Explaining White Privilege to a Broke White Person
Gina Crosley-Corcoran grew up in the type of poverty Americans like to pretend doesn’t exist, so it was hard for her to believe she had any privilege.
Years ago, some feminist on the internet told me I was “Privileged.”
“THE F*CK!?!?” I said.
I came from the kind of Poor that people don’t want to believe still exists in this country. Have you ever spent a frigid northern Illinois winter without heat or running water? I have. At 12 years old, were you making ramen noodles in a coffee maker with water you fetched from a public bathroom? I was. Have you ever lived in a camper year-round and used a random relative’s apartment as your mailing address? We did. Did you attend so many different elementary schools that you can only remember a quarter of their names? Welcome to my childhood.
So when that feminist told me I had “white privilege,” I told her that my white skin didn’t do shit to prevent me from experiencing poverty. Then, like any good, educated feminist would, she directed me to Peggy McIntosh’s 1988 now-famous piece, “White Privilege: Unpacking the Invisible Knapsack.”
