5 Things You Can Do With Your Privilege

#1. OWN IT.

We recently returned from a year-long sabbatical across 5 continents and 23 countries. Throughout our travels we (me, my husband, and our two children) have had the opportunity to hear the life stories of people from around the world — some inspiring, some heartbreaking, all of them eye opening. It has been a great honor, and it’s also intensified my awareness of my own privilege.

It seems like people (particularly in the USA) have a near allergic reaction to the word privilege these days. Add “white” and “male” to the equation and it’s an all-out war. Why is that? Why are we often hesitant to see or admit where we have privilege?

Someone once told me that those with the most privilege are the least likely to see it. I think that is true. I’ve worked hard ever since, to SEE.

This is what I see…

I was lucky enough to have a Mom and Dad who told me I could do anything I set my mind to do. I grew up knowing I was capable, smart, supported and loved. I was never beaten, raped or sexually abused. When I was sad and needed my mom, I had one to call. When I smile and say hello to people, they generally trust me — no matter where I am in the world — almost immediately. That is privilege.

My family could afford to feed us every day, without having to beg or steal. My parents paid for me to go to college. I qualified for loans to go to grad school, and I had enough money to pay the application fees. If ever I didn’t have enough money for something really important in my life, my parents were usually in a position to loan me the money. For example, buying a plane ticket home or fixing my car. The simple fact that I’ve had a car since the age of 16…that is privilege. I see now that a large percentage of the world relies on walking or public transportation.

I was raised in a middle-class family, in a relatively wealthy and safe area of California, where I didn’t own a house key. I never remember questioning my personal safety as a kid or the safety of our home or neighborhood. That is privilege.

I grew up in a country of free speech, where I couldn’t be arrested or killed for sharing my opinions. As an American, I can say whatever I want about our government or our president, without consequence. Much of the rest of the world…not so much. I don’t have to worry about widespread power outages or rolling blackouts. Having clean water to drink right from the tap and lights that come on when I flip a switch is not something I even spent time feeling grateful about until we spent a year around the world. As a North American I can consume what I want, in terms of resources — water, gas, electricity, food, building materials, etc. — so long as I have the means to pay for it. Availability of resources is not an issue (yet) for most North Americans. That is privilege.

I’m white. I’m heterosexual. I didn’t have to fight to change laws before I could get married to the person I love. I was raised in a widely accepted religion — Catholicism. I’m able bodied. I was able to have children (and plan their births thanks to having access to birth control and medical care). That is privilege.

What nobody told me growing up, is that I’ve had a powerful tailwind helping to accelerate my success and good fortune. As white Americans many of us grow up learning that our country is great because everyone has an equal chance to achieve their goals. It’s the land of opportunity, a place where you can fulfill the American Dream. Not enough of us learn that the world, even in the United States, isn’t all that fair. The ones who learn it best are those who experience the inequities firsthand. Many people are faced with a headwind as powerful as my tailwind. Everyone is not equally set up for success — even if they try a little harder, work a little harder, pray a little harder or just believe a little harder.

I’ll never forget the day that a friend of mine hit this point home for me…

A few years ago, we were on a Shepard family road trip around California, and our car broke down in the middle of nowhere. We called Triple A and sat for hours, at a roadside rest stop, waiting for a tow truck to arrive. Ben was just three and Adi was six. It was a very hot day, and we were all tired. When the tow truck finally arrived, we discovered that it was over two hours to the nearest mechanic who could assess the car. We ended up chatting it up with the driver while Ben and Adi drifted off for a much needed nap in the backseat. The driver was a delightful, small-town, kind-hearted guy who clearly loved to meet new people. Brad and I bonded with him in a nanosecond. After a long drive we finally arrived at the auto shop late on a Friday afternoon and Ben was still sound asleep in the back seat. The driver kindly offered to drive us around town so Ben could continue his nap while Brad spoke with the mechanic. As we were driving around town with the A/C cranked, we drove up to a small farmers market and he hopped out to say a quick hello to his wife, who was picking up some produce. About 10 minutes later he climbed back into the truck and enthusiastically announced that he and his wife would like to invite us to stay the night and have dinner with them, given the situation with our car.

Wow, people are kind, I thought. And he was. It was a very sweet offer that we fully intended to take him up on, until we got a call from the shop letting us know that our car would be ready sooner than expected. I remember actually feeling disappointed (you might be an extrovert if…) that our car was ready for pickup sooner than anticipated. We were all looking forward to sleeping in a country house in the middle of rural California with our newfound friends. Instead, we said our goodbyes and hit the road. Once we were back in the car, I wrote a Facebook post about the kindness of strangers and our good fortune.

We didn’t question if we would be safe. We didn’t question if the color of our skin would put us at risk. We didn’t think about whether or not this same wonderful kindness would have been extended to a black family in our shoes with a broken down car. As white people, we had the luxury of not having to think about race. It was a non-issue.

When we returned home, one of our dear friends, who is African American, said that he had seen my story on FB. His first thought was, “wow, how cool is that?” followed quickly by, “that would never happen to me and my family.” His words stopped me in my tracks. I felt both sad and humbled to think that their reality was so different than ours. He hadn’t said this in a bitter, victimized, or gotcha, kind of way — just more like a fact. Were we more likely to be extended this dinner/sleepover invitation because of our whiteness? I will never know for sure, but my gut says yes.

I can tell you that I no longer take complete credit for my success or good fortune.

As many of you know from reading about our travel experiences over the past year, this good fortune has continued for us. All around the world we have seen how quickly people trust us. It has been an incredible gift to meet so many open-hearted people. We have felt welcomed and loved. We have been treated with kindness and curiosity. Complete strangers have helped us with everything from reading labels in the grocery store to hailing a cab or finding a place to sleep or even crossing the street when they could see the overwhelmed look in our eyes. We have been so fortunate.

All this stuff about privilege has been kicking around in my head for months, years really.

What finally inspired me to write about it was coming face to face with some really heartbreaking circumstances in Rwanda, and many other places too. As someone who has always believed that I, you, anyone, can achieve their dreams — I am finding that our trip around the world has rocked my world view.

At times throughout this year I have felt ignorant and embarrassed that I didn’t really understand how good I have it, until I was face to face with other people’s reality and misfortune. I think I knew it intellectually but not viscerally. Am I a grateful person? Absolutely. Do I count my blessings regularly and thank the people who have helped me along the way? Yes, I’d like to think so. But that’s just it, I have people who have helped me along the way — my parents, my sisters, Brad, my friends, my neighbors, and even perfect strangers. Recently we have met people who literally have nobody. No parents. No aunts and uncles. No free primary education. No job (in countries with 20–40% unemployment rates).

So, why do so many of us resist owning up to our privilege?

Privilege doesn’t mean that I’ve had no challenges. It doesn’t mean that I haven’t had to work hard. It doesn’t mean that I have never experienced injustice. It doesn’t mean that I got to hang out eating bon bons while opportunities fell in my lap. It doesn’t mean I’m guaranteed prosperity or wealth. No, it doesn’t mean any of that. All it means is that I have had forces beyond my control (such as being born white into a middle class family in America) that have helped propel me into the life that I have now. And with that realization comes a responsibility. A responsibility like I’ve never felt with so much conviction — to stand up for those on the margins. A responsibility to help those less fortunate than I.

#2. Stand Up and Speak Up (even when it’s easier to shut up)

When I was about 24, I was driving in the car with my dad and my young nephew who was about 12 at the time. I had recently read an article about how Black people are less likely to be chosen as renters/tenants than white people with the same income, credit scores and references. On this particular day in the car, my dad was going on and on about how unfair the world is, and how affirmative action had really screwed things up in the city of San Francisco. Essentially, he was building the case for why, in actuality, it was the white guys who were really suffering and being treated unfairly. I remember feeling sick. My palms started sweating and my heart was beating quickly. I love my dad dearly and understood where he was coming from, but I was not about to let him brainwash the next generation of white men in our family into believing that they were the true victims of racism. For fucks sake. When I challenged him it wasn’t pretty. It went from a calm discussion backed by data to an impassioned debate to an all-out yelling match. It wasn’t my finest hour with my Dad. I think this is what many of us fear when we imagine standing up to racism. It would have been a lot easier to simply keep my mouth shut and not challenge him, but that didn’t seem like the right thing to do.

Fast forward about 25 years. During Black history month (February 2019) I prepared a post about white privilege and had planned to highlight some of the best books I’d read over the year that addressed topics of race, written by African or African American authors. Instead, I chickened out. I never posted it. Why? For fear of being the left wing, liberal minded, pie in the sky, stirring the pot, anti-white, person. As a white person I can remain safe and silent and my world continues to spin just as it would have…with me, experiencing greater ease and opportunity because of my whiteness, sexual orientation, socioeconomic status, able-bodied-ness, etc. The problem is that I no longer feel ok about that — about remaining silent and thinking that that is enough. I mean, I’m not racist myself, right? Wrong. What I’m coming to realize is that there are different types of racism. In the book “Why are all the Black Kids Sitting Together in the Cafeteria?”, author Beverly Tatum O’Neil differentiates between passive and active racism. Active racism is consciously and intentionally being bias against a certain race. This kind of racism can be evidenced in your words and behaviors. But there is also such a thing as passive racism. I was born white, clearly by no intention of my own, and as a result I benefit from a system of advantage based on race. My whiteness alone gives me certain invisible advantages. If I’m benefiting from a system of advantage based on race, and by doing nothing to shake that system up, then I am passively contributing to it. So, the question I’m asking myself lately is this: how can I go from being passively racist to being actively antiracist? And how can I get other white people to join me?

#3. Don’t use God as an Excuse for Inaction

I often hear religious people say things like God is good or God will show them the way or God will provide. But I’m not so sure about that. I know that religious institutions often have great impact and passion in helping people, but I also sometimes wonder if it is used as an excuse for inaction. If God is there to help then do I really need to?

My daughter Adi (age 12) recently asked, in response to meeting so many God-loving people in Rwanda, “Where was God during the genocide, Mom?” And, “Where was God during the Holocaust?” The fact is, there are some really crappy and horrific circumstances that people are often born into, that no amount of praying- hard, working-hard or believing-hard, will release them from. And as long as those of us with the privilege allow ourselves to believe that this is a country (and a world) of equal opportunity — or that God will jump in to save people — there will be a part of us that feels off the hook to be part of the solution.

Year’s ago when I lived in Truckee CA, I went through a time where I felt a bit spiritually void, having left the Catholic Church years prior. In my longing for spiritual guidance, I decided to give church another shot. A friend of mine recommended a Christian church that she liked, and I attended Sunday service. I went in with an open heart and an open mind. At one point the pastor talked about the “fact” that unless you accept Jesus Christ into your heart then you do not go to heaven (or something like that). I remember thinking — wait, what about the people in tiny, remote villages around the world who have never even heard of Jesus?What about the people who believe in a different God? Or no God? They aren’t allowed into heaven? It all sounded a bit suspect to me so I went to the pastor after church and asked him some questions. I still remember his very unsatisfying answer — something to the effect of “we must have faith that they will find Jesus Christ or that Jesus Christ will find them.” This seemed like the most arrogant and ignorant thing I had ever heard. Not only did his response rub me the wrong way, but it also sounded suspiciously like that of the colonizers who brought plague and famine to many of the countries we visited. Some might call it faith, but I called it bullshit and never went back.

Now that I have travelled to some of these remote corners of the world, and met some of the most God-loving, pray-daily kind of people, I’m more convinced than ever that so much of our success in life is based on luck of the draw — the socioeconomic status of our parents, our country of origin, our race, the type of family we were born into, the education we had access to, etc. — NOT how hard we pray. I hate to admit this, but I no longer believe that you can positive-think-your-way or pray-your-way out of a truly crappy situation. I don’t know how to reconcile the fact that I seem to have pulled this off repeatedly in my own life — with vision boards and 1 year letters to myself and iron clad goals — yet have met people who pray harder and think more positively than I ever have or ever will, who are still stuck in horrendous circumstances. How does one reconcile this?

#4. Get Curious

I have never been more aware of the headwind that so many people face as they go through life. I’m here questioning how I can make a difference. How can I use my privilege for good rather than perpetuate more of the same? How can I share what I’ve been given to help level the playing field? I can tell you that since I’ve had more openness to hearing what life is like as a person of color, I’ve had many clients, friends and strangers tell me their stories. Stories from black men who go above and beyond to ensure people feel safe around them. Stories from gay colleagues who don’t feel comfortable talking about their relationship at work. Stories from black women about how risky it is to show anger, for fear of being labeled ABW (which I’ve come to learn means “angry black woman”. Common enough to have its own acronym? Really? Where have I been? How did I make it to almost 50 years old before being exposed to a term that is commonplace in black communities? I think a good question to ask any person of color is “What is it like to walk through the world as a person of your race? What are some of the things you think about as a person of color (or LGBTQ, disabled, age, gender, etc) that I likely never have to consider as a white person?” (Or as a straight person, able bodied person, young person, male)

People may or may not want to have these conversations with you — but if you show up as a trustworthy and genuinely curious advocate, you will be surprised at how open people will be. Let your learning and awareness fuel your empathy and action.

#5. Don’t Just Stand There. Do Something

In looking for ways to actively help level the playing field, I’ve landed on 5 key actions & goals (in bold below) that I think will be a good start. I hope you will do the same.

I see men stepping up more and more to advocate for women’s rights and for equality in their workplaces. This inspires me beyond belief. As women, many of us are getting tired. It’s so nice to share the weight of carrying the torch for women’s rights. But when I ask myself what I am doing to stand up for the rights of those less fortunate than me? People of color. Disabled. LBGTQ. Immigrants. The answer is clear — not enough.

FIVE things I can do…

1. I am often approached to coach and mentor up and coming professionals who are venturing into the field of consulting, coaching or other entrepreneurial endeavors. I give these folks time because I truly LOVE to help other people be successful. I have had many folks who’ve helped pave the way for me to be successful so it’s my way to pay it forward. When I took a good hard look at who the beneficiaries of my help have traditionally been, I realized that nearly all of them have been white. My new goal is this — for every white person that I give free advice to, or broker connections for, I will do the same for a person of color.
2. As a business owner, I will work hard to find people from diverse backgrounds and different races to fill positions on our team as we grow.
3. I will look for opportunities to give financial resources to those in need and/or invest in the things they need to be successful in earning a living. Trevor Noah, author of Born a Crime (GREAT book!), credits a white kid for changing his life when the kid gave him a CD burner in high school. He said it was a critical turning point for him to be able to earn money. The CD burner was a tool he would not have otherwise been able to afford. He says that while we all love the expression “teach a man to fish”, the problem is that “the man first needs a fishing pole”. As white people we are often given the metaphorical fishing pole (the college education, help with the down payment on a house, a bike or car to get to work, money or basic tools required to get started, love & encouragement to pursue our goals, etc). These are things we often take for granted. Then when we succeed, we attribute our success to our own hard work, forgetting how much was primed for us. As I live out the remainder of my life, I will look for ways to furbish the fishing pole.
4. I will make sure that my kids grow up with an awareness of the tailwind at their back & a sense of responsibility for leveling the playing field for those less fortunate.
5. Lastly, since I desperately miss interacting with people from different cultures, religions, races, and countries…I am going to make an effort to make friends with all kinds of different people — right here in the USA. Our BBQ’s are awfully white and I would like to change that.

My hope is that this article will inspire you to own your privilege and do something good with it. Enough talk. Let’s act. I would love to hear your ideas, thoughts, and the actions you’ve taken (or plan to take) to help level the playing field.

A fair and equal world is a better world for all of us. Archbishop Desmond Tutu, who was instrumental in facilitating reconciliation between victims and perpetrators of Apartheid, talks about the concept of Ubuntu in his book No Future Without Forgiveness. He says, “Ubuntu means that my humanity is wrapped up in your humanity. If you listen closely you can almost hear God rubbing his hands together in glee…saying, ‘you have gifts that I do not have. I have gifts that you do not have. You were meant for each other’.”

Mitch Shepard is a mother, wife, passionate world traveler, and executive leader. As the CEO & Chief Truth-Teller at HUMiN inc, Mitch has spent nearly 20 years coaching & training some of the worlds top leaders. Her specialties are leader/manager effectiveness and inclusion. Visit www.humininc.com to learn more and join our mailing list.