Category: race

Is White Privilege A Real Thing?

My head and heart are spinning. 

These last couple weeks, I’ve watched people leveling up their discussions about racism, and as painful as it is to face ugly realities, there’s also hope in this surge of willingness to engage!

Then I click the scroll button a couple times on my social media, and feel my heart sink again when I find people still pushing back against the basic idea that white privilege even exists. People who are still offended by talk of white privilege. People who still don’t get it.

Those are the people I’m writing for today. My friends, I hear you say all the time that you’re not racist, that you see equal value in all people with all skin colors, that your intentions are good. I’m choosing to believe you! I choose to believe you do have good intentions and good hearts, so I’m asking you to channel them right now, and dig into this term that you find so aversive. Understanding white privilege is so foundational to understanding racism. To be blunt, you need this to follow and participate in the larger, more complex conversations happening around racism in our country. 

Just a selfie where I look teacher-ish, since I feel like I’m using my friendly teacher voice… 🙂

Let’s start with something you already know exists: inequality.

(To keep things simple, I’m going to talk about race in terms of Black and White. Obviously that’s a gross oversimplification! But let’s stick with just two races for now.)

You already know that we see all sorts of unequal statistics between Black and White Americans. I don’t need to quote the stats to you; you’ve heard them. You know that White Americans have collected exponentially more wealth than Black Americans. You know that Black kids get in more trouble at school than White kids. You know that White Americans have more leadership positions than Black Americans. You know that our prisons are full of more Black Americans than White Americans.

We could look at all sorts of facets of American life, and we’d keep finding statistics that paint the same picture. In all these different measures of success, we find White Americans thriving far more than Black Americans. Even if you think there are challenges associated with having white skin, you must realize that on the whole, White Americans are objectively doing better in society than Black Americans.

This isn’t news to you; I’m sure of it. You know that racial inequality exists in the United States. You might not realize just how severe that inequality is, but I’m confident you know it exists.

So the question is: why does racial inequality exist in the United States?**

I’m going to take that broad question, and narrow it down for you: does racial inequality exist because of internal or external forces?

Let’s start with option one: internal forces. Maybe it all stems from individual choices, and White Americans are thriving, because we just make better choices. Maybe White Americans work harder, care more about our families, value education more highly, make better money decisions, follow the laws, and are just succeeding overall, because we’re hardwired for success. Maybe we were born genetically superior. Maybe it’s Black Americans’ inability to make good choices like White Americans that keeps them from attaining the same levels of success.

You know that’s all disgustingly racist, right? While there are people in the world with those beliefs, I can’t imagine anyone in my own life who would agree with them. Again, friends, I’m choosing to believe in your good hearts! I’m sure you don’t think that White Americans are inherently better at making life choices than Black Americans.

So option two: external forces. Maybe there are factors in our environment that make success more attainable for White Americans than Black Americans. Maybe our history, maybe our laws, maybe our traditions, maybe our biases… But maybe something in the world around us is giving White Americans a boost and holding Black Americans back. Maybe as White Americans who are no better, smarter, or stronger than Black Americans, the deck is somehow stacked in our favor.

That isn’t so hard to swallow, is it? I mean, at the very least, you know that America has some ugly and undeniable racism in its past at massive scales. I’ve never met a person who would deny that. It isn’t a huge leap–is it?–to then assume that history has some lingering effects. 

Doesn’t your good heart tell you that it makes more sense to blame racial inequality on external than internal factors? 

That’s white privilege!

That’s all it is!

Recognizing white privilege is basically just acknowledging that something in our environment creates more successful outcomes for more White Americans than Black Americans.

Having white privilege doesn’t mean that my life is easy! (My life is actually really hard in a lot of ways.) Just like everyone else, I’m a complex equation with more privilege in some areas, and less privilege in others. I’ve made some good choices and some bad ones. I’ve had some good luck and some bad luck. My white privilege doesn’t guarantee me an easy or successful life. There are too many other factors for that. But race is one of the factors. 

It’s not my fault that I was born with white privilege. I didn’t create this society, and it’s not my fault that it privileges White Americans over Black Americans. It’s not your fault either. If it makes you feel guilty to think about white privilege, that’s fine and natural, but it’s not the point. I’ve heard so many white people claim, “You just want me to feel guilty!” Frankly, nobody really cares what you feel. Feel guilty, or don’t, that’s for you to work through. I definitely experience some white guilt at times, but that’s not useful or helpful.

You know those people who make a really big show about telling the world they know they have white privilege? You think those people are annoying, right? Well, guess what–they are! I agree with you. It’s an obnoxious behavior.

We don’t talk about white privilege to make people feel ashamed. And we don’t talk about white privilege to virtue signal our enlightenment.

We should talk about white privilege because it’s our responsibility to do something about it.

Our good hearts don’t want to live in a world where white privilege exists, right? We all want to live in a world of equal opportunity, yes? It’s wildly unfair that a person’s race has any power to influence their life. You know it’s unfair. That’s why the term “white privilege” was so troubling to you in the first place. The thought of injustice makes you uncomfortable, and it should! But not thinking or talking about it won’t make it go away. We have to accept the discomfort and figure out what role we can play in dismantling white privilege. We need to spread the privilege around, so White Americans no longer have more than our share.

If your next question is, So what can I do? How do I help dismantle white privilege?, then I appreciate your good intentions, and I’m going to ask you to set those questions aside, just for a while. 

If I’ve done my job in this piece, then I may have persuaded you that white privilege exists. I’ve hopefully opened your mind to the idea that external factors in our environment influence American lives differently depending on race. But I haven’t explained what those factors are! I haven’t described what that privilege looks like!

And I’m not going to. This is where I’m going to invite you to do your own homework. I’m super willing to have follow-up conversations, but please don’t ask me to teach you Racism 101. And absolutely do not ask your Black friend to teach you Racism 101!! This little chat we’ve had here in this blog post? This isn’t 101. This is more like the prerequisite seminar, preparing you for 101.

Put in some work now, and find out what white privilege looks like. Find out what “systemic racism” is referring to. Find out what “implicit bias” is all about, where it comes from, how it manifests. I guarantee you that any education you received in school about America’s history with racism and segregation was extremely incomplete, so find out more about our history. Find out how it influences our present.

There are so many resources out there to help you learn more about racism in the United States. Google is your friend, and will lead you to whatever you feel you have the capacity to digest right now. Maybe you want to read a book. Join a discussion group. Take a class. Watch some TED Talks. Read a couple articles. Listen to some podcasts. Watch a documentary. There’s an overwhelming amount of good stuff to dig into! Don’t worry about doing it all. Just pick one thing to feed your curiosity, and then another thing. Stretch your comfort zone a little bit at a time.

I’m not an expert on all things racial, and I don’t pretend to have all the answers. I’m also not a beginner anymore. I grew up in a “colorblind” delusion, and then entered a profession that demanded better of me. I’ve put a lot of time and effort into learning more about racism and antiracism. It’s been hard work, and there have been some mental blocks I’ve had to get past. There still are. I have immense appreciation and respect for the kind souls that help me learn better and do better!

If you’re willing to seek out some resources and learning on your own, I’m willing to talk about whatever comes up for you. It helps to have people you can process this learning with! You probably have other people in your life who are working on their racial awareness journey, and would be willing to talk stuff through with you. If your “Black friend” is someone that you’re actually close with, someone that you regularly have reciprocal “deep talk” with, then they might be willing to discuss with you. Don’t ask them stuff you can Google. Don’t pester them. But if you’re putting in the work on your end, they might be willing to talk and add some layers to your understanding. You’re asking for a very generous gift of vulnerability, though, so they aren’t obligated to engage. If the truth is that your “Black friend” is just a friendly acquaintance, not someone you’re close to? Then please don’t bother them. 

Eventually, you will pick up the “So what can I do?” question again. The more you learn about racism, the more you’ll see it. That’s the hard news. The good news is you’ll also see more opportunities to combat it in your own way, in your own circle of influence, with your own skills.

* * *

**It’s easy to deflect here into ideas like “It’s not about race; it’s about economics. Poor people tend to struggle more…” To that, I have two responses: 1) When studies examine people in the same economic bracket, racial differences still exist. 2) Ask yourself why those economic differences exist between the races. It’s fundamentally the same question.

Another Opportunity To Check Your Racism

I’m not a big fan of our biggest local taxi service. Some bad experiences have left me with a sour taste and general distrust. But you know what I hate more than the taxi company? I hate that I can’t complain about the cab service, and just be talking about the cab service.

This is what happens, probably nine times out of ten, when I tell a story about a cab driver who was dishonest, or unsafe, or whatever the complaint is this time. The listener immediately asks some variation on: “Was he… from another country?” “Did he speak much English?” “Was he [insert race or ethnicity here]?” Often the question is preceded with the classic, “I’m not racist, but…”

The answer to the question doesn’t even matter. My problem is with the question itself. Why is anyone asking it? Why are so many people asking it? What kind of assumptions and biases are they trying to validate, and why?

When I tell stories about people being kind, thoughtful, witty, fun, or smart, nobody ever responds by asking about the person’s racial background. Never, at least as far as I can remember. If there are any assumptions made about that person’s ethnicity, they go unspoken.

And when I tell a story about bad behavior, I don’t remember anyone ever asking, “So, was he white?” “Was he European American?” “Let me guess, he was a native English speaker?”

IT’S NOT OK WITH ME. A story about bad behavior shouldn’t make your mind default to dark skin!

I resent being put in the position of answering such an offensive question. It’s easier when I can say the person was a white American with no trace of a different accent. In that case, everyone accepts that it was an individual acting poorly, and nobody gets stereotyped. But when the person is from any other racial or cultural background, there’s a knowing “hmm,” and I feel like I become complicit in the racism by answering the question. No matter what words I may say about an individual’s actions not reflecting the group, I still have this sense that I just reinforced another person’s stereotypes, and helped racism score a point. I never wanted to be part of something so ugly; I just wanted to vent about a bad taxi experience!

It gives me some empathy for an experience that people with privilege don’t often understand very well–having to represent an entire community. Maybe my fellow Mormon friends can understand this one. Once people find out I’m Mormon, they forever view my actions through that lens. They want to know how my words, actions, thoughts, politics, relationships, emotions, morals, etc. relate to my religious identity. They tell me all kinds of stories about “the Mormon neighbor” they used to have. All of that is completely fine with me, by the way. But it shows me how much power one person has to affect another person’s entire schema of Mormonism, for better or worse.

It’s a different experience for a person of color, but there are parallels. And that’s what comes to mind every time somebody asks if my negative experience was with a person from a different race. I feel this pressure, related to what a person of color must feel all the time, to represent an entire community. And I feel like I let that community down when my story doesn’t reflect well.

It’s not ok.

Let me tell you what I think of the wall…

I’ve wanted to write about this for a long time. I need to write about it now.

First, I’m going to tell you a story. Then, I’m going to tell you another story. And then, I’m going to tell you why I’m so full of anger, hurt, sadness… that I can’t even talk much about it.

*  *  *  *  *

First, a story. Many of my friends have heard it before, because it’s one of my favorites.

My first year teaching, our student council was made up entirely of white students. Election season came, and once again, only white students were running–with one exception. A brave Latina girl from our Beginner ESL class decided to run for president. She was still new to the English language and new to the country, but she committed to getting up in front of the school and giving a campaign speech. Just her decision to try made me proud!

Then I watched her designing posters, putting them up around the school, and carefully preparing her speech. I assisted a little with the English, but the ideas were all her own. Her process and effort made me prouder still.

Election day came, and this student got up in front of the school, beginning her speech by introducing herself in Spanish. Still in Spanish, she asked for everyone who could understand her to please raise their hand. About a third of the hands in the room shot up, and the looks on so many faces were just priceless. They were all looking around, confused and surprised, as if noticing for the first time how many Spanish-speaking students go to our school.

The rest of her speech was in English, and it was some of the most beautiful English I’ve ever heard. She talked about the importance of every student voice being heard–no matter who you are, where you come from, or what language you speak, your voice matters. She very honestly expressed that she loves our school, but feels some voices don’t get listened to. She promised to do her best to listen and represent all students. It was beautiful. I’d heard her practice it multiple times, but I still teared up listening to her delivery. So proud!!

Maybe my favorite part was listening to the students’ conversations as they filed out of the cafeteria. It was mostly summed up by the one (Latino) kid I overheard saying, “I didn’t know we could do that…”

My brave student changed things that day. She didn’t win the election (although they found another space on student council for her), but it didn’t matter. She let a huge portion of our student body know that this is also their school, and they belong, and their voices matter. She gave them permission to walk taller and take ownership of their school and the spaces they occupy.

*  *  *  *  *

Another story.

My second year of teaching. I’d already gotten used to hearing little comments from my students that communicated their feeling of “not belonging” in the United States. It didn’t matter that many of them had lived in the US for most, if not all, of their lives. They spoke of themselves as “others,” not as Americans. They spoke like kids without a country–lost, hurt, jaded, afraid.

But it was 2008, and Obama won the election. We didn’t talk much about it, because politics at school is so sticky. Then it was January 20, 2009, and TVs were set up around the school for anyone who wanted to watch the inauguration before school started. That wasn’t politics; it was history.

We didn’t start class on time that day. We couldn’t tear the kids away. They were glued to the screen, completely riveted. I’m telling you, the light in their eyes changed that day. The comments changed. It was just like the student election the year before, “I didn’t know we could do that…” The kids started speaking with hope in their voices. They talked about the United States as their country too. If a person of color could be president, then who knew what else was possible?

I don’t care what you think of Obama or his politics. His election and inauguration was a powerful moment in our nation’s history. It meant something very real, and very personal, to my kids.

Today, when my students learn that Obama is the only non-white president we’ve ever had, and that we still haven’t had a female president, their jaws drop. We’re raising kids now who can’t fathom a country where only white men get to be in charge. Their perspective is skewed, and I love that it’s skewed! They believe in a world the way it should be.

*  *  *  *  *

America, you broke it. All of it. We’d made so many steps forward, and then you had to go and break it.

I can’t tell you how much it hurts me to be living in a Trump world. It doesn’t even matter that he’s only a presidential candidate at this point, and hopefully will never be more than that. The damage he’s already caused is enormous.

I’m not so naive to think that everything was sunshine and roses pre-Trump. I’m not one of those people who think racism ended the day Obama took office. I’m very aware that it’s been there all along, never went away. But we were making baby steps. And now this.

Once again, my kids are walking around in fear, outsiders in their own country. It isn’t just that Trump says terrible things about them; he’s made it ok for anybody to say terrible things about them. All the time, they’re hearing hate spewed in their direction. They’re hearing that they’re unwelcome here. That they’re what’s wrong with this country. After all the sacrifices their families have made to be here–sacrifices that most of my readers and I will never really be able to understand–to work, learn, and contribute, they’re treated like this.

They’re just kids! America, how dare you treat my kids this way! How dare you keep handing the microphone over to Trump! He may have a loud voice, but we never had to listen. We could have changed the channel a long time ago. But instead, America, you’ve egged him on. You’ve gotten on his bandwagon. You’ve spread the hate, loud and proud. You’ve validated the ignorance and treated the racism as worthy of air time. You’ve defiled democracy by allowing Trump’s name on the ballot, and then you’ve continued voting for him. How could you? How could you do this to my kids? To your kids? Because guess what, America, these are your kids too. And you’re failing them.

The kids are so confused right now. They’re full of hurt, and anger, and fear… And I don’t know how to help them. They don’t understand what’s happening in our country right now, and how could they? It doesn’t make any sense. They have all these feelings, and no idea what to do with them. (Also, I have all these feelings, and no idea what to do with them.)

Much like the adults (who have more developed prefrontal cortexes, calmer hormones, and way fewer excuses!), the kids are getting swept away in the fervor. There are the kids spouting lines they hear from the Trump camp, with very little understanding of the harm they’re causing. And there are the kids fighting back and standing up for themselves and their friends and neighbors. But they’re kids, and they don’t always know how! They have so many thoughts and feelings, but they don’t know how to make sense of them, how to express them, how to be heard. They’re leaping into action, with no thought for where they’re going to land. Some are getting carried away by tidal waves that they can’t even name. The emotion is infectious, and emotions lead to choices and actions that aren’t always thought out…

America, you say you’re going to build a wall, but you already have. You’ve built so many walls this last year; I can’t imagine how much time and work it will take to ever bring them down. You’ve built walls between people. You’ve built walls around people. Inside people. I’ve spent my career working so hard to break through my kids’ emotional walls, to find their soft and vulnerable inner voices, to help them express what’s inside. But now I’m watching those walls go back up. And helping them find the words, the safety, and the forum to express themselves, to share their voice, is harder than ever. Helping them to feel empowered and hopeful, when I’m feeling helpless and despair myself, is so hard. I want to assure them that things are ok, that the adults have this under control, but none of that’s true. It’s not ok, and it’s not under control…

All I can tell the kids is that we need their voices, their thoughtful contributions to society, more than ever.

Building walls is easy. It’s tearing them down that takes real work.