There are a bunch of things I haven’t been writing about because I don’t know what to say. Gamergate, for instance. Ferguson for another. But it’s late, the Grand Jury results came in hours ago, people are in danger, and I can’t sleep. I’m angry. Furious, even. I’m frustrated at all the people saying “Can’t we just work this out?” and worried about all the people taking to the streets tonight because they’ve been paying the price for working things out for longer than anyone deserves. I am angry.
But I am not afraid.
To me, that’s the only difference that matters right now. I’m not unafraid because I’m some brave hero, I’m not afraid because I’m the right colour, I identify as the right gender, nobody can spot my sexuality, and I’m about the right height and build. the prize that I get for these things is that I can be angry, and sad, and frustrated, but I don’t have to be afraid.
I can dress how I want without worrying about catcalls, assault, or police harassment. I can carry what I like, and go where I please. I am afraid of a lot of things, but I get to wander through the world knowing that 99% of them are in my own head. I am not afraid of crime, and I am not afraid of cops, regardless of where I am.
That’s what privilege looks like. It’s the list of things I don’t have to worry about. It’s the list of precautions I don’t have to take, the aggressions I don’t experience, and the fears I don’t have to have. I get to live in a whole different universe from people who experience various intersections of systemic oppression. Sometimes I am glad of that, a thought that makes me feel sick, but I don’t know how I’d handle any universe but the one I have. I don’t know how I’d deal with my parents explaining to me that, no matter how civil I am to cops, they still might shoot me. I can’t envision how I’d deal with the talk about how I have to protect myself at parties, because if someone assaults me, I will be blamed for it.
It’s easy to think I can see into these other universes, in articles, in the news, and in the faces of my friends who live in them. But I can’t. At best I’m a tourist, because I can saunter back to my universe any time I want. If I wanted to live a life free of any knowledge of ongoing racism, sexism, ablism, transphobia, and homophobia, I could. I still meet people who do. That’s the difference. The only way oppressed people get out of it is by fighting for it, every step of the damn way, while people in other universes get to sit around going “Why are you fighting so hard for this thing that we have?”
I am often silent on these matters because I don’t want to speak for people in those universes. I can’t feel their fear, I can only have feelings about it. I can try and make that clear to people in my universe, but that feels like the best I can do. I can be angry, and frustrated, and sad, but I am never afraid. Not for real. And that’s not the worst part.
The worst part is that the universe analogy does not hold up one bit. We do not live in separate universes. We live in the same universe, only oppressed people’s piece of it is made shitty by the actions and inaction of people in my piece. These things persist in no small part because people like me do and say nothing. They persist because people like me do not listen, do not care, and continue to value property over lives and human rights.
I don’t know what to do about this. I know enough to listen, I hope. Maybe even enough to speak up about it when I should, instead of just thinking loudly.
I know that my feeds are full of people whose faces I see in the mirror lamenting that there’s no peace on the streets of America tonight, ignoring the fact that for a lot of people there never was.
