It's my privilege

Luke 11:53-54 As he said these things to them, the scribes and the Pharisees began to be terribly angry, and to draw many things out of him; lying in wait for him, and seeking to catch him in something he might say, that they might accuse him.

Naturally, I bristle whenever anyone suggests I might be the beneficiary of some "privilege." I've been able to provide for a family, do my part to put three kids through college, afford a nice home, cars and occasional vacations. But I did what I was brought up to do - go to school, study hard, take responsibility, get a job - not unlike other members of my family, my friends, neighbors. And you would normally make those assumptions about me. My dress, home, cars . . . all speak to a good middle class life.

So you can imagine my annoyance last September when I got pulled over in a neighboring town for speeding. Oh, this cop did not fool me - I knew as soon as I saw his unmarked car he was coming for me. I knew I was speeding, and in truth, was annoyed with myself because there was no need - I was on time to work. So I pulled over and waited for him to catch up with me.

Let's be contrite, I said to myself. Reached into the glove compartment for registration, proof of insurance; into my wallet for my license. Uh-oh.

"No worries." I'm clearly a law-abiding citizen on his way to work, willing to accept responsibility. He'll see I'm a well-dressed, clean-cut, professional driving a late-model car that certainly looks like it "belongs" in this upper-middle class neighborhood. And I have a perfectly good excuse for not having my license.  Hell, if he's decent he'll let me off entirely.

"Yes, officer, I know I was speeding. Hey, that road is a steep downhill, it's easy to pick up some speed if you're not paying attention, right?"

"Actually, no, it's not that steep."  No use arguing, I got a bigger problem.

"Driver's license, registration, insurance card please."

"Sure, here you go. Oh, and I took my license out of my wallet yesterday to scan it - it's back on my scanner at home, sorry about that."

Actually, this was true. But hey, he'll definitely cut me slack for that. I'm clearly a law-abiding citizen on his way to work, willing to accept responsibility. He'll see I'm a well-dressed, clean-cut, professional driving a late-model car that "belongs" in this upper-middle class neighborhood. No worries. AND, he'll no doubt notice my (fairly) good driving record.  I got everything going for me that should get me just a warning.

He eventually comes back to my car. WITH A TICKET in-hand. I'm pissed.

How to pay, court date, etc. . . . Oh, and here's a warning for not having your driver's license.

Seems like a nice cop. But I deserved only a warning. Clearly I'm a law-abiding citizen on his way to work, willing to accept responsibility. I'm a well-dressed, clean-cut, professional driving a late-model car that "belongs" in this upper-middle class neighborhood. This really should not be a problem.

If I just roll-up my window without a word, no "Thank you, officer," no "Have a nice day, officer" will he pick-up my "F- YOU" vibe? Gee I certainly hope so.

I don't deserve this. You see, I'm just a law-abiding citizen on his way to work, willing to take responsibility for his actions. I'm a well-dressed, clean-cut, professional driving a nice, clean late-model car that "belongs" in this upper-middle class neighborhood. And my driving record is actually excellent. It's not like I'm . . .

Not like I'm, what? What do I mean by "looking like" a law-abiding citizen? Or "professional"? And what if I am clean-cut, wearing a suit and tie, and my car is nice?  What does this mean?

Who am I comparing myself to? If this did not describe me, if my characterizations were not true, would I deserve any different treatment?

Let's be honest. I expect some privileges. I did what I was brought up to do - go to school, study hard, take responsibility, got a job. Raised a family, give to charities, go to church, do volunteer work. I'm clearly a law-abiding citizen.  You can see by the way I'm well-dressed, clean-cut - a respectful professional driving to work in a late-model car that certainly looks like it "belongs" in this upper-middle class neighborhood.

Hell, I'm even white!

OK, here's the truth. White privilege is the difference between the treatment I expect, and the treatment that someone unlike me - of color, unshaven, poorly dressed, driving an old car in an upper-middle class neighborhood - were to get in similar circumstances. I have expectations that I will be treated in a manner that befits my relative success in life - success that's in plain sight of everyone else to see.  And I have no right to expect, nor should I accept this.

About a month later I was talking to an African-American woman who happens to be a school board member in another town. She told me personal stories that I have always suspected were exaggerations, or misunderstandings. Like how she has had to tell her children to avoid police even if they need help, and to never make sudden moves at a traffic stop that could get them killed. How her black friend insists on taking the shortest way to work through an affluent neighborhood, despite the fact that she is stopped regularly by police and questioned for no apparent reason.

White privilege is the very real space between how I expect to be treated because of how I look, and the treatment that I find acceptable for others to expect because of how they look.

That's my white privilege.