Privilege Happens
My daughter, a teacher, was telling me about a former student who lives on a farm, has a day job, and takes college classes. Internet is not readily available where the young woman lives. But her college professors expect her to receive and return assignments online. Immersed in their collegiate surroundings, the professors apparently cannot conceive of a person or place without internet access.
This story got us to talking about the ways in which people unwittingly carry privilege. And how privilege can blind people to the plights of others.
While working in public schools, I happened to mention “my mother’s house” to a student from the Marshall Islands. It wasn’t the main topic of conversation, just a small detail. But the young man halted our talk:
“Your mother owns a house?”
In his world, home ownership was unheard of. I, on the other hand, found it so commonplace that I mentioned it as an aside, without regard for how it might change my relationship with my student. A form of privilege.
I hesitated, and decided that for the moment I would not talk about the house that my school teacher husband and I owned, which was significantly bigger than my mother’s.
Early in life I was told to be careful what I wear in public and not to go out at night, lest I give the impression that I’m “asking for it.” Yet men were free to stroll around the clock. I had to take Home Economics so I could learn to make chocolate covered cherries and fold a fitted sheet. I envied the boys their shop class—unavailable to girls. Being born male definitely had its built-in privilege.
But my gender gave me advantages. I could work in a hospital or at any grade level in schools without appearing inappropriate. While working for a national preschool organization, I met a male teacher who was a perfect fit in the preschool classroom. He was kind, gentle, and clearly cared for his young charges. But gossip stormed and he was fired because he held one of his young students on his lap. Female teachers were allowed to hold a child in need of comfort. Males were not.
A white man I know, who was frustrated by difficulties in securing a bank loan, told me he was sure if he’d been born Black or Hispanic the loan would be handed over lickety-split. He wasn’t being ugly. He simply believed this to be true. I, too, am white, but flinched at his perception. I know people of color on their guard wherever they go, knowing skin tone alone can inspire an attack. Not unlike my experience as a woman walking at night—except their plight is not limited by time of day.
Each of us is born into a given set of circumstances, some of which change over time, and some that cannot be altered. Privilege happens. And we necessarily see the rest of the world through our particular layers of circumstance. It’s difficult to remain cognizant of our advantages. And maybe there’s no need to.
But if there’s not, we have no business expecting others to yield some of their advantage—like billionaires paying their fair share in taxes. I, for one, expect they should.
I will try to remain aware of my privileges, and how they can cloud my vision. People will never be truly equal across the board, but if we are to survive, as a species, we need to be able to compromise. This cannot happen in good faith when one party feels entitled because privilege happens.