Since I posted “Privilege“, I’ve had a number of discussions with clueless folk about the privilege they do not believe they have or would like to discard because they are tired of being called out on it.
First, I am going to go over some basics (in a list that is not comprehensive):
Congratulations! You have privilege.
White people: You have privilege. You aren’t immediately flagged as potential trouble in stores and airports. You are more likely to get a job than the more melanin-enabled. People don’t assume you will be lazy, or late, or trouble on the streets. You don’t get extra targeted by cops. There is no such thing as Driving While White. You get to wonder why the brown people are upset about racism in movies and tv, because it’s just entertainment.
Men: You have privilege. You don’t worry about being sexually assaulted if you go out alone. You don’t have to automatically wonder if that guy in the elevator with you is a creep. You get paid more than women. Nobody assumes that you don’t know what you are talking about professionally just based on your gender. You don’t have to sue companies for promotions, universities for tenure, newspapers to be allowed to get out of the researcher/secretary pool. You get to wonder why women get so upset when you approach them on the street.
Rich folk: You have privilege, and everybody knows it. You get to wonder how families can possibly live on only $250,000/year.
Straight people: You have privilege. You don’t have to constantly fight for the legitimacy of your intimate relationships. Your right to marry is not up for a vote. Nobody says things like, “I’m not heterophobic, but…”. You don’t have to wonder if your state will let you adopt a kid, or if you will have any parental rights over the kids you are helping to raise. You don’t get bullied, beat up, maimed, or killed for being openly straight. You get to wonder why the queer folk want to deal with the misery and complications of marriage.
Cisgendered people: You have privilege. You haven’t had to go through an extensive (and expensive) medical, psychological, and emotional process just to feel like your body is your own. You haven’t faced bigotry from every single community around you because your outsides don’t match your insides and you need to do something about it. You don’t get bullied, beat up, maimed, or killed for identifying as a gender that does not match the one on your birth certificate. You get to say stupid shit like, “That’s so weird. I would never put myself through that.”
Educated people: You have privilege. You have never had to have somebody read a document to you because you cannot. You have never faced the embarrassment and shame that our culture heaps on the uneducated. You aren’t stuck in jobs that nobody else wants because you never had the opportunity to finish grade school, let alone high school and college. You have never been without a voice. You get to wonder about and mock all the godawful grammar on the internet. (Approximately one in seven people in the US can’t even read this post I am writing.)
Tall people: You have privilege. Just kidding! I know it sucks to be able to reach everything.
Second, I am going to make a point I seem to have to make repeatedly, but never seems to get taken to heart:
The lack of one kind of privilege does not cancel out all other forms of privilege.
Grew up poor as shit, but still straight, white, cisgendered male? Guess what? You still have privilege. Grew up poor, brown, gay, and male? Guess what? You still have privilege. Poor, brown, queer, female with an amazing education? You still have privilege.
I can keep going with the combinations until this looks like an LSAT question, but I won’t, because the LSAT sucks. (I get to make that shitty joke because I get to claim educational privilege.)
Third, I am going to expand on what I discussed in “Privilege”:
It’s just something you have.
No, you didn’t ask for privilege. You aren’t necessarily looking for the special treatment you receive because of it. You may not even be conscious of it. That’s all well and good, but that doesn’t mean you don’t have it.
The thing about privilege is that the benefits are automatic and not always visible to the privileged. Which is another way of saying, you don’t notice you aren’t being discriminated against. Men don’t notice that they aren’t on constant alert against being sexually assaulted on the street. Straight people don’t notice that they aren’t being treated differently when with their partners.
When you get called out on your privilege, nobody is telling you to change it. Nobody is telling you that you are a bad person because of it. Nobody is saying that it’s your fault. What you are being told is, people who do not field specific kinds of discrimination have a very different perspective on the world than people who do. What you are being told is, what is an intellectual exercise for you may not be for somebody else.
What you are being told is, take yourself out of your privileged shoes and put them in somebody else’s (let me guess—they don’t fit. Kinda uncomfortable, right? You’d like to take them right back off, right? Yeah. That’s what people are talking about when they call you out on privilege). This goes back to my initial post. Because ultimately you need to recognize that you have it. You should acknowledge it. And while acknowledging it doesn’t change the fact that you have it, it does go a long way toward helping you understand where people are coming from when they say, “Dude. You realize you just spilled a bunch of cold unpleasant privilege into my lap.”
Don’t be afraid of those uncomfortable shoes. Seek them out. Walk in them for a minute, if you can. Marvel at the blisters and bruises. So that when you put yours back on, you can appreciate how well they fit, and how comfortable they are. That, metaphorically, is what you should be doing when your privilege is pointed out to you.
ETA: Since enough people have the need to make this argument, I feel it ought to be addressed. There seems to be a new “solution” to the use of the word “privilege” that seems to have been created by people who are deeply afraid of the word. I have tried to unpack it in this post, but I guess I can’t stop people just reacting to it instead of seeing that. So let me please state: calling discrimination “human rights violations” instead of using the word “privilege” changes absolutely nothing about the above post. All it does is try to shift focus and say, “I don’t have privilege, these people are simply being wronged.” Not only is the use of “human rights violations” a bit overwrought, it doesn’t work that way. People are being wronged, it’s true. But it is on a systemic level, and thus it is what actually creates privilege. The fact that people are suffering from various kinds of discrimination and lack of safety on a systemic level is the very reason that people who do not suffer—on that same systemic level—experience privilege. Taking the focus off of the privileged for these discussions does nothing to change that, it just makes those who are uncomfortable with it and think people who are using it are calling them bad people feel a little better in the moment. My suggestion is that you stop reacting to the word and start really considering what it means in this context.
Okay, I have been observing an incredibly frustrating pattern in conversations relating to privilege, which is that, in short, people who have privilege loathe being told they have it and will bend over backward to try to invalidate any claim they might have to it, as if being sensitive to various issues, or at least not outright misogynist/racist/antisemitic/homophobic/transphobic/etc. somehow removes any inherent privilege, like fancy stain remover.
People will point to some action they have taken in the past to support the rights of some group of people—be it women, minorities, GLBTQ, the socially awkward, whatever—and say, “But I did this thing. So I’m totally not acting privileged, so you should totally shut up and stop attacking me (because criticism totally = attack).” Worse, I’ve seen people say, “Whatever, I don’t know why you are whining. Get over it.” This response is extremely common in discussions about misogyny in comic books and the video game industry, and pretty much always comes from men. Go figure.
So I am going to boil privilege down for you, and for very easy reference. Because privilege is not something you got on you, like dirt. Privilege is not an accessory you can discard when it seems inconvenient. Privilege is not something you can whittle down with actions, like it’s just below your health bar in a video game.
You need to stop thinking about privilege in terms of attitude (although, that’s part of it), action, inaction. Privilege is, if we condense it down to its most fundamental aspect, the ability to walk away from a given struggle and know that your rights will not be affected in the slightest bit by the outcome of that struggle. Privilege is the ability to throw up your hands and say, “I’m done arguing about this,” or, “this can wait for the next election,” or, “Why are we still discussing this— isn’t this settled/aren’t there more important issues in the world?” It’s the ability to say, “I don’t like the criticism I have gotten over my part in this discussion, so I am leaving the discussion entirely.”
I’m going to repeat the primary point, here, just to be as clear as possible: Privilege is the ability to walk away from a given struggle and know that your rights will not be affected in the slightest bit by the outcome of that struggle.
So, folks: stop being bitches about being called out about your privilege. Recognize it for what it is. Make damn sure you understand what it means—about your approach to the world around you, about the issues you have never had to study and fully understand, about the opportunities you take for granted—and own it.
In honor of National Coming Out Day, and all of the individuals coming out today (and who have already come out, and who aren’t quite ready to come out)—I sincerely hope you lose this game of BINGO:
Click Image For MoBiggification:
Four names, four suicides, one month. ETA: And to bring in October, we have a fifth: Raymond Chase.
We keep thinking that the world is improving for queer folk, and in some ways, it is. The percentage of people who approve of (or at least won’t stand in the way of) gay marriage is growing. Acceptance and the ability to raise non-traditional families in places that are not New York City or San Francisco is growing. Movies about queer people that do not end in the gay character dying from disease or in a fire are increasingly common (good job, Hollywood).
But we can’t take progress for granted. We cannot assume that just because things are getting better for some, that they are getting better for all. Let’s take a look at those names again:
Seth Walsh: 13 years old.
Asher Brown: 13 years old.
Billy Lucas: 15 years old.
Tyler Clementi: 18 years old.
Raymond Chase: 19 years old.
We still live in a world where for some, being perceived as a homosexual is more horrifying than taking one’s own life. Where some of our children think that it is okay to taunt others for being gay (regardless of actual orientation), because being gay is bad. Where some of our children are dying because nobody thought to tell them that it is okay. That being perceived as gay is not the end of the world. That potentially being gay is not the end of the world.
These five young men are not the only teenagers who have taken their own lives over being homosexual or being perceived as homosexual. In fact, it is estimated that 1/3 of teen suicides every year are queer. But these five illustrate something that is very important: we are really, really not doing enough for today’s youth. Queer and otherwise.
And this is not just about finding your neighborhood gay kid, slapping him or her on the shoulder and saying, “hey, you’re okay.” (Although, if that’s all you’ve got, then please do it.) This is about teaching your own children, regardless of their leanings, that bullying is not okay. That being queer (or otherwise different) is okay. That if they see somebody being bullied for being different, the best possible thing they can do is be a friend to that person or quietly find some way to show some support.
We need to be people that these young men and women can trust, that they can come talk to. We need to be people who will not judge, and who will help. We need to be people who can show love and care even when our own belief systems are being challenged. And we need to teach our children to do the same.
Junior high and high school are brutal social arenas. We all forget that when we escape. They are holding pens for people who are at their most socially, hormonally and sexually volatile–and in competition with one another. We either need to give them swords and let them have at it–or teach them tolerance, understanding, and kindness.
Let’s not add any more names to this list.
In my last post, I’m Not Homophobic, But… I mentioned an exchange I had with Mr. I’m
not homophobic. Let’s explore his continued efforts at coming out on top (so to speak):
- By calling me an asshole.
- By calling me ugly.
- By calling me a “fake Clark Kent, Nsync poster on the wall having, gay pride parade going, seed sipping, loose booty hole having, you only living to fight for gay rights advocate, dick in @$$ having, super stupid ass.” [Direct quote.]
Unfortunately for this fellow, who is clearly a friend to all gay people and not at all homophobic, the only thing that offends me in all of this is his lack of appropriate hyphenation. I mean, it’s really fucking egregious. He also has an interesting fixation on ass.
I do think, however, that there are healthier, more communicative ways to announce that you may lack the maturity to discuss such obviously fraught and relevant issues as homophobia. Let’s explore:
- While I may look like an adult, my argument skills ceased developing when I was 5.
- I am actually 5.
“I’m not homophobic, but…”
I have a love-hate relationship with this statement (and all permutations). I love it, because I’m always spoiling for this fight. I hate it, because it’s nearly impossible to get through people’s heads the fact that anything they say after “I’m not homophobic, but” will mean those first three words are seriously stretching the truth.
Today I got into it with a guy who said, I’m not homophobic. I just wonder what I do to give gay guys the idea that they should approach me. [Paraphrasing, his grammar and sentence structure were about as pleasing as his logic.]
I replied, But you don’t wonder about that when women approach you? If you think that gay men are approaching you because you are “doing something,” then you are inherently judging gays differently.
He said, There’s a HUGE difference between being approached by a woman and a man. I’m interested in women. I do what I need to do to have them approach me. I do it for them… not for men. [Direct quote.]
Heh. Right. So bear with me here: if you make yourself attractive, but you are only attracted to women, then you should only be attractive to women? ZOMG—does that mean you are sending out accidental gay signals? Why else would Teh Gayz be hitting on you? Dude, whatever you are doing, you better cut that shit out. Or some guy might think that you are making yourself attractive just for him. And that would be gay.
Let’s look at some more truthful options for how to really finish “I’m not homophobic but…”:
- I’m backward and pig-ignorant.
- gays freak me out.
- only as long as they stay on that side of the street.
- if one touched me I’d pull a knife.
- that’s because I’m too busy being racist.