Introduction: inequality feels …

After the 45-minute drive in from the outer suburbs, Sharon tells her mum to drop her off a block from the venue. There are not many 1998 model Camrys in this part of town. She enters the Town Hall ballroom slowly, not sure what to expect. She has never been in a room like this before, let alone to the Law Students’ Annual Gala. Men are wearing tight-fitting suits and women are in designer dresses, sipping wine out of huge glasses. They are talking about future investment properties and holidays on the Amalfi Coast. Sharon has struggled to make friends in the first year of her law degree. The equity scholarship helps, but she must still buy second-hand textbooks. She sits by herself in tutorials. A big group of people about a metre away, who act like they are long-lost friends, laugh loudly. She feels underdressed and underpaid. A layer of sweat begins to cover her forehead. A feeling that she needs to get out of there washes over her, but she grabs a beer from the open bar instead. I’m going to need a few of these, she thinks to herself. Just get through it. It's hard to explain: this discomfort and anxiety. This is affect. This is a moment where class and gender are made and remade, not as structural relations, but as embodied, visceral experience.

Alan waits at the gates, excited. He can see his two mates Daz and Matt coming and a third boy he doesn't recognize. Born in Sydney 15 years ago, he is about to watch his beloved Sydney Swans play the hated Collingwood Magpies on the hallowed turf of the Sydney Cricket Ground. He is wearing a Swans jersey and scarf, and this is the first year his parents have let him buy a season ticket out of his own pocket money. His friends arrive and Daz says: “Hey Al, this is Jordan. He's taking our extra ticket.” “Cool,” Al says. They turn towards the stadium, and Daz and Matt continue their conversation, while Al and Jordan make the awkward small talk of teenagers who have just met. “Where you from?” Jordan asks. “Bankstown,” says Al. “No, where you really from?” responds Jordan, with slight incredulity. Al sighs. His parents were both born in Sydney, and his grandparents were Vietnamese refugees.