
White privilege. Two words with a huge history. Two words that don’t
get a lot of discussion outside of certain circles. As I suspect is the
case with most white people in America, I wasn’t aware of the concept
growing up. I knew about racial and class discrimination and thought I
was better informed than your average high school kid. It wasn’t until
I headed off to college that I ran into the concept of white privilege.
I knew going to college that I’d be exposed to a fair greater range of
ideas than I’d experience in my decidedly conservative, intolerant,
homogenous high school. It was one of the reasons I picked the college
I did. But what I wasn’t expecting the emotions behind those ideas. I
was in for a wake-up call. My first year dorm was actually a program
house where you were supposed to have applied and illustrated your
commitment to third world issues. I didn’t apply, nor did the mostly
white 20 or so other first years that were placed there by the housing
office since the college had over-enrolled that year. Suddenly, I was
around who didn’t particularly like me, not just personally, but
because of what I represented -- because I was an interloper in their
space, because I was white, because I wasn’t self-aware. I’d never
looked at it from the other side. Never thought about how I might have
something to do with power structures. Never thought about how whites
are considered the norm or how people don’t question our actions or
take them to represent the actions/feelings/deeds of an entire group.
However, someone in my dorm wanted to be sure that we got it. Copies of
Peggy McIntosh’s “White Privilege: Unpacking the invisible knapsack”
appeared in every bathroom stall, in the hallways and in the dorm
kitchen. 26 things was everywhere, dominating thoughts, conversations
and later becoming a running joke. But as part of the larger
experience, it really did change the way I thought about things. I
started examining my expectations and behavior and assumptions. It made
me question. It made me delve into what white people don’t (or don’t
want) to know.
There is a quote by Patricia J. Williams,
columnist and legal scholar, in the promotional material, for the RACE
project, it goes ´How can it be that so many well meaning white people
have never thought about race when so few blacks pass a single day
without being reminded of it?´ I am not usually fond of sweeping one
liners, but this one struck me as odd. If so few white people think
about race, then how come racism is so prevalent? Or is it just well
meaning white people that don’t think about race. I was able to go
through childhood, and up to mid twenties before giving race much
thought. Coming from an island where the inhabitants were 90+ percent
Protestants, and pretty much 100% white, race and racism wasn’t
anything that people gave much thought to. We saw it in film and TV
material from here (US), and deducted that black people seemed to be
doing fine. Then I moved here. The first place I lived was a quiet
little street with one big white house lording over the rest of the
more modest ones. I had been there for less than a week when I saw a
middle age black woman get out of the house and get into the drivers
seat of a rather big American automobile. After she started the car up,
she left it and went back into the house. A few minutes later she
appeared again with a little, old, white woman practically under one
arm. She assisted the old woman into the back seat and drove off. ….´we
had our own Driving Miss Daisy´