Privilege? What Privilege?
Exploding the myth. Clearing the smoke.
Privilege - Noun -a special right, advantage, or immunity granted or available only to a particular person or group:
Those in the clutches of white-supremacist thinking and ideology will often say things like:
“What white privilege? I didn’t have any white privilege. I worked hard for everything I got!”
That may be true.
But this is undeniable —
You had the opportunity to do it.
As an American who grew up rural, poor, and enlisted in the army as a way to college, I once believed that statement myself. That I “pulled myself up by my bootstraps.” That everybody could — if they just kept their nose clean, pressed to the grindstone, and stayed out of trouble.
But —
I never worried about running while wearing a hoodie — especially after dark.
I never once worried that I might have a taillight out or might be driving too fancy a car.
I never got called vile, hateful names while playing basketball in high school.
I was never followed through a department store.
I never wanted her to hear that story again about great-grandpa - and how he got his freedom.
I never once worried that I might be lynched for speaking disrespectfully. Yes, sir. No, sir.
I never considered that my name could be a liability when it came to seeking employment.
No one has ever thought I must be a drug dealer.
My parents never had “the talk” with me.
I’ve never been anything more than curious when the police circle my neighborhood.
I’ve never considered that I might need to carry a weapon for my own protection, or for my loved ones.
No politician has ever referred to people who look like me as “not a human, but an animal.”
In an emergency, I would never hesitate, even for a second, to call 911.
I have never worried that my workplace could get raided.
I’ve never worried that I wasn’t carrying my “documents.”
I’ve never seen a newcast or TV show featuring a cast of criminals who looked like me.
I’ve never feared that I might get deported to some far-off country I’ve never even heard of.
I’ve never worried that the cops might come and break my door down with a battering ram, wearing tactical gear, because of an “anonymous tip.”
I’ve never had to take refuge in a church.
I’ve never been told, “Go back where you came from!” Or asked “but where are you REALLY from?”
I’ve never had a stranger touch my hair - with or without asking.
I never worried I might fall in love with the “wrong girl.”
I am privileged.
And the fact that there is anyone in this country who does not share that privilege — just basic human dignity —is something of which we should be ashamed.
If your twice-great-grandfather wasn’t a slave…
If your Great-Grandparents didn’t have friends, family, or neighbors who were lynched or had their houses firebombed…
If your Grandparents weren’t denied jobs, credit, even the right to vote because of the color of their skin…
If your parents weren’t attacked with high-velocity firehoses and vicious German Shepherds because they exercised their constitutional rights to assemble and protest.
If you haven’t had to worry every day that you might be picked up by the police and incarcerated or beaten within an inch of your life on a trumped-up charge…
You have white privilege.
Stop fighting it.
Accept it.
Now the question is…
What will you DO about it?
What will you do WITH it?
💗 A Quiet Gesture That Helps
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to someone else sitting on their own front step,
wondering if love can hold them, too.
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An Ode to Mass Manipulation and Mind Incarceration.
This poem started the day after I heard about some deranged individual deciding he needed to take Eugenics into his own hands and start shooting into a homeless camp.
It is an ode to mass manipulation. How we’ve been conned into doing the dirty work of an Empire that refuses to use that term. In the name of freedom. In the name of liberty.
It’s raw. It’s unpolished. But even in that unfinished state, I could think of nothing that would pair with the words above more perfectly.
We see through the smoke.
The jig is up.
We’re coming through.
A Note for Subscribers
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Smokescreen
‘Cause it’s all been a smokescreen.
A giant fucking smokescreen.
A long con, a shell game,
a three-card Monty.
They’ll tell you Jesus saves
But only for a fee.
It’s all out in the open now,
So why can’t everybody see?
The dice were loaded before you loaded up that AK-47
