Am I Privileged

Am I privileged?

The events over the last few weeks have left me asking myself if I am racist. What does racism even mean? I looked it up and found two definitions:  1) prejudice, discrimination, or antagonism directed against a person or people on the basis of their membership of a particular racial or ethnic group, typically one that is a minority or marginalized; and 2) the belief that different races possess distinct characteristics, abilities, or qualities, especially so as to distinguish them as inferior or superior to one another.

I don’t think that I consider myself privileged or better than others based on the color of my skin. But, am I more fortunate that I was raised in a home that had married parents who had good jobs? Of course! Am I fortunate that they could provide food and shelter for us, while there are others who worry where their next meal will come from? You bet!  Am I fortunate that they disciplined us and didn’t give us  everything that we asked for? Yes! 

My dad and mom were both raised in poverty. My mom was raised on a farm that didn’t have running water until after she graduated high school around 1960! My dad had a mom who was deathly sick and he cared for and cooked for her at the age of 8. He scrounged the water banks near his hometown of Dunlap looking for any type of metal he could sell for money, which I believe is what gave him his nickname of “Brass”.  They were both very, very fortunate to get jobs at the railroad, which allowed them to buy a nicer home and car and to provide for my brothers and I.  But, it didn’t give us an endless supply of money. It didn’t afford any of us a college education. If we wanted that education, we were going to have to pay for it. Back when I graduated high school in 1986, I was more interested in getting married than getting a college degree, despite having graduated at the top of my small class and loving the aspect of learning.  After marrying it took a lot of years for my husband and I to reach the economic status where we’d be if we had earned a college degree, but that was not something we could afford at the time, so we’ve used hard work and perseverance.  Are we “privileged”?  I wouldn’t say that, but I would say blessed.  And I don’t take it for granted.

I grew up in a small town with very little diversity. I still live in that town and the diversity has grown some, but still not very much.  But, I believe it is this lack of diversity that has me wondering what racism even is. We had one African American student in our high school and I never thought of him as any different. Sure, he had darker skin than I did, but I didn’t look at him and worry that he was going to steal my belongings or provoke violence. I, personally, just considered him another high school student.

I always say “if you didn’t know how old you are, how old do you think you’d be?”.  I think it’s the same with race -- if we didn’t have labels for our race, what would we call ourselves? What’s the purpose of that label anyway? Maybe we need to remove the labels from our census and our databases? I get that there are cultural reasons that this may be necessary, but why do we say “I’m White, I’m African American,, I”m Asian, I’m Native American, I’m Pacific Islander?”  I have a nephew that has an African American father. Do I look at him any different?  Heck no! Do I love his gorgeous curly hair? Absolutely!! Do I recognize that genetically he may have different health problems than my England-German-Sweden-Ireland heritage? Sure! Do I now worry more about him because of how I am seeing the rest of the world treat people of his color? Definitely! 

I married a man who has partial Native American heritage and during summer travel gets targeted more for “random” searches than me, but we have never claimed racism over that. He also did not grow up privileged. His dad died when he was 9 and he had 5 other siblings, all 18 and under. His mom didn’t graduate high school and her primary “job” was raising the kids while his dad did construction work. He then lost his legs due to diabetes, so they had a rough and impoverished life. But, he did learn what hard work is, and after we were married, he and I both continued to work hard and pave new paths.

When my kids were searching for scholarships before going off to college, there was an endless list for those of a different race than caucasian.  It was at that time that I wished I would have researched my husband’s Indian heritage deeper to gain the advantage of those scholarships that could have been available to them. But, we didn’t really talk about race and heritage -- we were who we were -- Christian Americans. My husband and I felt bad that we weren’t able to save for their college, but we had just enough through those years to pay our bills -- of which I am grateful.  Were we frustrated because they didn’t have scholarships for “white kids whose parents made just enough money to not be able to get financial assistance”? For sure!  Could we have pushed the Native American heritage earlier in their life? Yes, but honestly, we didn’t think about it because we didn’t talk about our race and nationality. We were who we were. At any rate,  my kids had great grades and talent, but not enough to get much scholarship money to help for their education. They are now faced with almost insurmountable student loan debt. But, they’ve earned those degrees through hard work and perseverance, and are working their tails off to pay down those loans.  

All of this is to say that I feel like the more we talk about racism, the more it forces us to focus on those labels. I’m not saying that there aren't issues that need to be addressed. Bad things have happened to African Americans; but bad things also happened to Native Americans in the past too. Bad things happen daily to people of any color. Injustice will always be a factor, but all of us can take it upon ourselves to push forward, work hard and persevere in the face of whatever comes our way, just like my Mom, Dad and husband have done. 

Above all else, we can love each other and see each other for who we are regardless of the color of the skin that covers us.