Barriers to Equality: Shattering the Silence on White Privilege

The right side of comfort is the wrong side of accountability.

~Written in collaboration with David Baumrind~

“I CAN’T BREATHE.”

George Floyd’s words still echo in my head.

In fact, the day I saw the video of his murder, I walked around with a litany of names running through my head. Names like Trayvon Martin, Ahmad Arbery, Breonna Taylor, Philando Castile, Elijah McClain, and Sandra Bland. I added Christian Cooper to the list, even though he lived to tell his story of weaponized whiteness. When will it end?

There are too many names, and I don’t know them all. I wonder now how many I’ve heard and forgotten — because I could.

I was outraged and heartbroken, but I sat in the safety of my home, on a nice street in a comfortable neighborhood with its friendly neighbors and thought about the choices I have:

How do I make sense of why this is still happening? What do I tell my children about this? How do I transform my discomfort with race issues into something more palatable?

That’s privilege.

“Being white means never having to think about it.” — James Baldwin

We want to make each murder about our shared humanity instead of the majority group of whites murdering POC because they can — it’s too uncomfortable to admit that we benefit from this system of privilege, even as we watch a black man die at the hands of racists. It’s easier to call for everyone to come together in unity than to admit that we cannot be united as long as any of us are targeted and oppressed.

I felt the collective grief, but it did not belong to me. It belongs to George Floyd and all the other victims. It belongs to people of color who cannot conveniently look away and resume their normal lives.

If we can’t admit that white privilege exists and we benefit from it, we cannot be effective in creating change or championing equality.

We pat ourselves on our white backs for doing our part and standing up against racism, but my eyes weren’t opened until a friend — a person of color (POC) — pointed out that I might know what racism was, but I didn’t have a fucking clue about privilege.

I was pissed.

What do you mean I’m privileged? You don’t know what I’ve been through and the challenges I’ve had to overcome. Don’t tell me I don’t know about privilege.

But the truth is, I didn’t.

Because I spent that night in the company of people of my race and didn’t give it a second thought. Because I walked to my car through a dark parking lot without anyone being afraid of me. Because I drove home knowing that if I was pulled over it wouldn’t be because of my race.

I didn’t know a damned thing about privilege.

“I was taught to see racism only in individual acts of meanness, not in invisible systems conferring dominance on my group,” ~Peggy McIntosh, White Privilege: Unpacking the Invisible Knapsack.

Acknowledging white privilege means acknowledging the advantages, opportunities, and power afforded us by virtue of being born white. It isn’t about feeling shame and guilt. It’s about owning the fact that certain doors are open and opportunities available not because we’ve earned them, but because we’re born white — and acknowledging the uncomfortable truth that others have to work much harder to experience the benefits that we take for granted.

We don’t have to apologize for being white — but we can’t make strides against racial privilege until we acknowledge that it exists, and own our part in the system that gives us those advantages at the expense of others. The silence we practice around our advantages serves to protect our privilege from being fully acknowledged and prevents it from ending.

The white picket fence we build between racism and privilege keeps us on the right side of comfort and the wrong side of accountability.

There’s a very simple test to determine if you possess white privilege:

• First, check to see if you are white.
• If you are, you have it.

It’s that simple.

But recognizing that we have privilege isn’t where social justice ends.

Here are a few things we can do to address white privilege:

Avoid getting defensive when privilege is called out. Use it as an opportunity to learn and do better.

Understand the importance of representation. Advocate for equal representation in media, history, politics, and leadership.

Avoid disengagement. Being able to distance ourselves from the discomfort is a key sign of privilege.

Become involved in advocacy and social justice. It helps us unpack our own privilege by using it to help others.

Address personal privilege. We can use our privilege to speak out and call attention to injustice when we see it.

Address the language we use and hear. Call attention to stereotyping, racist comments, and even common words we use that carry a history of oppression. If we know the history, we have no excuse to continue using it.

Educate ourselves, our families, and other white people rather than expecting POC to freely donate their time, expertise, and emotional labor to us.

Support minority-owned businesses in our community. Support the work of POC by taking their classes, buying their books, or paying for their consultation on the issues.

Listen to the experiences of POC for understanding, not to argue — and accept their experiences as valid.

Amplify melanated voices rather than speaking for their experiences.

Move away from a “white savior” mentality by doing the work without expecting recognition or gratitude for it.

Vote for minority leaders and representatives who will champion diversity, inclusion, and social justice. Educating ourselves about gentrification and how minority residents and business owners are treated in our communities is an important part of working toward equality.

Understand what racism looks like — in overt and covert ways — so that we can understand how we may be unconsciously perpetuating it.

It would be easier to walk away, to let George Floyd’s name fade until we no longer remember it and no longer feel the hurt that comes with it. It would require less effort and less pain. It would be easier to let all the names just fade.

But then I ask myself, “Easier for who exactly?”

Welcome to white privilege.

We get the choice. They don’t.

It’s time we do better.

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