Have I benefited from white privilege?

This issue comes up a lot in the internet circles I frequent. A lot of people argue that white privilege isn't even real, because they haven't experienced it. Recently, someone asked how I, specifically, had benefited from white privilege lately.

Well, here are two things: intersectionality is a BEAST of a thing to understand, but it's important to. In sum, having privilege in one area doesn't mean that everything goes right for you all the time, or even that you can't be without privilege in other areas. I feel like the people I hear this from most often are poor white people. "How can I be privileged," they ask, "when we were on food stamps?"

The answer is, you didn't have class privilege, but you did have white privilege, because a person of color with the exact same economic circumstances as you might have had things just a little harder. Maybe they got caught by the police doing the same kinds of things you did and didn't get caught for. Maybe your neighborhood had better schools, so you got a better education.

I saw a great video once that asked people to take a step forward if they had never had to fear holding hands with their romantic partner in public. A step back if they had to take out loans for college. A step forward if they were usually not the only person of their race in the room. A step back if they had a physical disability. A step forward if school holidays aligned with those of their religious faith.

The idea is that you can be privileged in some ways and not in others.

But the other thing is that the reason people are so skeptical of white privilege (if they have it) is that it is beautifully, perfectly invisible to us. If a cop pulls me over for having an expired registration, reminds me to put the sticker on, and then lets me go on my merry way, he is about 100% certain NOT to say, "and you can chalk this up to your whiteness. Have a nice day."

How many jobs did I get over the equally qualified Latisha, who interviewed also? I'll never know! How many of those times I did something stupid did I fail to get in serious trouble because someone unconsciously thought of me as a "good kid" instead of a thug? It's a mystery! When I was first driving and got pulled over for going MORE than ten mph over the speed limit and also passing someone on the right, and THEN didn't know where to pull over, so pulled over on the left shoulder (I know, I know!!), and the officer decided to say on the ticket that I'd been going LESS than ten mph over the limit, was it because of my alabaster brow? No fucking clue. I didn't know, I didn't ask, and I'll probably never know.

And it would be easy as hell to go through life imagining that every good thing that ever happened to me, I deserved, and every bad thing that ever happened to someone else, they deserved. And those employers and cops? They probably weren't consciously favoring me, and wouldn't admit to racial bias. In fact, most people who want to argue against white privilege will name a bad thing that happened to them and say it's proof that there's no such thing. Shit, most people can look at 44 white Presidents and 1 Black one and say "See? Doesn't exist."

That's one of the reasons that it's so insidious -- it's absolutely undetectable to those who don't want to detect it.

Ultimately, saying that I believe (I am SURE) that I have benefited from white privilege isn't a comment on my success, my hard work, or my luck. It's a comment on society. And of course privilege or the lack thereof isn't a 100% determiner of where you'll end up. But it can put the wind at your back, or it can fill your knapsack with rocks.

So to answer the question of when is the last time I benefited from white privilege: probably last night, when my white ass went out after dark, parked across from the park in front of someone's house, sat in the car with the engine running for 10 minutes, and then drove away with nobody calling the cops on me (or even reporting "suspicious activity" on NextDoor). It happens that I was playing Pokemon GO, but if I was a little more melanin-enriched? I'm not sure I would have felt so comfortable going out and doing that.

Some sweetness, some melancholy.

Well, let's start with Azadeh's good news! She has had a couple really good moments recently. She has played nicely with friends on several occasions. She wrote a really lovely note to a schoolmate expressing sympathy (the girl's father passed away last weekend, and I was writing a card). She has been pretty kind to her brother, reading him books and nuzzling with him a bit. Twice recently she asked if she could talk on the phone with friends, and she had pleasant, short, normal-sounding conversations. She has even -- maybe a little bit -- been trying to treat her dad and me like humans. I mean, she's not good at it. But at least now when I make disgusting swill for dinner, it comes out like, "Um, Mom? I'm really sorry, and you're a really good cook. I just don't like this thing."  I'll take what I can get.

If there are negatives, they're the usual -- she stays up too late, yells a lot, complains a lot, sneaks too many snacks, makes huge messes that she refuses to clean up, and doesn't want to go to karate (and blames it all on us).

She had a pretty serious panic attack a few weeks ago, so I made an appointment for her to start some talk therapy, and she'll have her second session in a couple days. Filling out that initial paperwork was kind of hard and sad. Angry? Check. Worried? Check. Sleepless? Check. Obsessive? Check. Six pages and a lot of checks. I think this'll be a good thing, although not a quick fix, as there are no quick fixes. We're on a long, difficult slog.

I read kind of a sappy piece today by Rob Lowe (of all people) about sending his son off to college. I cried so many times while reading it that I had to take a break. Partly because it was just a lovely tribute to a difficult time of life, and partly because I'm not sure what Z's future holds. Whether we'll ever get to say, "well, I guess you're an adult now! Good luck! Be independent!"

The boy, though! I'll start with the bad, because even his bad is kind of endearing. Like, he doesn't want to wear clothes, so today as I chased him down with pants, he said, "Don't destroy my comfiness!" Or he'll be mischievous, and when Reza or I stand up from the table, he'll drag our chair across the room. It's annoying toddler stuff, but he's got this look on his face like "Ain't I a stinker?!!" I have to cover my mouth and pretend to have a straight face so often!
He has his rotten moments, too. He'll hit, or call names (thanks a lot, big sis, for teaching him the names!). But for the most part, his worst is rascally stuff -- trying to steal my hat and dunk it in the pool. Running away naked after a bath. Putting my earphones in his mouth (again!).

On the good, he's as sweet and funny and charming as ever. Today he regaled Grandpa John at length with tales of our visit to San Francisco and to the Aerospace Museum. He is drawing -- it's still scribbles, but he tells us what it is. Yesterday it was a cheetah with teeth and an M.

And the things that's blowing my mind is how fast he is running through the stages of pre-literacy. From knowing that books have stories, to "reading" us the stories by turning the pages, to sitting and looking at books by himself, to recognizing the letters of the alphabet (about half of them) and knowing the sounds that a lot of them make, to wanting to learn to read and write... He even told me one day "Teach me how to read it, because I can't read it by myself!" This kid is going to be a reader, I can tell.

Playing together so nicely!

Sister gives him love. 

A cheetah with teeth and an M.

Telling Grandpa stories. 

One of the things he told Grandpa about our trip to the museum was "...and I was the painter and Azadeh was the paint!" It doesn't make sense until you see this. 

More sweet playing together. 

I like her pink hair. It's completely faded out now. 

Pancake follow-up

We did have our pancake breakfast today. All three people we thought might attend did. And they all ate pancakes!

Luckily, I had made a ton, so we still have leftovers. And they brought juice, fruit, and bacon.

Sweetie had bought her a new book today, and I agreed to get her some Haagen-Dadz bars if she went to karate, so we've been doing a lot of rewarding lately. It feels pretty good (even though I know it seems like overkill).