Privilege Is…

privilegeAnyone who knows me, knows I can’t be on time for anything. And while I am very often late, I am also quite often early. I just seem to lack the ability to time things well. How long it will take me to get dressed, to walk the dog, to travel somewhere.

You’ll often see me rushing into places, probably dropping stuff, and generally looking frazzled. But you’ll also see me standing in front of buildings playing on my phone, walking slowly, pacing and generally behaving like a criminal trying to case the joint.

The other day, as I was sitting on bench in front of someone’s house, killing the fifteen minutes I had until my meeting, it occurred to me that no one ever bothers me while I’m lurking around. No one asks me what I’m doing. No one assumes anything suspicious.

As I sat, a guy out for a jog, three people out walking their dogs, several people walking home from the nearby tram stop passed me. And no one gave me a passing glance. I was in a large city, you could chalk that up to the apathy that comes with living there but I’ve had similar experiences in much more rural places as well.

Being white means your presence not being questioned in places where it legitimately could be. That’s what privilege looks like.
 
 
 
 

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