Living both sides of white privilege

By Robert De Young, American Family Insurance Digital Insights and Analytics Director

When I was hired four years ago, I remember introducing myself to our executive leadership team. I said, “It’s great working for a company that cares about its community as well as its employees.”

I made this statement based on the feedback of the team that hired me. I later grew to appreciate those words, but it wasn’t until the last few weeks that I truly understood and embraced them.

Experiencing racism …

My mother had 12 siblings. Her father was born in Mexico City and her mother in Chicago. They strongly wanted their kids to integrate into white America. They only taught them English and quickly Americanized their lives, transforming their names to become English-friendly. My mom’s name is Catalina, but to others, she’s Cathy.

She passed down to me an implicit shame in my heritage. As a child, I was taught to be careful around Mexicans. One of my early memories was attending my cousin’s funeral in Chicago, where I was told not to look anyone in the eyes. We were there to pay respects and leave.

Moments like this formed inherent biases saying I shouldn’t trust Mexicans, that they were dangerous. This was a reflection of me — that I couldn’t be trusted and that others saw me as dangerous.

Growing up, I had nicknames like “the Mexican” and “Taco.” This was one of many microaggressions that were meant to hurt me or my family. Though I thought they didn’t affect me, that I let them go, I realize I felt the weight of them every time.

I developed a skill I would later master — compartmentalization. My friends would regularly ask me to do their landscaping or wonder if I was here legally. I laughed it off, putting it in my racist comment compartment.

I’ve faced racism, but I’ve largely been the benefactor of white privilege. My family jestfully referred to us as “Dutchican.” I inherited my father’s Dutch last name, “De Young.” My parents worked hard to pull our family out of poverty and give me and my siblings the education we needed to succeed.

A microaggression is a subtle, negative message — often sent without being aware — that usually devalues someone based on a dimension of diversity. It can be verbal or nonverbal.

My white privilege was just as much a reason for my success. No one mistakes my name for that of a Mexican immigrant or undocumented citizen, unlike my cousins, who would frequently be labeled as such. When people see me, they don’t see a Mexican — they see me as white.

The racism I experience today is indirect. When my wife and I were looking for our first home, our realtor refused to show us a home in a neighborhood we were interested in. We asked her why, to which she responded, “Speakada Spanish?” This served as a comment to reflect that the population was Hispanic. She didn’t know that I was Mexican and that it was offensive. I compartmentalized it and moved on.

I faced many indirect attacks and microaggressions, but I never felt that was in danger when people made racist comments. I have never feared for my life when being pulled over. I never had to think about where I placed my hands as an officer approached. Never have I felt that police officers I met were anything but polite and accommodating. I wonder why.

… And understanding its effect on others

A friend recently attended a Black Lives Matter protest in his neighborhood south of Chicago. Though it started successfully, an intolerant racist soon countered the groups, chanting “White Lives Matter”. Turning to his son, he said, “I think it’s time to get some rope”.

My friend is white with adopted Black children. He told me, “If this is the feeling that the Black community feels on a day-to-day basis, I don’t know how they can survive.” His illusion of safety and cultural acceptance was broken, along with his spirits. The person they encountered lives two blocks from his home, creating a new concern for the safety of his family.

Upon hearing this story, I felt a crack in my compartment. My compartment gave way during a leadership event at American Family. Leaders spent an entire day speaking about racial injustice alongside local law-enforcement leaders. While some companies speak about racism as an HR obligation, it was clear our conversations were intentional and meaningful.

Upon hearing the commentary on microaggressions, my compartment was shattered. I finally understood the experiences I had gone through my whole life and how they affected me. I had empathy for the plight of Black and African Americans.

At that leadership event, I learned how to speak out against racism, how to exercise empathy toward those who experience overt racism every day.

I want to thank American Family Insurance for giving me the opportunity to reflect and take a stance.