White Skin Privilege

                  Our generation didn't build the house of racism,

                   but we are living in it and reaping its benefits.

Whitewashed

I was born male, with white skin, and with many white privileges of which I was unaware. I grew up with the belief that my life would be what I made it—that I simply had to work hard and take advantage of the opportunities available to me. And because I was white, there were many. After all, America was the land of opportunity, and pursuing a version of the American dream had been woven into the very fabric of my being With numerous resources opportunities available to me, I took advantage of them and felt no guilt for doing so. Navigating through white culture allowed me to accumulate enough wealth to live in a safe neighborhood, 

get a good education, buy nutritious food, obtain good health care, drink clean water, and open up all kinds of opportunities to create a life that I desired.

 I realized I had advantages that those of black skin did not, but I didn’t see that inequality as something I could change. My liberal heart would ache for the plight of those who were disenfranchised in our society when the images were regularly served to me on television, but I wasn’t responsible for it. It wasn’t my fault. I blamed my racist and unevolved ancestors. Shame on them.

 I was blind.

 It’s supremely difficult to maintain hope and to stoke motivation in the face of reduced opportunities. Many times I have heard the phrase, “they just need to pull themselves up by their bootstraps.” But you know, to do that, you have to have some bootstraps. You have to have the resources available so that positive steps can be taken.

As a white male, I was unaware of the daily trials and tribulations that people of color in this country have to face that I don’t because of one physical characteristic—they had black skin. I could walk down a street without feeling the eyes of judgment from those I passed. I could walk through a store without someone following me to make sure I didn’t steal anything. I could get a loan to buy a house in a nice neighborhood and find a job that would pay for it. No one judged me because I had white skin. Not once in my life have I ever been concerned about being judged for the color of my skin. That’s a privilege. 

I have been “whitewashed” throughout my life, ignorant of the many levels where racism exists in this country and the world. I have been blind to the powerful financial, legal, and governmental systems that keep white people (mostly males) and blacks disempowered.

I have been ignorant of my own complicit racism. I have enabled racism to continue by looking the other way. Enablers are people who tolerate and contribute to the continued existence of toxic conditions. Someone who enables an alcoholic can have loving intentions, but their actions continue to support the dysfunctional drinker. In effect, they become part of the problem because they are propping up the alcoholic by excusing him/her and looking the other way.

I am learning that I enable racism to continue by not speaking up when I see it or not confronting someone when they tell a racist joke. I support it by not watching documentaries that could inform me and educate me. I support it by willfully staying ignorant of the many ways that society disenfranchises people of color. I support it with my silence.

Because our society is still very much segregated, it’s easy for us white people to remain ignorant—to look the other way. It’s easy to live a life that rarely intersects with black people and to cling to the illusion that we can all “make it” if we only put in the effort. But that’s like putting 30 extra pounds on a horse in the derby and expecting that horse to win. It doesn’t and it can’t. Many times I have heard the phrase, “black people  need to pull themselves up by their bootstraps.” But you know, to do that, you have to have some bootstraps. You have to have the resources available so that positive steps can be taken. In so many ways, black people don’t have access to those resources.

We only have to open our eyes to see the stark reality for people of color in this country. The mass incarcerations of black males over the last 30 years, largely for drug offenses, have decimated family systems. These men are removed from society, can’t vote, and placed in the most abusive environment on the planet. Meanwhile, the single mothers left behind, working low wage jobs with few resources at their disposal, are ill equipped to provide an environment that gives their children anything close to the footing that most white families enjoy. Segregated by neighborhoods and confronted daily by the realities of being black in a white man’s world, many young people of color become prey to depression and delinquency.

It’s not possible for a white person to understand what black’s experience in our society, but I want to invite you to put on your imagination hat for a moment. First, I want you to close your eyes and to imagine that the world of color is flipped. Imagine that America is literally filled with people of color and that white people are in the minority. Imagine walking into a grocery store and only seeing 4 or 5 people with white skin, like yourself. Imagine going to college where 95% of the students are people of color. Feel the daily pain of going into a retail store and being scrutinized for fear that you are going to steal something. Allow yourself to feel the fear of being pulled over by a black cop, frisked, and questioned simply because you looked “suspicious.” What would it be like to be consistently turned down for business loans or to not be called back for job interviews? Would you not suspect it was all because of your race? But how could you prove it?

If you did the above exercise in earnest, then you gave yourself a gift—a gift of perspective. It is almost impossible for those of us who are white to see the world through the eyes of minorities, but we can try. And when we try, our hearts and minds can begin to open. Compassion can replace judgment. Being informed can replace ignorance. Love can replace fear.

I do not feel guilty for being white, but the reality is that I have been privileged because of my white skin. I don’t need to apologize for it, but I need to recognize it and not deny it. 

Our demographics are changing. Although America still feels very “white,” the reality is that only 63% of the people in this country now are white and that percentage is dropping. There is great resistance to this change from those in power. Using their legal, financial, and governmental power, they seek to keep a stranglehold on what has been. But thankfully, that is beginning to change. People across the world in large numbers are saying, “no” to inequality and injustice.

The Black Lives Matter movement goes far beyond being treated fairly by our police force. It’s much larger than that. The entire system of privilege based on skin color must change if black lives matter—for until they do, we can’t say “all lives matter.” I salute those around the world who are peacefully marching to the beat of that drum.

 A more equitable world can be created. We are all One. Let’s support a world that reflects that Oneness!

I have a doctorate in counseling psychology and have been a psychotherapist for 35 years. My work centers around helping others to heal from trauma, release old beliefs and behaviors that no longer serve them, and cultivate new patterns that allow them to thrive.  stevensmithpsychologist.com

I am also an author of a book based on 5 life-enhancing principles, titled, “Living Your Best: A Powerful Blueprint for Personal Transformation.”   https://stevensmith-author.com/