Privilege (pt. 3 of 3): Take a Seat
You know, when I originally wrote this, several months ago, it was intended to only be a 2-part post. I think one of the things I’m finding though is I’m great at starting really thought-provoking discussions, but I don’t always do a great job bringing these discussions full circle. There are a few reasons for that. Part of me isn’t really all that interested in telling people how they should think or what they’re supposed to think. In some ways, that’s more didactic than I would like. Instead, part of me just wants to bring to people’s attention how they think and why it’s a problem. The reality is I don’t have all the answers, so I don’t always know the best way to bring things “full circle”.
Even so, I’ll give it a go when I can. This topic is a bit more reasonable, so I’m willing to take it on.
I’ll set some expectations first. This post will share 0 thoughts on policy. Policy is absolutely fine, and I think there will be policy change either way, whether I way in on that discussion or not. Beyond that, there are many, many scholars in the academy doing policy work already: from economists and sociologists, to OB theorists and psychology experts, to criminologists and public health researchers and beyond. No, I won’t be discussing policy. Instead, here, I’ll offer more of a psychological, social, and spiritual commentary. Not only are these a bit more up my alley than a policy discussion, but I think there are nuances here that will probably be better for discussion purposes, at least given the audience I tend to draw.
We’ve talked about definitions of privilege (part 1). We’ve talked about different types of privilege (part 2). At this point, in discussing next steps, it’s probably best to focus on practicals for having conversations about privilege. I have some practicals below. Hopefully there are a few nuggets in there.
If your goal is to understand, find people who can help you.
Far too often when it comes to discussions that are challenging or topics we’re not super fond of, we just settle for “I don’t understand,” Or “I don’t get it,” America has one of the highest rates of college graduates per capita in the world. Somehow, I just have difficulty accepting that all of these people who have spent 16, 18, 19, 20, and sometimes even 20+ years in school are completely stumped on how to engage in a critical exchange of ideas and learn something that eluded them before. While I don’t equate college degrees with intellect, Americans are incredibly bright. I think we’re lazy, and we can be entitled, but I definitely think we’re ridiculously bright.
So, “I don’t get it,” just isn’t going to cut it. You’re bright. And you probably have a few dollars in your bank account. In addition to adding some books to your library (maybe ask people for a few references), or watching a documentary or two, talk to a friend who can help you understand. It can be something as simple as, “Hey Stephanie, I’ve been giving male privilege a bit more thought as of late. I’m just trying to hear from different people and get some perspective. Maybe when you have time we can grab a coffee?”
That’s probably cheaper than buying a book, if you’re tight on money.
I think one of the reasons people shy away from doing this is sometimes, we can feel like when we’re having a discussion, we need responses, rebuttals, and thoughtful follow ups. Not necessarily. You can actually make it explicitly clear at the start, “I’m just here to listen. My agenda is to ask questions and gain perspective.” In this day and age, you know how rare it is for someone to pass on an opportunity to talk? Oh my gosh… you’ll probably blow their mind. Don’t let people pressure you into voicing your thoughts and ideas before you’re ready to… listen… read… think things over. You can grab coffee with someone, listen to their thoughts, jot down some notes, ask some follow up questions, and have a great experience, without necessarily sharing that much on your end. I think most (nice) people aren’t going to grill you, and they’ll respect what you’re doing. But guys, we need to try. Find people who can help you understand. Maybe they’re people you know and trust, or maybe they’re people that aren’t in your inner circle. Either way, start somewhere. It’s probably important to connect with the right kinds of people though. This brings us to another thought.
If you’re only talking about privilege with people who look like you, you’re probably not off to a great start.
Can you imagine what my discussions would look like if I only discussed male privilege with people who looked like me? Anybody see why that would be problematic? Discussing MALE privilege with other men? Even for men who acknowledge their male privilege, they aren’t the disadvantaged party. They aren’t the victim. While their account is important, in many ways, it’s probably even more important to get the account of the marginalized persons, women. That’s like me trying to learn about Jim Crow, but I’m learning about it only from white people. While that’s great, there’s probably a lot that I would overlook if I don’t get the account of the marginalized persons of the Jim Crow era, ie. black people.
Far too often though, these conversations take place in homogenous pockets. I’m guilty of this, too. For obvious reasons, I tend to have a strong preference for talking about race and privilege with other black people. Outside of that, Asian and Hispanic people. White people are, literally, at the very bottom of that list, if I’m being completely honest (there are exception, which I’ll share more about later). This is to the detriment of the cause though. I can’t talk about white privilege and just exclude white people… that makes very little sense, albeit that’s a strong temptation. Similarly, I can’t just talk about male privilege with men. I can’t just talk about American privilege with Americans. And I can’t just talk about Christian privilege with other Christians.
It’s difficult to have a fruitful conversation or discussion on these things when you’re only discussing privilege with people who look like you, or are otherwise similar.
You’re probably not as great as you think you are. Start the conversation there.
If you notice throughout part 1 and 2, I consistently make reference to being a “bad” person. While I’m not especially a fan of this ambiguous language, because whether or not you’re bad is probably relative to who the judge is (Luke 18:19), I do think it’s helpful in a discussion on privilege. I’ll highlight at least 3 reasons why below.
- Having privilege has nothing to do with whether or not you are a “good” person. I would venture to say even Jesus had [male] privilege because he was a man in a very, very conservative society. I know for a fact the Apostle Paul had privilege. He was a Roman citizen. He was a former Pharisee. AND he was incredibly well educated. Privilege has nothing to do with whether or not you’re a “good” person. Indeed, the son of God, and Saint Paul himself, both fit the bill of privilege in different capacities, so privilege doesn’t tell us much about whether you’re “good” or “bad”. I will say, however, some people may feel you’re not a good person if you’re unwilling to acknowledge your privilege (Paul acknowledges his throughout the letters; my opinion is that Jesus understood male privilege, as he made it a point to be counter cultural in many of his interactions in the gospel, including how he interacted with women).
- Part of what makes these discussions on privilege difficult is everyone seems to enter the conversation with these lofty views of themselves. “I don’t even see race. I grew up in a super multicultural community. Look how diverse my Facebook is, my friends are, my Instagram is, etc.” Can I share something with you? You’re probably not as great as you think you are. If we were all as conscious, and aware, and culturally mindful as we think we are, then none of us would be having these conversations to start with. So, all of us, minorities included, need to be open to the fact that we have room for growth and are still on a journey of learning. That’s a much better place to start the conversation than, “I know I’m not a bad person,”
- The Bible says there are no good people (Luke 18:19). True story. You can be nice. Respectful. Multicultural. Cosmopolitan. Generous. Philanthropic, even. But the Bible says there are no good people. Nobody is good except God alone. So, if you start the conversation thinking, “I’m not a bad person”, in essence, you’re saying you and Jesus are the only good people in the history of mankind. Or, maybe there are no good people, but you have a little bit more goodness than the rest of us, for whatever reason. If this sounds absolutely absurd, I’m glad. It should. Because it is. Check Romans 12:3. We shouldn’t think more highly of ourselves than we ought. Instead, the call is to think about yourself with sober judgement. Starting the conversation thinking, “I’m not a bad person,” is a pretty bad way to begin a conversation on privilege.
I can’t stress this enough: this point isn’t only for those who are being criticized of privilege. I’m sure it’s easy to think, “I’m the victim. I’m disadvantaged. I’m a good person.” No, not quite. You’re both bad people, haha, but one of you may have privilege (in a specific domain of life).
Everything can’t be about you. In fact, it never should.
I’ll extend the point in bold above. The world would be a terrible, terrible place if everything were about you. It would be a terrible place if everything were about me. I mentioned this in Part 1 already, but as I said before, I don’t really give a lot of thought to people who are (physically) handicapped. I don’t think about people who can’t see. I don’t think about people who can’t hear. I don’t think about people who can’t walk. And, of course, we know there’s a whole host of other handicaps.
I stand by what I said. The world would be a terrible place.
There are people around the world being oppressed by corrupt political leaders and their regimes. Many of them are in countries I’ve never been to, with languages I don’t know how to speak. I’ll (perhaps) never hear about it in the news. It’s quite unlikely I’ll visit all of those countries, and I can almost guarantee that I’ll never learn most of those languages. Millions of women around the world are still being sold by sex traffickers. People around the globe are still dying as a result of common illnesses, if for no other reason than the fact they don’t have access to healthcare. Heck, there are places where people don’t even have running water.
This isn’t just a “third world” problem. Graduation rates in America’s inner cities are still depressingly low. Millions of Americans will suffer every day because they don’t have health insurance. Veterans come back home from tours abroad, and they’re scarred, for life, because of the horror and trauma of war. Some of those people will never be the same. We could do this all day.
If you’re like me, you probably don’t think about these day to day. I stand by what I said. The world would be a terrible, terrible place, if everything was about me. Somehow, though, when someone brings privilege to our attention, we have a tendency to do just that. If a woman tells me she gets catcalled walking down the street every day to work, the correct response is not, “I’m sorry. But sometimes, when I’m at the beach, ladies squeeze my pecks. I get violated, too!” This interaction is about a marginalized person, who’s trying to have a discussion on privilege. If she feels marginalized, and she’s trying to discuss privilege, and I jack the conversation and make it about me, doesn’t that exacerbate the problem? Doesn’t that further disadvantage her? Doesn’t that further marginalize her?
Everything can’t be about me. It doesn’t mean things will never be about me. But everything can NOT be about me, and it’s toxic for me to think that way. You further marginalize disadvantaged people when you do that. If you’ve been told you have privilege, resolve to proceed in conversations without making things explicitly about you (Philippians 2:1-10).
If you’re a beneficiary of privilege (ie. Being male, being white, being American, and/or being Christian), take initiative and start the conversation.
As a marginalized, underrepresented minority, I’ll be very transparent in saying I don’t discuss race and privilege with everybody. I discuss it mostly with black people. Beyond that, periodically, I’ll discuss it with Asian or Hispanic people. Not surprisingly, I’m least inclined to discuss it with white people (I probably need to write a post or 2 on this). Now, the EXCEPTION to this is when my white friends bring up discussion on race and privilege. Once they do, I see this as 1. Creating a safe space for me (most people who have privilege don’t want to talk about it, because they don’t want to feel bad about themselves) and 2. An openness to dialogue, because we usually don’t initiate discussions on things we don’t think exist (Have you noticed that nobody ever asks you what you think about leprechauns? Or the boogeyman? Or unicorns? Of course not… we don’t think they’re real. There’s nothing to discuss.) I never talk about race or privilege with white people, unless they don’t bring it up. I’m always open to talking about it if they do bring it up. But otherwise… I’ll pass.
I imagine most forms of privilege operate like this. I don’t think my feminist friends meet at a bar, or for coffee, or have me over for dinner and just start dropping all of their controversial positions on male oppression and misogyny. They probably do that a lot more with their female friends. But if they’re kicking it with me and I bring up the discussion, for instance, Donald Trump and the male privilege that I think he has, I would venture to say they’ll feel inclined to weigh in, too. I almost guarantee it. I just created a safe space. I have privilege, and I’m willing to talk about it. Further, unlike leprechauns and unicorns, I actually think [male] privilege is real, which is why I brought it up. I don’t mean to ostracize people who are wrestling with the idea of privilege. I stand by my earlier comment: even if you don’t agree with the privilege narrative, you can create a safe space and express interest in learning more.
Again, I think most people who have privilege don’t want to talk about it at all.
I have a number of white friends I think are extremely good at this. Zack and Jen in Philly are phenomenal. Chance is great, too. Yo, Allie be on Facebook BRINGING THE HEAT; YOU DON’T EVEN KNOW. And for the most part, these are just normal people. No special schooling or training or certification. I just think they’re really open people. While we may differ time to time on specifics, I appreciate the fact that they have consistently taken initiative in bringing up discussions on race and privilege. Once they open the door, I walk right through. In general though, with my white friends, I’m not really at a place where I feel comfortable trying to come through the door, if I don’t see the door opened up (ie. initiating the discussion).
Contrary to popular belief, your comfort is not the most important thing.
We live in America. We like to be comfortable. I think spirituality, perhaps, has fallen prey to this more than anything else. If it’s not comfortable, it’s not Christianity. Jesus died for our life, liberty, and the pursuit of comfort. That’s lunacy; what gospel are you reading from? Our leader was brutally murdered on a cross (Luke 18:26-49), slandered and falsely accused (Isaiah 53:7; Luke 23:2-3), spat on (Matthew 26:67), abandoned in his time of need by his best friends (Matthew 26:36-46; Mark 14:43-50; Matthew 26:73-75), and committed his life to serving other people (Matthew 20:25-28), perhaps especially people who were poor, rejected, and/or marginalized. Extrapolating, he probably wasn’t particularly handsome (Isaiah 53:2), so I’m guessing he wasn’t a popular choice with the ladies. Also, as a carpenter (Matthew 13:55; Mark 6:3), his income was [probably] modest, at best. What about denying yourself, taking up the cross, and following Jesus sounds comfortable? Similarly, when we discuss race and privilege, why should anyone expect that their comfort should be the most important thing?
If for whatever reason I elect to weigh in on a discussion of privilege, here or elsewhere, my goal isn’t to ensure everyone feels comfortable.
Let me be clear. I’m not saying your comfort isn’t important. People shouldn’t roll up in your face dropping F bombs, invade your personal space, make personal digs at you as a person, etc. But in truth, sometimes that happens, particularly if it’s someone who doesn’t subscribe to Christian ideals. Beyond that though, if a woman is talking to me about male privilege, my comfort can’t and shouldn’t be the most important thing. If an atheist is talking to me about Christian privilege, my comfort can’t and shouldn’t be the most important thing. Similarly, if I’m talking to a white person about white supremacy, white privilege, colonialism, slavery, Jim Crow, or any type of race relations in America, past or present, it would be ill advised to make their comfort the most important thing… if we plan on having an informative conversation, anyway.
If you make an environment where being comfortable is the chief goal, there are certain conversations you’ll just never have, privilege included.
Now, I want to be inclusive. Being inclusive is about being welcoming though. But you feeling welcome and you feeling comfortable are quite distinct. In February 2018, as part of the film/documentary series I hosted for Black History Month, I had 4 discussions afterwards on privilege, police brutality, race relations, and microagressions/appropriation. As the moderator, it was important to me that everybody felt welcomed, and I thanked everyone for coming, Black, White, Asian, Hispanic, whatever. Indeed, the participation of people who were not black is what made it an exceptional event. That said, I’m sure there were aspects of the discussion that were very uncomfortable, particularly for white men. They were the antagonist in almost every single film (Get Out, perhaps, was the exception, where the antagonist was a white woman).
But again, I think the event was better because it was uncomfortable.
Sure, I want people to be comfortable, but it’s not the most important thing. I think Jesus would echo something similar. He wants us to have life to the full, but I don’t think that means He only calls us to do things that are easy and convenient.
Contrary to popular belief, agreement isn’t [necessarily] the goal.
I should mention, there are rare cases where agreement is the goal. If I’m having a discussion with someone about whether or not God wants me to love ISIS, then hopefully we could come to agreement God wants me to love everyone (Mark 12:30-31; Luke 10:25-37), including people who call me their enemy.
In general though, for most discussions on race and privilege, things won’t be that black and white, no pun intended.
For that reason, I think it’s imperative to go into the discussion understanding agreement isn’t the goal. It’s okay for people to disagree, albeit frustrating. If you attend a church where everyone agrees on conversations of race, privilege, etc., I would venture to say your church isn’t diverse enough. We need to understand homogeneity produces consensus. Diversity produces diverging perspectives. I would be shocked to be in a diverse room where we all think the same way about everything. That’s just highly unlikely.
We get tripped up because we think the church makes us more similar than it actually does. Sure, we serve the same God, read the same Bible, and attend the same church in the same country. Aside from that though, the similarities need not be extensive. We drink this koolaid that we’re going to be a part of this (church) family that never disagrees (Acts 15:36-41), never has drama (Acts 6:1-4), and has diverse people dwelling together in harmony that never bump heads about veganism/dietary restrictions (Romans 14:17), race (Galatians 2:11-21), or even attending the same church as your slave master (see Philemon).
If we dig into the scriptures though, we see that notion isn’t supported. Most of the churches we read about in the New Testament did NOT dwell together in perfect harmony. So, when you have a discussion on male privilege with someone, maybe they don’t see it. If you have a discussion on white privilege, maybe they disagree. If you have a discussion about Christian privilege or American privilege, maybe they think you’re loco.
Can’t win em’ all. *Shrugs*
Here are some goals instead of making it your goal for the person to agree with you. You could pursue one of these goals, or multiple goals, in lieu of reaching some consensus at the close of your conversation:
Goal 1: “This person doesn’t believe in male privilege. While I have a very different impression, let me make it a goal in this conversation to understand their rationale and make sure I practice active listening.”
Goal 2: “This person doesn’t believe in white privilege. While I tend to have a very different impression, I know I need to grow in my patience and gentleness, so let me work hard at being like Jesus over the next 15 minutes.”
Goal 3: “This person doesn’t believe in American privilege. Their response sounds pretty egocentric, and the logic appears weak. But Jesus calls for me to love everyone, so let me make sure I’m still loving in this conversation and hear them out.”
Goal 4: “This person doesn’t see any form of Christian privilege, at all, in America. While I think that’s unlikely, I’ve never spoken about Christian privilege with this person, so let me try and learn something new.”
If you have goals like these, you won’t leave (most) conversations feeling like your time was wasted or you were defeated. If you make getting the person to agree with you, I’ll venture to say you’ll leave many, if not most, conversations and discussions on privilege feeling defeated and/or your time was wasted.
** I should note all of these goals should work even if you’re on the opposite side of the spectrum and don’t believe in any of these forms of privilege; however, since I tend to believe in all of these forms of privilege, I elected to frame these in the way I would approach it in my mind.
We’re already over 3,600 words. I guess this is what happens when I try and bring things full circle. But hopefully this was helpful. Feedback welcome.
Nnam’