Call it privilege

I decided to finally come up for air in a week that has felt more like a month and a half.

So it is in this wild version of reality we’re living that I have eighty five things to think and write about.

The one that has me most interested is our current, collective reaction to our President’s ongoing misogyny and complete refusal to comply with even the lowest acceptable standards of propriety and respect.

While I understand the source of reflections like “I don’t want to raise my son or daughter in a world where that guy has power and influence because of the terrible example he sets” I think it falls short of what we’re capable of, and what would be truly powerful, and transformative in this ever disturbing moment in history.

Instead of shielding our children from the president’s commentary (and others like it) or condemning it for how it fails, morally and otherwise, we have an opportunity to call out and name what makes it possible that a man who speaks and acts like that holds the highest office in all the land.

It’s called privilege, and chances are good, if you have the resources and insight and motivation to want to shield your kids from the president, you (and your kids) have it too.

The biggest, most important reason president trump continues to get away with his juvenile, erratic, disrespectful, bigoted, autocratic, ignorant behavior is his privilege. Race. Gender. Class. Privilege. He is a man who has lived his entire adult life doing, saying and acting any way he wanted, pretty much without consequence. He has done so because he’s white, and male, and rich.

The signifier of privilege is anything in your identity that you don’t think about in your daily life. For me, my race and class and education are invisible aspects of who I am that play a critical role in how I experience the world, but of which I’m rarely aware. My gender, on the other hand, is something I think about constantly. I think about it when I’m in an elevator, alone with a man, especially late at night, while I’m traveling by myself for work. I think about when I’m working on the retail floor and someone makes a comment about my body. I think about it when my family shows enthusiastic interest in my dating life and almost none in my career.

Part of the problem with privilege is those of us with the most are least aware of it.

I still remember two years ago when I was traveling on crutches and got dropped by a cab driver, with my luggage, 400 yards from the door of my hotel. I’d gotten out of a cab at least that far from my destination countless times before, but only considered it a problem when the limitation of my ability made a significant impact on how I experienced a familiar situation.

We can keep feeling horrified and frustrated by the president or we can take the opportunity to learn one of the many lessons his presidency is trying to teach us. We can teach little boys to say only nice things about women and hope to raise good, young men, or we can talk about what it means to be born a male in this world and maybe transform the future of masculinity altogether.

We can keep condemning the problematic actions of others or we can turn to ourselves and seek a solution.

I for one, am a woman of action.

My commitment is to be more conscious of my own privilege especially in my every day life, and to help others do the same. I’m going to figure out how to talk to my nephews about their privilege and help my friends talk to their kids about theirs.

Those of us with the most privilege own the biggest responsibility for how it does or does not continue to impact who we are for each other.

I believe we can make a big impact, together.

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