My White Privilege

My lived experiences

There was another kid called Susan in my classes through all of grade school. She was Black. She was one of two Black kids in my high school. I never wondered if that was hard for her or if anyone was racist towards her. I lived in a bubble where racism wasn’t a thing.

The other day, I watched Belonging, the profile of Michelle Obama on her book tour, on Netflix the other day. Watching the young Black women on TV cry when they met her gave me a glimmer of how much she means to Black folks, and women in particular, in the USA. I mean, I am a fan. I don’t understand anyone who doesn’t adore her. She’s a force of nature. In comparison, Hillary Clinton was also a meaningful public figure for me but Clinton looks more like me, and I wasn’t too wound up over the difference in skin colour. I never missed seeing people who looked like me in positions of power. Not enough of them are women, granted. But they were all still white.

If I voice an opinion, nobody ever assumes I’m speaking for my “people.” I never thought they would.

I travelled through North Africa for work on a regular basis for several years. I would often be the only white person on a flight from one country to the other. Usually the women border guards who were there to search the women just waved me through or gave me a very cursory pat down. I often wondered how much damage a white woman from the west could do if recruited by the wrong people.