Checking my privilege as a mixed race woman
This is a different post, than my usual allergy blogs, but it is just as much a part of me as my allergies are. It is not a trendy topic, or a moment in history, this has been going on for too many generations and we need to speak openly to make a change. I want to check my privilege so you can feel it is safe for you to do so as well. Advocacy is not just for social media, it is for your real life. Stand up, speak out and fight for the rights of others, just like you would for allergies. It's not a black or white matter, it is a human matter - we can never be free unless everybody is too.
Check, one, two…
“Privilege is an advantage, or immunity granted or available only to a particular person or group.”
You might look at me and think I don’t have certain privileges. You would see me and say that I look like the people on the news, the people getting murdered - hunted. You may look at me and see your bias, prejudice and make presumptions about my life and experiences. You probably would be wrong. Privilege is about circumstances, experiences, nurture. Would you look at me and immediately think that I have been given everything I have ever wanted? Well, I have. I have had a charmed life. That is not to say that I haven’t had hard times, faced adversity or setbacks. I have, maybe more than most, and less than others. However, my privilege comes from the fact that when those events happen, I know I will be able to get through it because I am supported. I have advantages because of the circumstances I was born with.
I am mixed race. On the outside you see black, but I have the privilege of being mixed race. You hear white privilege all the time, but have you heard about mixed privilege? Probably not, because I think I just made that up, but it’s what I have.
My Dad was from South Africa, he escaped the horrific apartheid regime and escaped to the United Kingdom via Switzerland. He did a degree in social work, he was a playwright, director, actor and extremely black. He found life hard. He found loving his family hard. I don’t know exactly how being black affected him, but I know that he wanted the best out of all his children, and wanted nothing more than for us to have a better life than he did. I wish he could have known me now, we would have so much to talk about. My mum says I remind her of him a lot. Creative, funny, over-thinker, passionate. He had demons, just like all of us, but sometimes those demons get in the way of being grateful for the world around you. I am reminded of him every day when I look in the mirror. He gave me this skin, these eyes, my sense of rhythm, he will always be a part of me. I didn’t get taught what it was like to be black, I didn’t see the racial injustices of him living as a black man. I was never prepared for the racism that infects the world. I am grateful for that in many ways.
My Mama is from the United Kingdom and Ireland. My mother also gave me this skin, but you would need to look really close to see it. My skin is dark, it isn’t tanned, but there is white in it. I can see it in my nurture, my thoughts, the way I hold myself, my likes and dislikes. I know I am white because of my privilege. Inside I know myself but on the outside, nobody can see it. My skin is in opposition to society. The world isn’t black or white but the race war is. I grew up looking at my mother, my family and I saw white. I grew up knowing that the world is tough on people who look like me, but I didn’t suffer the same fate. I had privilege because I didn’t face the issues I saw on the news. I didn’t get the talk that ”you have to work 10 times harder” when I was a child. I talked about race like it didn’t affect me. I said things like “I know it is out there, but I don’t experience it.” I was uneducated in the subtle microaggressions people used towards me. My mum wasn’t, but I was.
On one occasion, when I was in primary school, the teacher asked us to do a big group project on the causes of conflict in our society; I chose race discrimination. I was very excited about it, I wanted to teach my classmates about it and I thought it would be such an interesting topic. However, My teacher didn’t think so. She made it quite clear that race was not a cause of conflict anymore, that time had passed, so I was told I had to pick another topic. I didn’t understand what that was, until now. Being me, I didn’t pick another one. I stuck to what I believed in, stood up for myself and I was joined by others in my class who wanted to learn and the project was a great success. I see now how subtle racism goes undetected. You don’t see it unless you know and it is directed at you.
I laughed when my friends called me an Oreo, or when they said they were blacker than me because they liked hip hop and I liked Britney Spears (still do). It was mainstream to be racist on the sly back then, no one knew better. It was on the television shows, in films, the music we listened to, everything. It was normal for me to laugh at my skin colour. I didn’t understand why I had to have Black pride. I wasn’t black… I was mixed.
I say this because I want you to understand that if I can grow up like this, none the wiser, then it is understandable if you did as well. I had so many blind spots, but those blind spots helped me be the woman I am today. However, even if they didn’t hold me back, they weren’t helpful. They weren’t helpful to me or the people making those subtle comments. It wasn’t just my privilege in my skin colour but also being a woman. Black never held me back, and neither did being a woman. Feminism was the code word in my house. My mum had protested for equal rights when she was my age. I watched my mother stand up for what she believed in and rise to the top in her field, bringing home a PhD in nuclear physics (a job that was only for men when she was a little girl) and an honorary doctorate in law. I never thought I would have any difficulties being a woman or black with her by my side. I saw a model of working hard for your goals and continuing to do so even if people tried to get in your way.
My privilege took me through private schools, living in amazing parts of the world, and never worrying financial means, going to drama school, paying rent or finding a job. I am glad I, nor my employers, friends, strangers let my skin or my femininity get in the way of me becoming who I am. However, whilst that’s all well and good, I am older now, we as a society are wiser (some parts of society) and if I want to keep growing I need to keep learning. I cannot pass off my privilege as negligence anymore. Yes, I am not the norm but the norm is hurting yet again. The people who look like me are being hunted, and we said we would never let anyone hunt our human race again, so we all need to stand and fight!
Times have gotten better, but so has much of our civilisation - take a look at allergies. I used to be thrown out of restaurants because of my allergies and now I can enjoy a meal out. But, does that mean we stop fighting, stop educating, stop wanting change? NO. We keep fighting until everything is equal until all of our voices are heard. The people who marched in the ’60s didn’t just march for them, they marched so I could live a life of privilege and everybody has that right, no matter who they are! So we continue the march, not for us, but the next generation.
I am checking my privilege today, and every day from now. I hope you will all join me in the fight against demolishing our prejudices. We have a lot to learn, why not start now?
Where do you go?
Where do you hide, when the people who are meant to protect you, hurt you?
Where is safe when the people who are supposed to look after you, hunt you?
When people can’t help, standing on the sidelines because they are afraid for their own lives, who is going to help you?
What happens when you worked hard for a happy life, and people say you don’t deserve it?
What happens when the 100th run you took on your street, is your last?
Who is going to hear you, when you say “I can’t breathe”?
Why do you need protection, when you are just bird watching?
We think things are better.
Time has moved on, but have they?
History repeats itself, it just takes on a different form.
Nothing will change unless we change.
Don’t make the same mistakes again.
Don’t teach us to hide, teach them not to hunt.
- Lindiwe