Scared to post this. But here goes nothing.

The day before news of George Floyd’s murder reached me, I was having a conversation online with some people about a woman who had been groped in a grocery store. The woman in question was angry and hurt that the response she got was very unsympathetic. People told her it was funny. He didn’t mean it. He thought it was his wife. He apologized. She should get over it because of what he meant. It occurred to me. No one listened to what she felt. What about her dignity and feelings? Maybe what she wanted was just to be heard. Maybe the point isn’t what he intended. But what SHE experienced. And so, maybe someone will think twice about grabbing ass, thinking it is his wife, and being wrong. When we aren’t laughing about it anymore. When we understand that the person being objectified matters.

But that is how these narratives go. They seem to always cycle back to the dignity, feelings and needs of the… what? In this case the man. His feelings. His intentions. His, his, his, his….

Then George Floyd’s murder news blew up all over the internet. And I see white men and women in my sphere talking about the horror that is the riots. Must stop the riots! One person claimed that losing their livelihood was losing their life. And that first made me sad. Then angry. I pictured my children losing their business. And yes, that would suck. But then I picture them lying face down on the pavement being tortured until they died, calling out my name in fear. That is the same? How can that be the same? How can equity mean that one person’s business is as valuable as another’s very life and some measure of dignity in how it is treated? How can that be?

Black lives matter. Well, so they should. Of course, they should. And for many people, they should in that very nice to have perfect world where it is out of their site, and they don’t have to worry about it. And the narrative still cycles back to. The police. Oh, but there are good cops. How the ACAB posters rankle. What about all those good guys? What about THEM?

Well, what about them? Why is their dignity, needs, wants and feelings more important than the very lives of our brothers and sisters?

Because all our narratives cycle back to the people at the center of privilege. I imagine privilege as like a circle of elements that make it up. Different characteristics that push one to the center of the circle. White. Male. Powerful. Monied. Christian. Heterosexual. Cis-gendered. Typically bodied. Neurotypical. How many more am I not thinking of?

So, what is my privilege? I have always known that I sit near the center of privilege. I am not loaded. But I was raised in a middle-class family. I had access to good schools. I have faced no food or shelter insecurity my whole life. I had access to healthcare. Dental care. I had guidance for learning, finding a job. Building a career. I have one tiny wedge of experience that just maybe might give me a context for understanding the issues for people of color in America.

I am a woman. And like the woman who started my musings, I am very used to people circling all conversations about my experience back to the people who sit closer to the center of privilege. The #metoo movement is an obvious example of this. Considering sexual assault and harassment as a real problem faces a narrative that circles back to … The rapist. The harasser. How is he supposed to know? He was just a dumb kid. But what about false accusations? He was drinking. He was. He is. He, he, he, he. Not all men! Of course, not all men. So What?

I remember sitting in a forum for raising teens at the school when my kids were young teenagers. I sat there and listened as well-meaning Moms (there were no Dads present) talk about how hard it is to get their kids to do their schoolwork and what a distraction the girls are in their tank tops and shorts. It took a bit of mindful breathing to quiet the rage that I felt in that moment. And it took a moment before I decided to speak. Silence is what I know. Here is one more drop of privilege we are adding to these young men’s perspective. You are not responsible for your attention to your work. Girls are to be removed from your thinking space, like other distractions. We don’t have basketballs in the classroom. You might get distracted! So too should the distraction that female humans’ presence be removed so that you might succeed. So, girls should modify their behavior, their experience. To suit these young men. I did not express it like that. Of course not. How could I be heard? But I did share the gist. I don’t remember what I said, exactly. Maybe I said it poorly. But I do remember the reaction I got. Hostility. There were two blank, kind of baffled faces, like this thought had never occurred. But largely hostility.

So why do I bring this experience up? Surely, I seek to coopt the experience of people of color to promote my own narrative. And yes, there is a risk to that. That I will be heard as saying Yah but what about ME and the needs of MY under privileged group? I hope that is not the message I am sharing. And I hope I will be schooled where I have failed to understand.

What I do hope is that I am able to use this teeny bit of experience that sits outside the center of privilege to connect to empathy with people of color. To help frame the shifting of the narrative away from the center of privilege so that I may hear the narrative that comes from the people farther outside the center than I am.

For years, and decades, I have been influenced by the narratives I hear. “I am color blind!” my friends declare. I always felt bad about that. I know I am not color blind and never have been. When my child came out as gay and later trans-gendered, I thought welp I have just joined the rank of mothers who wonder whether their child will be killed today because of what she looks like. No where near as likely where we live as a black person in the city. But I do. I look at women of color and think, what must that be like? I cannot even fathom. I look at black men and think, what must a traffic stop feel like? I cannot fathom. No. I am not and never have been color blind. What about reverse racism? Well, I have quietly thought to myself, afraid to give voice in the face of the cacophony I hear, what even is reverse racism? Not being able to say the N word? That is not equity. That is not equality. To demand what teeny bit of identification that a disenfranchised people keep for themselves. That is just wrong. Well he hates me for being white! So? I have been hated just for speaking my mind. I have been hated for being a woman unwilling to fuck a man. Individuals don’t need much to hate. But there is no reverse racism of any kind in our country. In law. In “law enforcement”. In the workplace. Please don’t speak to me of quotas. If you “lost” a job to “a black” because he is black, then I tell you, you are not all that. And why do you even think it is your job to lose? This is a non-thing. This is not even a drop in the bucket of oppression. I quietly thought to myself and wonder how I have it wrong. And I did. I did have it wrong. I was listening to the wrong people. My “own”. I was not listening to the people who experience it every day of their lives. Who knew? Being color blind was not the goal after all. Well maybe my thinking is not so very wrong that I can’t learn the right of it.

The narrative around police brutality, riots and change has to stop circling back to the dignity, needs and feelings of the privileged. Do I like riots? Of course not. There will be the targets whose insurance carrier will have to pay out damages. So what? Bring it. But there will also be small business owners who suffer. And that does hurt. People just trying to get by caught in the crossfire. People in public housing. The very people who suffer the disenfranchisement, the oppression, having their homes, busses, means taken from them. THAT hurts. I don’t know what the answer is there. But the answer is not to continue hundreds of years of oppression so that in this singular moment in time some individuals are not caught in the crossfire. The answer is not to point at protestors, and say See? Black people are… Black people are what? Violent? Black people are? Tired. Exhausted. Sick of being the victim at every turn. Sick of wondering if going to the grocery store, jogging, sleeping in their bed will get them killed. Sick of being told who and what they are. Sick of being told that they don’t get to share in the human experience until they are perfect examples of their group.

What about the good cops? Here it is. I don’t care. I don’t care about the “good cops”. Their conscience is between themselves and their God or whatever it is that drives their decisions. They are not, should not be, the center of this narrative. Their dignity should not be at the center of the narrative. Their humanity is not at risk here.

So, what is a person of privilege, like me to do? Well, we have a choice. We can do what we have been. We can seek to move ourselves as close as possible to the center of privilege.

Like police officers. I wonder what it is they are doing. I think they are trying to move themselves closer to the center of privilege using power. They seek power. Power over. Power over others. And who is easiest to have power over? The ones who have systematically and cruelly been oppressed for hundreds of years. It’s just easy pickings. The narrative is already neatly provided for them with the crime rates. History be damned. That their arrests and convictions are stacked against them, as are access to economic and social opportunities. But! What about the good cops! Again, I don’t care. They are, at best, ineffective. And I am sorry that their efforts have not been successful. Wouldn’t it have been great if they could have changed things from the inside? But they haven’t. And they can’t. Because the narrative has been what it has been for so long that those who seek the status quo are too many. Too. Powerful. With their tear gas and their cries of law and order.

Poor white men and women can seek to get closer to the center of privilege by following the rules. Follow the rules. Pay your taxes. Work hard. And you will be rewarded. No, you won’t. But they don’t see that. We will lose most of them in this fight. Is that sad? I suppose so. What are they? Collateral damage? I don’t know. I just know that they have the same choices I do.

We have a choice. We privileged. We can choose to change the narrative. To be clear, we can’t change other people’s minds. We Can Not. It is not possible. The only way it may work is through consequences. Even then, we don’t know if that person’s mind will change. They could decide they are still the victim. But it is the only thing that may work. And it will work for future generations. You cannot get away with this anymore. You WILL be prosecuted. You WILL NOT be voted into office. You WILL NOT be allowed to line the pockets of your cash cows. You WILL be fired. You WILL be ostracized from society.

Each one of us can choose not to add to this narrative. Why would we? Things are pretty good for us as they are. First and foremost, I don’t want to live in a world like that. For me, that ship has sailed. I likely won’t see real change in my lifetime. I won’t see a woman sitting as President in the White House. I won’t even see real will to end the culture of objectification and ownership of women’s bodies. I won’t see Black Lives really MATTER. I don’t think I will. I don’t want my children living in that world. They are strong. And they are powerful. Maybe they can make the change in their lifetime. I hope.

But why else change? What is in it for me? I get to maybe, just maybe, not see my country burn. If I act right, if I think right, maybe this injustice can still be remedied. If my country burns, it will be my fault. My fault. Mine and that of all of us of privilege who did not learn the lessons of history. We hear a lot about fault in our privileged narrative. It is not my fault! You hear the white people cry. No, up to this point, you can probably say that the vastness of this horrible history is not your fault. It is not your fault. But it damned well is your responsibility (Will Smith). If we can leave fault aside, care less about who is to blame, and take responsibility for our world today as it exists, we have the power to change. We can change what the circles of privilege looks like. We can remove the power of one narrative over another. We must stop defending ourselves. We must stop explaining why this is not our fault. And accept responsibility. Because fault and responsibility are not the same. Are not even related. And in accepting responsibility, we embrace our power. (Again, thank you Will Smith.)

I leave you with this. Only the most recent post to make me think. (Post no longer the same) https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?fbid=10100197820933801&set=pcb.10100197821677311&type=3&theater Black lives are more important than someone’s racist uncle.

And for my Christian friends, I recall for you For “whatsoever you do to the least of your brothers and sisters, you do unto me,” says the Lord Jesus.

A note on the diagram. I am well aware that there are categories of privilege very notably absent from this diagram. And I ask for your compassion on this. My intention (see what I did there? I claimed my intention as valuable) is not to eliminate you. Reduce you. I am simply not skilled enough to express this in 2 dimensions with a picture that describes all of our experience on the outside the center. I ask, if you want, to draw a different picture. Draw one for yourself to see where you fit in the circle. I would love to see it if you feel you can share.

~2021

Note added Mar 2025

I no longer see this as a venn. The goal is not to move to the center but to the top. If a hierarcy. The higher up the hierarchy you are, the more you "win". Go check out alt-right playbook. Let me know what you tink.