White privilege

Self-published blog post, December 7, 2021

Invoking the concept of “white privilege” can very quickly arouse anger and indignation. When many whites hear those words, I get the sense what they are hearing is “White people enjoy cushy prestige and live high on the hog.” I also think they hear “White people are evil and are responsible for all the problems in the country.” So, the guards reflexively go up.

The emotional response is “I didn’t hurt anybody!” “I didn’t own slaves!” “I’m pleasant to the Black guy I work with!” “I’m a good person!”

That all might be true. But that really isn’t the issue. That is not what the concept is trying to address. I hear many white people—and have for fifty years—imply or outright assert that anyone claiming mistreatment needs to grow a thicker skin. Needs to quit complaining. Needs to toughen up. My observation is that people who broadcast these kinds of judgments are the first to cry oppression. “How come they get called African-Americans? No one calls me a German-American!” “They use the n-word all the time!” As if to say “Why can’t I? That’s not fair!” (You would not believe how many times I have heard white men—it’s usually men—say this.) So you want to use the n-word? Why is that exactly? And its use now being frowned upon, is that an injustice? Do we wish to go back to the “good old days” when we could say whatever we want? Is that when America was great?

Power exists. One need only Google Image “US presidents” to see who has run this country for the last 200 years (minus one exception—a president who provoked sheer outrage by wearing a tan suit, remember that?). There is a dominant demographic in the United States. This is not to suggest that each member of that demographic enjoys power and prestige and wealth. Most people work for a living, are quite mindful of the bills every month, and hope to God they have health insurance. Many whites in the United States are hard up against it. They do not live in the lap of luxury like so many members of Congress do. (Why do we only elect millionaires? We could elect blue color workers. But culturally, we think blue-color workers are too dumb and unsophisticated to hold office. Have you taken a good look at Congress lately? If the president was a plumber or an electrician, we might have universal healthcare. And presidents do not need experience or knowledge or expertise. Do we recall President Donald Trump?)

But white privilege does not mean “whites live in the lap of luxury.” It means there is a dominant demographic that collectively enjoys greater latitude—as a cohort—than other groups or cohorts. We have seen many times in the news media white men marching on state capitol buildings armed with assault rifles. How might that have played out had those groups been Black men? Or the storming of the Capitol building in Washington DC on January 6. Those involved were overwhelmingly white. Yes, many (hundreds) were later arrested and sent to prison. But as it was happening? Security personnel handled that situation quite delicately. How delicate might have been the approach if hundreds of Black men stormed a major government building?

I have been white and male for fifty years. I therefore have some experience with being white and male. I have never been tailed by a security guard in a department store. (I was once followed by an undercover grocery-store security guard, white, in his thirties, who had seen me in the store on a hundred occasions—which is why I knew who he was. He followed me into the liquor department, we made eye contact, and I cut him a look like “Is there a problem?” (no, as you have probably surmised, I am not a tough guy), and he promptly turned on his heels and walked away. Now, if I was a twenty-something Latino would that have gone the way it did? Probably not.)

Many Black and Latino students have told me stories of being tailed by security. For them, it’s called “going to the mall.”

I also have zero fear of the police. If I get pulled over, the only thing on my mind—and I mean the only thing—is the cost of the ticket. I know the cop is not going to jerk me around. He’s not going to try and intimidate me. He is definitely not going to pull his gun. He will probably be white and roughly my age. The playing field is level. I look him in the eye. I am not afraid of him, and he knows it. And he is probably wondering how many lawyers or judges does this guy know? (Especially if I’m wearing a sport coat.)

No one is going to pass me over for a promotion or a raise because I’m white or male. I will always get an interview. If I started a business, no one is going to decline to do business with me because I am white and male. No one is going to say lewd things to me. Or sexually try to intimidate me (I’m not suggesting that white men never suffer sexual harassment, but it’s not something I think about.)

And that is the point: the above examples are not part of my day. I do not have to think about them. But the list is nearly endless if you are a woman or Black or Latino—or some combination thereof. Women, Black Americans and Latinos have to have their guards up. Every day. They don’t know how Tuesday is going to go for them. I do not have that problem. I am well positioned in this society. And believe me, I am not rich. Closer to the opposite.

Maybe “white privilege” is the wrong label. Maybe it’s more trouble than it’s worth. People hear it and immediately go on the defensive. When I hear the phrase, I think, “Yeah, the sky is blue.” But I have personally observed many whites react to the phrase. They feel they are under siege. The point is to be more mindful of how others are treated. (Isn’t that always the point?) And for that reason, the label fails. It does not encourage thoughts of the other, it encourages thoughts of the self. This is the wrong way around.

My goal here is not to police the language. My aim is to reposition our focus on the other. To raise the question about what Black Americans and Latinos have suffered in this country. I can do so without becoming or feeling like a villain. Admitting that I am connected to the problem—same for the mistreatment of women—does not cause cancer. It might actually make you feel better. Simply reacting and denying connection is to alienate oneself. To acknowledge the connection is to take responsibility and be a three-dimensional human being. We are, after all, connected. We live in a society. If there exists a malady in said society, we are all involved. You cannot walk this earth and not be involved. Martin Luther King Jr., in his “Letter from Birmingham Jail,” observed that the race problem in America is not the KKK, the problem is white moderates. The people who proclaim “I’m not a racist!” (No one is a racist. What a paradise we must live in.) The people who proudly trumpet “I work with a Black guy!” MLK is correct. It’s not neo-Nazis. There are not enough of them. The problem is us.

I would take the position (if indeed it is a position) that if you were born and raised in a racist society, you are a racist. If you spent the first twenty years of your life in Japan, I’ve got news for you: You’re Japanese. So why should racism be any different? By the time you come into your own mind, by say age twelve or so, you have been marinating in it for over a decade. It is bound to leave a mark.

I for one detest how Black Americans and women are treated in this society. And admitting that I am well positioned in said society and connected to the problem does not make me a self-hating white male. It makes me a fuller, more complete one.