White Privilege

The region just completed a two and half day Leadership Summit on Racism --- coordinated by New Detroit. The focus was on lifting up clear examples of success by companies, communities and individuals who have bridged the issue of racism.

One of the topics often referred to or discussed in the work groups was the role of something not often discussed in the mainstream --- White Privilege. Some while back, I wrote an essay about an experience that deepened my understanding of White Privilege. One of my commitments coming out of the summit was to put 'voice' on the issues discussed at the Summit. Hence, I share with you just one perspective, my own, on the issue of White Privilege.

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WHITE PRIVILEGE by Michael J. Brennan

“You’re not going to believe this,” I said to her, “but being black is the greatest burden I’ve had to bear.”

“You can’t mean that,” she said.

“No question about it. Race has always been my biggest burden. Having to live as a minority in America. Even now(with AIDS) it continues to feel like an extra weight tied around me.”

Arthur Ashe -- Days of Grace

There were fifteen of us -- a multi-racial group of men and women. Together we met once a week through the Institute for Healing Racism to learn from one another -- to understand how the disease of racism has impacted our daily lives. New perspectives, shared experiences, and intent listening allowed us to grasp the philosophy of “walk a mile in my shoes.” In other words, we began to talk and heal.

On one Thursday morning, Pete and Darlene, our facilitators, said the topic of the day was “white privilege.” You could feel a nervous energy in the air. In his gentle way, Pete directed us to line up against the wall with our eyes looking towards the far side of the room. He explained the assignment; “We are going to ask you about twenty questions. For each question you answer “yes” to, take one step forward”. Simple enough I thought.

If I should need to move, I can be pretty sure of renting or purchasing housing in an area that I can afford and in which I would want to live.

I pondered the question and found myself answering, “yes”. One-step forward.

I can be pretty sure that my neighbors in such a location will be neutral or pleasant to me?

Never really thought about it, but “yes”. Step two forward.

I can go shopping alone most of the time, pretty well assured that I will not be followed or harassed?

I have begun to sense the point of this exercise. I took another step. But I saw many of my classmates not moving forward. Questions three, four and five ensued.

I can do well in a challenging situation without being called a credit to my race?

We are no longer looking straight ahead. As we reflected on the questions, our eyes now gaze towards the floor. I wanted Pete or Darlene to ask a question we all could answer “yes” to. Painfully, I knew it wasn’t going to get better. Questions seven, eight and nine followed. I took more steps.

I can easily buy posters, post cards, picture books, greeting cards, toy dolls, and children’s magazines featuring people of my race?

I think, “Ouch. Why am I taking these steps and she isn’t?” Questions eleven, twelve, and thirteen were asked.

I am never asked to speak for all the people of my racial group?

I found myself wanting to shorten my steps. I didn’t want to reach the other side of the room. I could feel the distance that was being created. I could sense many of my classmates looking at my back as I moved closer to the wall. This seemed crazy. The questions kept coming.

If a traffic cop pulls me over, or if the IRS audits my tax return, I can be sure I haven’t been singled out?

The question reminded me of how every week my classmates would describe avoiding certain communities for fear of, or actually being, pulled over by the police. At times without real cause -- a harsh reality for some.

I can be sure that my children will be given curricular materials that testify to the existence of their race?

As the questions continue, so does my forward movement to the far side of the room. I approached the wall with my white classmates. By this time I wanted to go home.

I can go into a music shop and count on finding the music of my race represented, into a supermarket and find the staple foods that fit with my cultural traditions, into a hairdresser’s shop and find someone who can deal with my hair.

I took a sneak peek back. I see how my Cuban-American, Asian-American and Hispanic-American classmates have progressed some. But not far. One more yes and I wouldn’t have any more room to go. The tips of my shoes touched the wall. I didn’t want to turn around and face my classmates standing in the distance. Yet, more questions kept coming.

I can choose public accommodations without fearing that people of my race cannot get in or will be mistreated in the place I have chosen.

I say to myself, ‘can’t I quickly just pull others up here.’ As I turned around and look at some of my motionless classmates, I wanted to say I understand this isn’t just an incident for you, but a daily experience.

I looked into the eyes of a highly respected African-American woman in our community--she had taken only one step forward. One single step. I wanted a magic wand to erase the gap. Eliminate the pain. But instead, I saw the reality. I walk with privilege every day of my life. And quite simply, it is not a privilege given to all.

Privilege is a peculiar gift. With it comes not only the benefits, but also the personal responsibilities. As I reflect on how other individuals influenced my life on the issue of racism, I think that maybe in some way I can touch others too. Spouse. Children. Minister. Neighbors. Co-workers. Then maybe they can touch a few more. And so the dominoes go. As Margaret Mead once said, “Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world; indeed, it’s the only thing that ever has.”

As I type these words, I reflect upon the many lessons learned by all that participated. The experience helped deepen my understanding of the world we all live, work and play in. And I remind myself -- “much has been given -- much is expected.” Thus, change begins with me.