How I Recognized My White Privilege
I grew up in the projects, the hood, the ghetto, whatever you want to call it. I called it my home. we were poor and my parents struggled with drug addiction. My mother was white, my father was black. He adopted me and him and his family accepted and loved me as their own. I never questioned our color or the differences between our cultures because there weren’t any that I could see. I have seen many, many things happen to the people that I love and care about just because of their skin color. I never truly understood it until I realized what racism was and I learned the history of our ancestors.
I was always bullied when we first moved into the projects. I was literally the only white girl besides one other girl who lived on the opposite end. I would constantly be bullied, picked on and beat up. I would run home crying and never fought back. My father would tell me that I needed to fight back and stop being a baby otherwise these girls would never stop picking on me. I still never fought back. I was always too afraid and I didn’t know how to fight at the time.
One day, I was home alone bored and I was going through my fathers VHS tapes looking for something to watch. I stumbled upon a movie called “Black Panther” and I was intrigued and curious as to what it was about. It said that it was based off of a true story. I popped it in the VCR and pressed play. What followed after was hours of tears, sadness, frustration and self reflection.
I watched strong black men that looked like my dad, cry as they got hosed and beaten by police officers who looked like me and my mom. I saw beautiful black women who looked like my aunts, march into restaurants and cafe’s in an attempt to protest against racism. I witnessed black and brown people who looked like my cousins be beaten, hosed, spit on, verbally attacked and murdered simply because they were marching in peaceful protests fighting for equal rights. The tears flowed from my eyes as I hugged tightly onto a pillow. my anxiety grew stronger by the minute and although I felt full of sadness, shame and guilt, I couldn’t stop watching as I kept hitting rewind over and over again. It honestly felt like a bad dream.
I was interrupted by the sound of my parents walking though the downstairs door. I quickly removed the tape, dried my eyes and got myself together as if nothing had ever happened. For me to understand this at 9 years old was not possible. So many questions. Why didn’t my parents tell me about this? Why are they even together? How could my dad possibly love me and my mother after what our ancestors did to his? Was this the reason that all of the girls in my neighborhood were picking on me? Did I deserve to be beaten and was I simply paying the price for what my ancestors had done to theirs? In my young mind, I justified the kids behavior as a form of payback that I had coming to me and I certainly had no business fighting them back. It stayed that way for years.
Obviously I grew up to realize that they were just lost kids like myself and misdirecting their energy and anger towards me and that it had nothing to do with something so deep. But at the time, it was the only thing that made sense to me. I began to develop a self hatred for myself. i hated my skin that I was in and was ashamed to be a kin of such monsters! I also started to hate all other people with white skin too because I looked at them as a racist. I just didn’t understand. I was too young and nobody had ever explained any of it to me.
As time went by, I became friends with the same neighborhood kids who bullied and teased me. Some of them had moved away too so I was making friends with the newer kids. More white kids started to move into the neighborhood too. We would always hang out and just kick it with each other. just kids being kids. I recall one night that we were chillin and the police pulled up on us, flashed his lights in our faces, got out his car and came up to us. he asked us what we were doing hanging out so late? We responded with “we are just talking” and he tells us that we need to go inside. He then proceeds to search and pat down my 2 friends who are black while me and my other white friend just stood there waiting for him to do the same to us. He never did. Instead, he walked off, got back into his car and drove away. I didn’t understand fully why but it was at that moment that I realized that white privilege very much exists and that the same racist type of police from the Black Panther movie, are still walking these streets today. Racism never ended and neither did police brutality.
I remember one night some friends and I were driving home from a house party. My girl who was driving was completely sober. She had nothing to drink and didn’t smoke. She was the designated driver cause she was the “good one” . The rest of us were all messed up and had been drinking and smoking weed. We ended up getting pulled over. The cop gives us all a breathalyzer test and my friend who was driving came up completely clean but these police officers arrested her anyways. Me and my other two friends, one white and one black were all taken into custody too. When we got to the police station, me and the white friend weren’t even booked! They literally made us call our parents to come pick us up and I remember I had to call my cousin cause my parents had no car or phone. The cops let us go and they booked and kept my other 2 friends who were black.
One night me and some work associates were at a gathering at a co workers house for her birthday. we were on private property that she owned minding our business. Music was going, dancing, good food, good company, no trouble. one of the neighbors called the police complaining about us being loud. The cops came and told us to turn the music off! Not turn it down, or try to keep it down but they told us to turn it completely off! I don’t remember exactly what was said between my co worker and the cop but she was basically nicely and calmly trying to explain to the officer that it was only 9:30 pm and that we weren’t being too loud. It ended up turning into a big argument that ended in 5 officers throwing my co workers husband and his brother to the ground, arresting them and booking them all over a call over a noise complaint.
How about when I was going to the mall with my boyfriend at the time and his friend and we get pulled over. I was driving but the cop had my boyfriend and his friend who were both black step out of the car and searched them with no cause whatsoever. Then there was that time when I literally watched 6 police officers literally beat a black man in my neighborhood half to death just because he was talking to himself! He had intellectual disabilities and struggled with his mental health.
I have seen my black family, friends and loved ones be brutally harassed, beaten and arrested my entire life while myself and other people of white skin, get off easy. Not only that but I have also witnessed all of the other unfair injustices such as lack of resources, education and health care. I realized at a very young age that I was white privileged not by choice but certainly by birth. I used to hate myself for it until I started to educate myself more and then I recognized that it isn’t my fault what those monsters did. I don’t agree with what they did and I certainly would never defend them on any level. However, although it isn’t my fault, it is a fact that being born into white skin means that I fully benefit from a system designed to keep whites superior to other races. I can walk down down the street and not have to worry about whether or not I’m going to make it home alive. I can even break the law comfortably knowing that the worst that will happen to me is I will do time. I don’t have to fear for my life or experience racism. I don’t worry if people are judging me based on the color of my skin.
What does this mean? It means that I hold the power to be an Ally to all of my black brothers, sisters, family, friends and loved ones. It means that I get to speak up when I see something wrong and that I get to use my white privilege to fight against the system that has suppressed my loved ones for decades. It means that I can use my voice to tell my story and my knowledge to create new systems that will benefit all of us who are good. I don’t get offended when a black person says “Black Lives Matter” because they do matter! and it’s about time that we show that! I don’t take it personal when my black loved ones say that systemic racism exists and that white supremacy is real! It is! and anyone who feels personally attacked by any of these comments or responds with ridiculous things like ‘all Lives matter” or “I wasn’t alive during the civil war, it’s not my fault” you are the problem. the fact that you feel that you have to defend yourself and that you take it personal means that you are a racist. it’s never too late to change.
Think about it for a minute. Think back to how your parents, your family thought about and spoke about black people. did you hear it growing up? The judgements, the stares, the lack of respect and compassion? If you answered yes to any of these questions, that means that you have subconsciously learned to be a racist. We can’t change what we aren’t aware of so we first must become aware that there is a major issue. Only then can we do our part and take responsibility. Nobody is telling you to feel bad about yourself, not love yourself, it’s your fault or that you have to pretend to be someone that your not. All we are asking for is some consideration, awareness, empathy, respect and allies. We truly are stronger together and if you aren’t with us, your against us whether it’s intentional or not. If your aware of it and just refuse to acknowledge and accept it, I have no respect for you. As for myself, I will always use my platform to spread love, positivity, respect and support to our African American people and I will continue to use my white privilege to stand strong and fight the systemic racism!
