I grew up in a town that now has a population of 57,000 people. According to the most recent data provided by the 2010 Census, of that 57,000, 50,000 people are white. I went to a high-school that was nearly all white. Most of the students of color in my school were of Indian decent. Latino or Black students largely attended the other high school. Suffice to say, my experience growing up was highly monolithic.
People of color that were my friends were those I played baseball with. Luckily enough, I played ball in one of the few areas of the city that had a large number of people of color. I had a baseball coach that was black. Looking back upon those times, and why I didn’t live near many people of color, caused within me a stirring of sorts. But, the sense of privilege did not stop there.
In theater and on the debate team I had friends that, privately, would let people know they were gay. Yet the social atmosphere, both in the High School and in the city, was not such that coming out could be accepted. From the church to the school, and into the family, being gay was frowned upon. Being straight was the “norm,” and deviating from that was not in one’s best interests.
Of course, growing up male dominance reigned. That old system of patriarchy, which is nothing more than grown-up boys running the place, was the dominant system. People knew this, and called it the “old boys club.” There can be no better saying, because that’s exactly what patriarchy is: old boys. I looked forward to leaving the city and entering college if, for nothing more, than having my worldview changed and finding support in looking at the world differently.
Beyond a shadow of a doubt, as a white, straight, male (WSM) I am the most privileged person in our societal structure. But, that doesn’t mean I’m well off, or any better. In fact, because of that privilege I grew up blind to systems that had long oppressed and subjugated people. I grew up unaware of how small, simple things perpetuate systems of privilege.
I’m not sure what the exact moment was that I began to understand these systems. I’m not sure what made the “light” go off. Whatever it was, it shook me to the core. Over time I have found that our common humanity has suffered from privileging the few, and that my greater human possibilities have been damaged because of it. There is no doubt that learning about privilege, and about what it means to be a WSM in our society is part of my rehabilitation.
Abusive rhetoric, the push to ban Sharia Law, the push to ban Gay Marriage all signify something that has been stirring within us for a long time. It is simple: the privilege of WSM is a meaningless, heartless existence that examines nothing, is aware of nothing, and ignores the whole of humanity. In place of living there are positions and offices created to give a false sense of achievement. Instead of helping and taking responsibility, WSM privilege has perpetuated a culture of silence.
I hope you don’t mind my sharing all this with you, whoever “you” might be. But, I challenge all, WSM or not, to look at the systems around you, and then ask questions. It’s not a journey of blame, but a journey to live a deeper life that is aware and intentional. A shallow existence our humanity currently lives because we have, for so long, settled for a meager existence.
And privilege is not something you can throw off. It is there in the society to some degree whether you like or not. Certainly you can change the way people treat you to some extent with tattoos and piercing, but that is a change you choose to make while people who are not privileged usually have no choice since they can’t stup being white or gay or female or whatever.