An honest and open account of white privilege, seen through the eyes of a 40-something white man.
I will never know what it is to have white privilege. I will never know how it feels. I will never know what it means to have it, experience it, live with it, and enjoy the day-to-day of it. I have never felt the emotions of living with it because I have it. To me, it was called “life”.
This is a white, hetero-sexual, affluent male’s perception of white privilege. I am not going to be one of the “I’m not racist because I have black/brown friends” idiots, looking to prove how non-racist and liberal they are by totalling how many BAME mates that they have on their Facebook. The colour of my friends is immaterial to my social groups, my colleagues, acquaintances, old school friends, and my social media. I’m not going to try to start a collection of multi-coloured friends like a Panini sticker album. I look at peoples’ strength of character and fortitude to get to where they are. Now is the time when I have looked at these people, these people where I have become blinkered, and never considered how lucky I have been to live in a society that is so unfair, from birth, based on the colour of my skin. The atrocity in America of George Floyd’s unlawful killing, and the outpouring of emotion from it, from all quarters, has led me to reflect deeply, and consider my 44 years, and how I had this privilege, and friends of mine had a curse. The double-sided coin.
Looking back, I’ve considered what things I could do, rather than I could not. How I could feel comfortable, rather than not. Most importantly, how I could go about my day-to-day life where I did not feel that I had to be better than anyone else apart from to achieve my own life goals, and not just because of the need to be better so I that could be judged as the same, which would then raise the question: how? I will not be silenced about this. I will not be afraid to talk. I will not be ignorant and be someone that will not listen. I will not be insular and scared to teach what I think is right. I will hope that these words are not just something that I type to release some of my frustration and guilt that I have from not experiencing the wrong side of privilege: the cursed side. The side that makes me both lucky and ignorant, which was not my fault. The side that I will strive to teach my daughter in the hope that we can all teach our children, hope that they can be a better than generation than ours, and in turn they do the same to our grandchildren. Straightening the curve and setting the standard of an even playing field.
I believe that white privilege, in my opinion, isn’t felt by white people, myself included, as it is something that has never been considered, until now. it may as well be called ‘the white curse’, as it is felt by members of the BAME community. I’ve never been looked upon as someone that I would need to cross the street to avoid for no reason, even though I’m 6ft 3” and about 18 stone, or as someone to approach to see if I was dealing. I’ve never been racially profiled. I’ve never achieved “A” grade at school, and had people wonder how it had been achieved, or question whether or not I’d cheated. I’ve never been looked at in a shop and had people watch me, “just in case”. I’ve never secured a job, or a promotion, where people have suspected the sole reason for it was to ‘tick a box’.
All of these things that I never had to contend with from the white privilege that I’ve had, though never felt, because it has been the norm. White privilege, even from an early age, can shape a person for the rest of their lives. It’s a leg up, a headstart, and a misconceived preconception that I’m better. It’s an easier way to get a bank loan, or to get signed off work by a GP. Since birth, this privilege has allowed me to get to where I am.
White privilege opens up perception and sets the standard. It set a standard that I never felt, because it just made things easier, but I had nothing to compare it to. I do now. I have a realisation, and what I hope are wider eyes. In terms of how much it has shaped my life, from childhood I have had white privilege, and I am sorry that white privilege meant ‘normal’, that it meant ‘fair, and ‘how it should be’. It’s treating the people the right way, and being born into the right exterior, I was always treated this way. I have never felt the detrimental side. That side that isn’t fair and the side that still judges. I am sorry that I never felt it, so I could, in some way shape or form, understand to a tiny degree how much it hurts anyone else. If we could all feel like that, just once, maybe white privilege will ebb away in time, because it’s not something that will go tomorrow, or next month, or next year.
Five years ago I was taking my new car out for a drive, with two (white) friends, driving at 50mph, in a 50 zone, and approaching a 40. Not speeding, obeying the laws of the land, and aware of the approaching drop in speed regulations. Next to me, a police car pulled up alongside me, bibbed the horn, and mouthed ‘slow down’ to me. Sure, I was irritated, but only to the point where I wanted to ask him if it was his job to drive around and ensure that motorists understood what the numbers inside the red circles meant. Clearly I didn’t. It was this incident that was brought back to my attention this morning, by one of my two friends in the car that day. I asked her to read through what you are reading now, and she actually asked me, “what if we were all black…. would we have been pulled over?”. I hope not, and for the right reasons. I hope that the events of that day were down to a bored police officer, or at worst, a petulant one. This paragraph has been added to what I thought was a finished piece of writing, as it has provided me with one thought…. what if… what if we were black? Would we have been pulled over? What if we were in America and black? What if? This thought really has me thinking…. I’ve never experienced being apprehensive of the police, anywhere. Is this also indicative of my skin colour? An example from five years ago to draw upon now? I don’t know, but….. what if?
