What I’ve learned about privilege
Privilege is a term I’ve always been weary of. While the word itself has a positive definition, the exact Google definition being; a special right, advantage, or immunity granted or available only to a particular person or group of people, it’s hardly ever really used in that way these days is it? In fact, I often observe it being used in a negative and almost demeaning manner more often than not. Recently however, I’ve been opened up to a new way to approach to the word and the idea of privilege itself, because there’s really nothing that can be done to add or remove it anyways. That approach is essentially accepting your level or form of privilege and using it as such to create open spaces for people who may not share the same kind.
It could be pure coincidence, but it could also just be a classic case of the universe bringing things together full circle. A blog post by Sindelókë titled, “Of Dogs and Lizards: A Parable of Privilege” really hit things home for me. The piece chronicles a story of a lizard and a dog who just happens to have a lot of privilege. Their story highlights exactly what privilege is and why it’s more complicated than the excuses that people commonly give it in society. People, being those who have it. What resonated with me was the final point that Sindelókë offered to tie the story together. “Every single one of us has some kind of privilege over somebody. What matters is whether we’re aware of it, and what we choose to do with it, and that we not use it to dismiss the valid and real concerns of the people who don’t share our particular brand.” This one idea not only takes away the guilt of having privilege, but adds a kind of responsibility to those carrying its weight.
Growing up I was always made aware of the privilege I had. I was born into an upper middle class, white, multi-religion family. Did I mention that I’m straight? Or that I don’t have siblings? Aside from my female gender, (which is nothing to discredit in terms of privilege) many people would argue that it doesn’t get much more privileged than that. I would argue that my happiness hasn’t been based off of any of those aspects of my life. In fact, I often begged my parents for siblings when I was younger. I dreamed of having darker skin and hair that curled on its own. Nonetheless, I was reminded of what I had through my youth and into my early twenties where I am now. I’ve counted my blessings and thanked the stars, not for the privileges that I’ve grown up with, but for the opportunities (the ones that I’ve been observant enough to notice) that have come from them. I say this because I know that I go day-by-day often unaware of small opportunities that I receive due to my privileges. Maybe more importantly, I probably don’t pick up on challenges that I don’t have to face on a daily basis because of my privileges.
Sindelókë said, “Nevertheless, just because you personally can’t feel that hurt, doesn’t mean it’s not real. All it means is you have privilege.” While I’ve never been pulled over, I certainly cannot say that I’ve never sped in front of a police officer either. Sometimes I wonder if the results would be different had I been dealt a different deck of cards. I’ve never felt the need to defend myself because of the color of my skin. Or felt uncomfortable in a religious setting because of my sexual preference. This could be different in another country where both my gender and my color would stand out like a sore thumb. While I do know the weight of sexual prejudice, I’ve always felt empowered and strong in its face, possibly because of the privileges that come from the color of my skin or my sexual preferences. Whatever it may be, I can honestly say that I’ve lived unaware of many of the feelings that so many people around the world have to feel every day because of the way that others treat them.
The other week however, I attended a panel at Loyola University Chicago called, LGBTQI Faces of Faith. As a straight, non religious person attending with the intentions of writing a news article, I never expected the experience to be so eye-opening for me. The panel was made up of four guest speakers, all queer and all either holding high positions in their chosen religious community or practicing and educating others on such. Overall, the rest of the audience also identified with those alliances. Much of what was said at the panel paralleled Sindelókë. Mainly, Sindelókë’s idea that it really doesn’t matter what level of privilege you have, it doesn’t matter how you grew up or what you choose to do with your life in the future. What is most important is how you use whatever privilege you have. A word tossed around frequently during the panel was “space.” As in, people with a lot of privilege might never enter a space that feels uncomfortable or unsafe like that which someone without said privilege may have to live and breath in. Even more, someone with that privilege might not even know that that space is there. Or that by their actions and words, they’re actually creating a closed space for those around them.
Yes, having privilege can and does open opportunities in life but if it goes unrecognized in the first place then it can’t really serve a greater good or purpose. It’s important that first, people with it recognize that a privilege is there as well as being aware of what good can come from it and being aware of those who may not have as much of it or any at all. But second, what I’ve come to find both through Sindelókë’s piece and the panel at Loyola is that if you do have a privilege, be it one or many, it is your greater duty as a human being to help create “open spaces” for those around you, rather than simply remaining in your own space or worse, creating closed spaces.
As Sindelókë stated,
“If you’re straight and a queer person says “do not title your book ‘Beautiful Cocksucker,’ that’s stupid and offensive,’ listen and believe him. If you’re white and a black person says “really, now, we’re all getting a little tired of that What These People Need Is A Honky Trope, please write a better movie,’listen and believe her. If you’re a male and a woman says, “This maquette is a perfect example of why women don’t read comics,” listen and believe her.”
I believe that a lot of the problems we have today come from a lack of communication and care in our communication with each other. For people who are privileged, they may not always even know that what is happening to them and around them is directly related to the privilege that they have. They often don’t realize that what is happening to people around them is because of the privilege that they have. Now, with mediums such as the Internet that blur the lines of people and communication even more because of the lack of transparency through it, there is a lot of room for growth as well as backwards steps. You can be whoever or whatever you want. This provides a platform for those without privilege to put any fear or discomfort that they have away while online. It also however, provides people with the veil they need to say and do what they want under a certain level of anonymity. I think the online world is the perfect place to practice creating “open spaces.”
If everyone took the time to be more observant and aware of what they’re posting and sharing when they’re online, then maybe we could create a more inclusive world overall. When people use websites such as Facebook or chat sites to tear others down, it’s pretty cowardly. It’s the perfect example of the saying that ignorance stems from fear because half of what I see online, I’m sure wouldn’t be said in person. Rather, the offenders take comfort in the hidden veil of their own computers to express themselves in a way that might make others uncomfortable. They’re creating closed spaces.
By taking the privilege that I have and using it to open doors and spaces in person and now, almost more importantly, online, I feel that I’m doing more than just watching the world around me. I’m no longer just shrugging my shoulders sympathetically. I don’t want to remain the dog with all his privilege and a mindset to ignore everything outside of it. If there’s a lesson to be learned the first time someone logs onto a social media account or attends their first college course, I think it’s that of the story, “Of Dogs and Lizards: A Parable of Privilege.”
