What is white privilege? Or what is it not? Why do black lives matter?
I can go anywhere and get into anywhere. I don’t have to worry about what I say or the way I say it. I don’t have to worry about how I dress. I can do what I want without consequences. I don’t have to worry about being stopped because I’m driving and doing nothing wrong. I don’t have to worry about the police getting called because I look suspicious going for a walk in my neighborhood. I don’t have to prove to strangers that I can be anywhere. Here’s some comparisons.
It’s going in places and blending in with a crowd, where no one will even remember you when you go back, but if you need help, one word and they’ll make trip after trip to the dressing rooms with more clothes. It’s not going out and having everyone stare at you or follow you through the store and then saying I don’t think we have anything that you might want to buy.
It’s taking your white 3-year-old daughter into the store and being escorted back to the employees restroom. It’s not shopping at that store, asking to let your 18-month-old, black son to use the restroom and being told we don’t have one.
It’s taking your family in to buy a home and getting the paperwork taken care of in short order. It’s not taking your 2 black sons in with you to look for a home, being told that the houses are out of our price range and then being helped to buy a more expensive home out in the country.
It’s getting the labor and the zipper done for nothing when it took 90 minutes and labor is $90 an hour, billed at 15 minute intervals. It’s not being billed for an hour when the work took 10 minutes.
It’s going to the movie where it’s really cold and you ask if they will turn the a/c warmer and they change the temp in all of the theater rooms. It’s not taking your adult, black son to a movie in Georgia and have the people behind you keep saying things like races shouldn’t mix. Why are you with that ‘n’?
It’s getting a free dessert or getting your tab picked up without asking because your water wasn’t filled up quickly enough. It’s not going to Denny’s in Georgia after taking your son to that movie and leaving because, though you were there first, and the black family next, and the white family that came in last get waited on before the black family and you aren’t waited on at all. It’s reporting to corporate and a manager being fired because they hear your white voice.
It’s having a beautiful landscaped yard that no one bothers. It’s not waking up to the remains of a burned cross in your yard.
It’s going out to your car after a banquet, getting in, and having a peaceful ride home. It’s not getting in, driving off, having two tires blow and you barely keep the car under control to keep from landing in a dark, deserted river bottom at 2 in the morning.
It’s being able to stand up to a police officer and tell them that they are wrong and not worry about retribution.
Those are my experiences as a white woman. All of them. There is only one difference in the way I was treated. And that was because I had my black family with me. I was the same person. It was nothing that I did. I’m a person of color. It just so happens that my color is a lot paler than others.
Everything that I do is a white privilege. And here is the thing. We’re all the same people. We’re just dressed in different skins.
Why do black lives matter? You shouldn’t even have to ask. I cry because you do. Black lives matter for the same reason that my life matters. It’s the same for anyone. We’re all part of the human race. We just come in different colors.
*for ‘Mack’
Homestead Hippie 