A Letter to my two White Sons about Privilege

 

My two white sons,

I love you more than you will ever know or understand. I've been wrestling for the past few days with what I want to say to you following George Floyd's murder. I can't say everything I need to say or want to say right now, so for the time being I want to start by introducing you to two words.

White privilege.

Initially, I was going to explain to you what white privilege is by naming a bunch of benefits you have simply because of the color of your skin.

I was going to tell you that white privilege means you can wear a homemade mask during this coronavirus pandemic without fearing that others will see you with it on and mistake you for a thief.

I was going to tell you that white privilege means that you get to grow up reading books, and children's Bibles, and watching TV shows in which most of the characters (at least the "good" ones) look like you.

I was going to tell you that white privilege means being able to run through your neighborhood without fear of being mistaken for a criminal, or worse, killed.

I was going to tell you that white privilege means that if you are killed, people won't try to justify your death by digging up dirt and pointing out bad things you've done or that they suspect you've done, as though that would make your death less of a tragedy.

I was going to tell you that white privilege means that if you do something bad, people will provide excuses for you: you must have had mental health issues, you were a troubled young man. You will never be called a thug or a terrorist. You're white, and no one would ever dare call a white person such awful names.

I was going to tell you that white privilege means you could track down and kill a black person and roam free for 2 1/2 months before being arrested for it. When/If you were eventually arrested, there would even be some people who look like you who would remind everyone that you are "innocent until proven guilty," even if you didn't allow your victim that same courtesy.

I was going to tell you that white privilege means you will almost certainly never know what it is like to be tried by a jury where only one (or even none) of the jurors looks like you or shares your lived experience.

I was going to tell you that white privilege means you can arm yourself and enter government buildings without being arrested, much less physically harmed (can you imagine what would happen if a person of color did that?).

I was going to tell you that white privilege means you can go ahead and reach for your license and registration as soon as you get pulled over rather than leaving your hands on the wheel and waiting until someone gives you permission to move.

I was going to tell you that white privilege means that when you walk into a room, many people will assume you are credible or even in charge simply because of how you look. You will never be mistaken for the janitor or maid.

I was going to tell you that white privilege means you will very likely be paid more than your peers of darker skin tones for the same work and are more likely to "earn" promotions.

I was going to tell you that white privilege means you can interview for jobs without wondering whether you've just been invited to help meet a diversity quota.

I was going to tell you that white privilege means that you can get more upset about a black man kneeling in the grass to protest police brutality against people of color than about a white man kneeling on a black man's neck and suffocating him to death.

I was going to tell you that white privilege means that you can call certain people of color "rapists" and "animals" and be applauded for it. And then be elected President (imagine the reaction if a black man in the same position called white people those same names... or tried to make sure poor people had access to health insurance).

I was going to tell you that white privilege means you can call the police if a birdwatcher's skin color makes you feel threatened... and that if you ever become a birdwatcher, chances are no one will ever call the police to say they feel threatened by you.

I was going to say that white privilege means that you can say things like "All lives matter," and "We're all just one race," and "We're all the same on the inside" and actually believe it, even as acts of violence, and microaggressions, and systemic injustices make very clear that black and brown lives simply do not yet matter, that we are not indeed all one race, and that we don't all carry the same pain and experience on the inside.

But those aren't the examples of white privilege that are most on my mind right now. The example of white privilege that I can't stop thinking about right now is this:

When I first heard the news that someone had been suffocated by a police officer kneeling on his neck, when I first heard a runner had been gunned down by two white men, when I first heard that an unarmed person had been shot and killed while running away from a police officer, when I first heard that someone had been mistaken for a criminal in their own home, when I first heard that a person had been the victim of a sham of a 911 call, my first reaction wasn't, "Here we go again," although I did think that soon after.

It wasn't, "How tragic and sad," although I thought that a second or two later, too.

It wasn't, "What can I do?" although I've spent a lot of time thinking, and reading, and asking that question as well.

My first thought was, "I know it wasn't one of my sons. Because those things don't happen to people who look like us."

And that is white privilege.