Whenever I tell people I’m from St. Louis, about 90% of the time I get the same question: What high school did you go to?

When most people hear this seemingly surface-level question, it feels like a quick courtesy to get to know the other person better. However, in St. Louis, this question operates quite differently. St. Louisans use an individual’s high school to infer their socioeconomic status, what municipality they live in (which comes with its own assumptions), and even their religion. 

This question is not always utilized in good faith. Many locals refer to the asking of this question as part of the “St. Louis culture,” and it is seen most throughout the various private Catholic schools, but also bleeds into non-denominational and public schools. Kirkwood High School’s student-run newspaper, The Kirkwood Call, has an article on “What your St. Louis high school says about you” by Madeleine Krewet that displays this perfectly. Krewet describes those who went to Mary Institute and Saint Louis Country Day School as people who don’t fully grasp the concept of money, received the car of their dreams at 16, and will raise their kids the same way in 20 years. Furthermore, she calls Chaminade the school of “future frat boys” and says that “being an SJA (St. Joseph’s Academy) angel means one thing, you are a basic girl. The weekends are a time to find new boys to hook up with.”  

This continues throughout the article, covering various schools in the area. I do not subscribe to these preconceived judgements. In fact, my mom was an “SJA angel,” so reading that last line made me physically cringe. As stated before, this article originates from a local high school, so the opinions are heavily biased towards their own institution; however, it poses interesting questions. How did these assumptions arise so differently in each school, and do these stereotypes still follow individuals past their high school years?

The St. Louis Public Radio (STLPR) was also intrigued by this phenomenon and partnered with the Missouri History Museum to ask the St. Louis population whether the question “Where did you go to high school?” connects or divides the community. Many of the respondents said that the question is largely rooted in socioeconomic differences. Emma Mitchell, a current high school senior at Nerinx Hall High School (who The Kirkwood Call called pick-mes) at the time when the study was conducted (March 2016), says that “Asking [the question] is a cagey way of sussing out a person’s level of privilege.” Alternatively, a considerable number of respondents also claimed that the question is used in a more lighthearted way “because [they] stay close with classmates as lifetime friends.” STLPR ended the interview asking Mitchell how people 50 years in the future would see the St. Louis high school experience, and her response was “I think they’ll see a lot of division but also a lot of connection.” Honestly, if that line alone isn’t a motto of St. Louis, I’m not sure what is.

While all St. Louisans root for the same sports teams and all share a love of toasted raviolis, St. Louis is one of the most divided cities I have ever been to. The city can feel completely different just by driving a few blocks away, and there are wealth disparities everywhere. While this originated in 1876 when the city of St. Louis and St. Louis County separated into two independent entities, redlining throughout the 1930s created lasting racial and socioeconomic inequalities across the city. The University of Richmond launched a website detailing how inequality was mapped in the United States across the New Deal period. As seen on their map, the same racist restrictions etched in St. Louis in the 1930s are still prevalent throughout the city today. Areas like Clayton, one of the wealthiest and mostly white municipalities, are seen on the redlining map as green, indicating that it is most desirable with the least amount of “African American encroachment.” However, zones closer to East St. Louis are red, labeled as “hazardous” and “slum communities” that mostly consist of Black populations. 

With this historical division in mind, even if meant free of ill intent, should the “St. Louis Question” be as popular as it is today? In my opinion, no. Even with a push to minimize wealth disparities through affordable housing and supporting minority-owned businesses, the assumptions made about each municipality and high school are rooted in racist and classist systems. Even if the question is part of St. Louis’ culture, we should ask ourselves: Is that the culture we want? Do we want to be defined by division when our city’s history is plagued by it? As both a WashU student and a St. Louis resident, it can be hard to take a step back and examine our city, but these are the steps required to create real change. In such a polarized city and world, the thing St. Louisans need most is unity and to be rid of all of the stigmas around us, and one of the easiest ways I see this being accomplished is by ceasing to ask this ridiculous question.