statham in our collective consciousness of the exceptional working-class kid, the one in a million who made it. The success story. The ‘proof’ that meritocracy exists. Of course, it can happen. But we don’t talk about the thousands of Alexander McQueens who pushed their childhood dreams of designing clothes aside for a secure job and a stable life.

It’s not impossible. But it’s important to acknowledge that even those of us who do break the ceiling out of sheer determination will not automatically be on a level playing field. We will study degrees where resources are costly, internships are unpaid, and interviews are based in cities that cost a day’s wage on the train. We will spend our creative careers juggling freelance work with ‘real’ jobs, or gigs with hospitality shifts, or applying for grants with zero idea of what language it is we’re supposed to be speaking.

And despite all of this, I will always vouch for the fact that the benefits of creativity extend far beyond monetisation and career. I think working-class people tend to feel this imposter syndrome even at the thought of calling ourselves ~creatives~. For example, we might not call ourselves musicians, for fear that the title is reserved for someone far more qualified. We just say: “I make music”. The same applies to any discipline. But there is freedom in just doing. There is freedom in writing for fun and drawing for enjoyment, and making music just because you can. I think self-optimisation culture (or #grind culture) makes it especially hard not to feel guilty about this, but to me, that’s even more reason to do so. It’s an act of resistance.

I launched an online community called Fair Play a year ago, with the goal of finding like-minded working-class people who have a creative outlet in spite of it all. Musicians who self-teach GarageBand after work, photographers who spend most of their time behind the bar, anyone whose story you hear and think “fair f***ing play”. Initially, I was really paranoid I was gonna sound like I just had a massive chip on my shoulder - but our community has now grown to over 15,000 members. I run an interview series, a substack/website with a team of contributors, we’ve released a zine with all proceeds going to the Television Workshop and we recently started a WhatsApp community.

If you’re living in a shithole town, if you know ZERO people in the industry, if you feel as though your reality doesn’t align with any creative opportunities at all - please know that your people are out there. Your perspective is invaluable – protect it and don’t ever give it up. It’s not lost on me how many middle-class creatives choose to film music videos, TV series, and do their photography shoots on housing estates. You can adopt the aesthetic, but you cannot buy the working-class experience. Make that known. Go on anyway.