Sometimes I think I’ve been crippled by white privilege. This is not to say I view it as a disability worthy of a defense in court like affluenza. I simply mean that my advantages in life have perhaps made it more difficult for me to cope with adversity and failure. I don’t know what real strength is because I’ve never really had to survive anything. I’ve never tasted true accomplishment because I’ve never had to fight for anything as if my life depended on it. Maybe I’m unfamiliar with genuine gratitude because I’ve never truly suffered.
I’ve had so many conversations with my friends about whether or not we should be allowed to call our “problems” actual problems. In my head I sometimes have to ask myself if what I’m stressing about is a real problem or a white person problem. A friend has pointed out to me, on several occasions, that all I really need is a healthy dose of perspective. If we were more aware of the very real struggles millions of people of color are dealing with daily would we complain as much? Do we really have anything at all to complain about in our cushy, middle class lives?
It’s easy to be apathetic when you’re able to get through a day without being reminded how unfair life is. When your life isn’t directly impacted by injustice on a daily basis it’s easy to ignore what you don’t need to see. That’s a privilege.The way I’m simply able to navigate through my life from day to day is just that: a privilege. Most of us forget and the fact that we need to be reminded is exactly part of the problem. I contribute to the epidemic by staying quiet, by being complacent. People don’t change until they’re forced. When your very existence doesn’t require moving towards action it’s easier to say working for change can wait until another day. There’s no pressure, no sense of urgency. That’s one of the biggest obstacles in motivating white people to change, to give up some of their privilege and use our voices for good: if we do, we lose. And what exactly do we have to gain?
Creating a more equitable world requires sacrifice; it means giving up some of the privileges we’ve become so accustomed to. Recognizing the problem isn’t very hard when you look for it. It’s doing something about it that’s the hard part. Inequity is all around us. Knowledge is there for the taking. But real change is hard to come by and even harder to consistently live by. Actions speak louder than words but words sound so pretty. Good intentions are noble but bold actions are more honest. And ultimately, good intentions just pave the way for misguided actions. Meaning well isn’t enough. You have to do well too.
White people are too sensitive. This is something that has become all too apparent in our racially charged society. We can’t have real conversations about race or inequality because all too often they end up being about hurting white people’s feelings. Talking about institutional racism or individual white people as racist automatically becomes an attack, like you’re accusing whoever you’re talking to as being racist him or herself. I have to admit that I am guilty of jumping to my own defense in such conversations with the go to comebacks like “but I’m not racist” and “well, I don’t even see color.” I have since realized that such rhetoric is not only futile but it’s also just not true. We don’t have to be colorblind to have an honest conversation about race. We just have to be willing to admit that there are no innocents here. Even if you’re not overtly saying or doing anything racist, staying silent is a form of passive consent. Complacent is the new racist. I’ve spent so much of my life plagued by white guilt and it’s been a largely internal experience. If I took one of my social work professor’s advice and “got over my white guilt so I could do something with it” and other people did the same what might we actually be able to accomplish together?
Navigating the world today in a somewhat socially responsible way starts with having a little perspective. And a whole lot of humility and gratitude.
In social work school I thought a lot about my positionality and the best role for me to have in a movement for change. For a long time I think I naively saw myself as being this visionary leader--the voice of a movement. Once I started my graduate program though, I realized that as a privileged white woman who’s never truly been oppressed maybe the front lines aren’t the best place for me, or the most appropriate. By being another well-intentioned white person in a position of power in the nonprofit world maybe I would just subtly be perpetuating the same cycles of oppression I recognize need to change. I would be a part of the status quo, another cog in the white guilt machine we call philanthropy.
What I now understand is that real movements for change need to be lead by oppressed populations that are most affected by what they’re fighting against. They’re the ones who know what they need. So, perhaps a more appropriate role for me is that of a white ally--every movement needs them after all. And maybe the best way for me to be an ally is by pushing other white people like me to give a shit. If we all looked beyond ourselves and cared just a little bit more imagine what we could be able to achieve! Just some food for thought...
