A Life of Privilege

I have lived a life of privilege because of my light skin color, my socioeconomic upbringing, my access to socialized networks predisposed to benefit my skin color. I have never been disenfranchised or singled out. The thing I must do, that white America must do, is to confront their own prejudices that stem from this privilege. I say I’m not racist, but that exposes my own ignorance of what that means. How can I say “I get it” if I’ve never had to live a life of systemic disenfranchisement. How could I possible say “you’re preaching to the choir” if I, my parents and my ancestors never experienced societal oppression. The truth is I don’t get it, I have never walked in the shoes of black America and I can only guess at what or how I would react. This country was founded with this racial divide the moment white European and Colonial powers stripped the African interior for slave labor. Even calling it a divide assumes each side exists on equal footing, which it most certainly does not, it is a racial subjugation that has been continually ongoing for 400 years. How could I possibly “get it”.

My own prejudices are quickly exposed looking at my bookshelf and artistic inspirations and it’s predominately white western and far eastern authors and artists. It completely ignores the rich cultural language of black American authors and artists. Where is Langston Hughes, Maya Angelou, Gwendolyn Brooks, Alice Walker, Jacob Lawrence, Shelton Johnson. The last authors absence is particularly disgusting, he’s a park ranger in Yosemite National Park, the place I hold more dear than any other geography in this world. I cannot tell you with any detail the incredible history of the Buffalo Soldiers who, among other feats, were the first protectors of our national parks. Another exposure of my prejudices toward white cultural and artistic achievements. I let the Black History month of February come and go without actively participating, investigating or seeking out new stories.

During this week of protests, my family, spread across three cities, have been having discussions on these very things and what as a predominately white family we can do to address our own prejudices and support the black community. My own commitment moving forward is to work on shifting my cultural and artistic bias and actively seek out inspiration from the rich black heritage this country drips with; poets and painters, writers and musicians, quilters and historians. This is not to garner praise, nor direct the conversation to what one white man is doing, it is an earnest attempt to unlearn my own discriminatory bias. I know it’s not enough, but it’s an acknowledgment and a start and if I can’t even address where my own prejudices live, how can I possibly talk with my young daughter about her own white privilege and her responsibly to seek out those things that are different from her.