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Until publishing’s entry-level salaries change, no true progress is possible.
In an attempt to tackle racial inequalities in publishing, many companies have introduced initiatives to help marginalised people of colour gain experience in the field. Although these initiatives have been slow, the “barrier” which is really inhibiting people of colour from participating fully in the industry is unsurprisingly salary.
But first, let’s talk about the political implications of using the word “barrier”. I use the word barrier with disdain as I believe this word does not do justice to how racism is deeply entrenched in every facet of society, let alone the British publishing industry. By using the word “barrier”, corporations express that the publishing sector merely inhibits marginalised people from accessing the industry, rather than disclosing the ways in which they contribute to that inhibition. In other words, there are rules, principles and people who install these “barriers” and guard the entrances where they are stationed. The word “barrier” then, obfuscates the active processes which sustain racism, making the objective to end racial oppression an individual effort; a motive as futile as individual recycling when we know big companies and their policies are the major contributors to the negative consequences of climate change.
When we delve deeper into the common practices of publishing (not “barriers”), the deeply racist policies of the industry are evident in their entry level salaries. It is well known that employment opportunities in publishing are concentrated down south, disproportionately impacting Northern working class people. But the opportunities presented down in London/Oxford are no magical ride for working class people in the south. Most entry-level jobs are offered with an average salary of £23-24k in 2024, the subsidy presenting itself in the glorious title of “editorial assistant”. The logic follows that there is no need to raise the salary for a job that is so desired, where there is no shortage of applications from fresh graduate students desperate for opportunities in the industry.
The racism becomes evident once we analyse who can afford to take up publishing roles in expensive cities such as London and Oxford, where many contracts are only offered on a hybrid basis. From here we see the middle-class signifiers inherent in the people who are able to afford jobs with salaries that are dire. If your parents or partners are subsidising your rent, if you have some form of generational wealth, or you’re willing to work four extra jobs, this role is perfect for you!
I was hushed to be grateful and told to be silent, that the love and tough entry in the role was something to be proud of
It is marginalised working class people of colour who are hit hardest by austerity policies, and disproportionately saturate precarious jobs. Unsurprisingly, it is marginalised working class people of colour who are unable to afford their dream jobs in publishing, despite being hired for the role. The “barrier” of salary then, is not a passive inhibitor but a company policy which can be changed, or at least discussed, by those who have free access into the building (and significantly higher salaries).
Of course, salary affects working class marginalised people in different ways; for students and workers on visas, there are a myriad of additional payments to consider: NHS surcharges, visa applications (costing upwards of 2k) and not to mention the psychological pressure of finding a job within two years that fulfil the new oppressive work visa restrictions. A £24k to £38k jump within two years seems highly unlikely for qualified candidates on a visa whose dream job is in publishing.
Perhaps every single graduate student who struggles for years on an entry-level salary should not have to pay their dues by sofa surfing and intermittent fasting to save money on meals. The glamorous role of assistant in some editorial department is not only subsidised by other people – if you’re well connected to money – but for working class people, wages are subsidised by love. My gratitude for being in a dream job was never expressed enough, even when I was sofa surfing in full-time employment. In other words, the love you have for your job should be sufficient renumeration to keep you afloat. At one point I recall sharing my grief with a mentor who I really respected in the industry, only to be told that I was not grateful enough for the opportunity that so many people are dreaming of. My grief was not my job but the realisation that the source to end my financial burdens was actually becoming the cause.
In this way, I was hushed to be grateful and told to be silent, that the love and tough entry in the role was something to be proud of. Of course, I feel deeply blessed, but I can also want a decent standard of living. These two feelings are not mutually exclusive.
In line with the very British character of being absurdly quiet about your grievances, British people are famously awkward about discussing salary. In a society which is deeply obsessed with class, it is hardly shocking that salary is perceived as a taboo topic or personal information. But how personal is systemic racism, sexism and marginalisation? Structural issues require structural change, and the norms which propagate these structures can actively change. People can choose to talk about salary just as much as senior management can choose to discuss the appropriateness of entry-level salaries in a cost-of-living crisis.