I witnessed an interesting conversation on Facebook the other day. Heated political conversations are usually fun to watch, but this one had me fuming. I won't bore you with the details of how the conversation came about, but the part that especially struck me was when a (needless to say white) man vehemently denied the existence of white privilege. Words thrown around to describe the idea of white privilege included "racist," "bullshit," and "hippie-liberal elitist" nonsense. Pretty easy for a white guy to say.
Aside from the fact that one would have to be completely boneheaded to deny that white privilege exists, the mere reality that a white man can deny its existence is, in itself, a product of white privilege. This is not simply an academic construction. While white people are debating the existence of white privilege on Facebook (and while this white guy is writing about it on Daily Kos), people of color are painfully aware of its existence, and have been long before Peggy McIntosh penned "White Privilege: Unpacking the Invisible Knapsack." If you're unfamiliar with this eye-opening (eye-opening if you've had a life experience similar to mine, that is) article, here are just a few of the ways in which we white people enjoy privilege people of color do not:
I can go shopping alone most of the time, pretty well assured that I will not be followed or harassed.
When I am told about our national heritage or about "civilization," I am shown that people of my color made it what it is.
I can be sure that my children will be given curricular materials that testify to the existence of their race.
I can go into a music shop and count on finding the music of my race represented, into a supermarket and find the staple foods which fit with my cultural traditions, into a hairdresser's shop and find someone who can cut my hair.
Whether I use checks, credit cards or cash, I can count on my skin color not to work against the appearance of financial reliability.
I do not have to educate my children to be aware of systemic racism for their own daily physical protection.
I am never asked to speak for all the people of my racial group.
If a traffic cop pulls me over or if the IRS audits my tax return, I can be sure I haven't been singled out because of my race.
I can worry about racism without being seen as self-interested or self-seeking.
I can be sure that if I need legal or medical help, my race will not work against me.
I have no difficulty finding neighborhoods where people approve of our household.
I had to read McIntosh's article during my senior year in college. It was very much a "duh" moment for me. It's almost shameful to say that this article opened my eyes so much. Any white person who denies that these very, very basic privileges exist for whites in this country is either willfully ignorant or blatantly racist. McIntosh wrote this article in the 1980s. In the year 2012, we may have a black President, but it's so disheartening to read McIntosh's article and realize that every single goddamn privilege listed (there are fifty, certainly only the tip of the proverbial "white privilege" iceberg) still exists.
I grew up in very, very white rural western Pennsylvania. Throughout elementary, middle, and high school, I knew one black person. People like me don't often have eye-opening experiences when it comes to racism and white privilege. But when we do, it's profound. Follow me below the fold for my up-close encounters with white privilege.
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My friends and contacts became much more diverse when I left my rural county and moved to the nearest large city (Erie, Pennsylvania) for college. My college experience opened my eyes to a number of issues I'd never considered as a WASP country boy. I witnessed the (often subtle, often not) prejudice against my Muslim friends. I witnessed anti-Semitism. And I witnessed racism, way too often. But two particular incidents really drove home the idea of "white privilege," which up until then was simply an academic construct to me. But shit soon became real.
In the last two years of my undergraduate career, one of my best friends was African-American. We did everything together. Often, if a mutual friend saw either of us without the other, they'd ask where the other was. We were truly inseparable. So it was only natural that I would want to take her to my county fair back home over the summer.
In retrospect, I should have been well aware of what kind of an experience she was going to have in my nearly all-white, backwoods county. Simply being able not to think about this indicates a startling level of white privilege. But it never entered my mind that the people in my rural county would be anything less than hospitable. I never stopped to consider how an African-American woman with an afro would be viewed by my former friends and neighbors. Race never entered into the equation.
And that's how we ended up at the Warren County Fair. I was having a great time. But I noticed after a while that my friend obviously wasn't. She was smiling and trying to make it seem as if she was having a good time, and she repeatedly said she was having fun, but we were very close, and I knew something was wrong.
It wasn't until later that it dawned on me (or, rather, hit me over the head) what was bothering my friend. She told me about the stares. She told me about the hostile looks. She told me about the facial expressions that said, "You're not welcome here."
Needless to say, I felt awful. In trying to have a good time with my friend, I'd instead exposed her to an ugly, racist environment. How could I not have considered that beforehand? How could I not have seen it?
White privilege, that's how. As a white guy who easily passes as straight, I can fit in pretty much anywhere. I don't have to stop and think about how hostile an environment is going to be before I go there. I don't have to be aware of the stares and glares of strangers, because nobody hates me, and I have no reason to be concerned. I felt perfectly comfortable at the Warren County Fair. Nothing overtly racist was said, so I was blissfully ignorant of the seething racism permeating the atmosphere. My friend didn't have the privilege of ignoring any of this. To her, this was life.
The second experience that drove home the existence of my privilege as a white male was with that same friend. A mutual friend of ours lost his father to cancer, and we traveled to rural central Pennsylvania for the funeral. It was an emotionally exhausting couple of days, but what I wasn't expecting was a lesson in white privilege.
The night before the funeral, we made a trip to The Bon-Ton for a pair of shoes. If you're unfamiliar with The Bon-Ton, it's a fairly upscale store, probably comparable to Macy's. Suffice it to say that the clientele (and employees) can be somewhat snooty. We weren't worried about that. It was late, we were tired, and we just wanted to pick up the shoes and leave.
The shoes my friend picked out were very nice, and somewhat pricey. We headed to the only open cash register, which was staffed by an older white woman.
The experience was strange (for me) from the beginning. I noticed that she eyed my friend up from head to toe with a very hostile expression on her face. Then she took the box of shoes and said, "And how are you going to pay for these?" It's a pretty common question for cashiers to ask, and it might not raise any red flags to you, but you would have had to hear the cashier ask the question. It was asked in an extremely condescending tone that might as well have asked, "So are you going to use your welfare check or a stolen credit card for these?" The racism inherent in the cashier's question was deafening.
When my friend presented her card, the cashier asked for ID. She then very carefully examined the credit card and the ID, looking up repeatedly at my friend.
When the cashier verified my friend's identity, she then pulled the shoes out of the box. She very carefully and very obnoxiously removed the paper from each shoe, reached her hand all the way into the shoe, and felt around for several moments.
It was unreal. I looked at my friend with an expression that said, "What the fuck?" She looked back at me with an unsurprised look that said, "What? This happens all the time."
The cashier's behavior was beyond the pale. But it was only the tip of the iceberg when it came to the racism my friend had dealt with all of her life. My surprise was very much a product of white privilege. As a white male, I'd never in my life been treated that way by a cashier. And then I was suddenly thrown into a situation that my friend had undoubtedly experienced many times over. It has always been my privilege to purchase items without being suspected of using a stolen credit card or trying to shoplift. That one moment showed me, in a very up close and personal way, that not everybody has that privilege.
So it really pisses me off when privileged white males deny the existence of their privilege. I'm not saying that any white person should necessarily feel guilty for the privilege they enjoy. After all, most of us aren't actively seeking to enjoy privileges people of color don't enjoy. But privilege - whether it's white privilege, male privilege, heterosexual privilege, or any other type of privilege - must be acknowledged, and those of us who enjoy this privilege must be aware that not everybody has it so easy. White privilege isn't elite, ivory-tower mumbo-jumbo. This isn't an academic debate. This is real life.
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March 14, 2012
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From Killer of Sacred Cows:
In eXtina's diary about George Lakoff's sobering analysis of the 2012 GOP race, drewfromct points out how important it is that we stop referring to conservatives and wingnuts as "the Right" and start pointing out that they're "the Wrong."
From Mnemosyne:
Getting a head start on the middle of the week, Trix et al. discuss various candidates' electoral prospects.
From Steveningen:
I hope I'm not breaking any rules here, but this comment from BeninSC in brillig's Top Comments diary was very too charming not to submit.
From princesspat:
Graphics and puns for Pi day compliments of bubbanomics, pun master extraordinaire!
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March 13, 2012
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