Confronting Privilege, Awkwardly
Feb. 16th, 2010 12:47 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
alexandraerinFor tonight's soapboxing, I'm going to start by linking to an excellent post by Fred Clark, AKA Slacktivist, in which he quotes and discusses the following maxim by Abraham Joshua Heschel:
Clark uses this bit of philosophy in discussion of climate change*, but it's elegantly applicable to the ongoing attempts to discuss privilege and power and systematic oppression in our society. When we talk about privilege, it's not uncommon for those who enjoy that privilege to get defensive, to think that they are being attacked, that they're being blamed, that they're having guilt thrown at them.
Some of this can perhaps be chalked up to the idea that people who are privileged fear losing that privilege and thus it is to their advantage to deny it's a bad thing or that they even have it in the first place. This is a fairly common interpretation of the phenomenon, I believe.
However, I don't think it's a sufficient explanation... it's an appealing one, but the nature of privilege... especially implicit privilege enjoyed by a majority... is to be invisible to the ones who enjoy it. Privilege takes many shapes, many of them subtle and many of them small, at least to the people who've never had to do without them.
No, I think it's true that this defensiveness protects and reinforces privilege... I think, in a "memetic evolution" sense that this is the purpose of the behavior, but within an individual, it's not a matter of nefarious mustache twirling and going, "Oh ho, they're on to me and my privilege! I'd best dazzle them with a bit of conversational skullduggery by denying I have any in the first place!"
It's more like, "Oh, shit... they're talking about ME here. But my life is hard. I have problems. And I'm not racist/sexist/ableist. How can I have privilege if my life is hard? How can I oppress if I don't hate? They're acting like I'm the bad guy! I'm not the bad guy!"
But privilege isn't something one is guilty of. It's not something anybody asks for and it's not something that any one person creates. It is something that we all may act on in various ways, especially (though not exclusively!) before we're aware that we possess it. And we are responsible for our actions, and it is our actions in the aggregate that create and reinforce the system that privileges us and oppresses others.
Few are guilty, all are responsible.
Privilege is not a crime, it's not sought, it's not simple, and it's not obvious. It's also not a good thing, for society (if we define society to mean all of us) and for other people. Because it's not obvious and it's not good (even if it's not a crime), there will always be a tendency to downplay one's own privilege.
Now, nobody can make you confront your own privilege. Nobody can make you do anything about it. This is part of the magic of being privileged. But if you're not interested in working through your own privilege, the least you can do is to not jump into conversations where people are talking about it to announce how completely unprivileged you think you are or to demand that people stop trying to make you feel guilty.
Guilt is not a tremendously useful thing. Unless you have some unconfessed-to crime burdening your soul, your guilt is not going to accomplish anything for anybody. Really. Nobody's trying to make you feel guilty. That might happen as a side effect when you become aware of your privilege, particularly if you realize that you have been taking part in racist behavior, or sexist behavior, or ableist behavior, or so on... but I guarantee you, the people whose talk is "making" you feel guilty... if they had the choice between you continuing to feel guilty or you learning something and not doing the thing which you're feeling guilty about anymore, they'd choose the latter.
That's the point.
It's not like we folks who talk about privilege don't have our own and it's not like we possess some sort of perfect awareness of it that lets us go through life doing no harm. I could sit here and list off the ways in which I am underprivileged and oppressed... really, it's not a short list.
But I'm also white. I have five functioning senses and four functioning limbs. I benefited from male privilege growing up. I had a middle class upbringing and the education that goes with it, at a good public school in a place with little crime. I'm literate. I speak English as a first language in the middle of the United States of America. These things? They are all ways in which I'm privileged.
Now, it's one thing to say that I belong to a category--like white, or trans, or whatever--and say that I experience privilege or oppression because of it, and another thing to identify some specifics. You can see this in almost any discussion of privilege: I'm white, but nobody ever gave me anything. My life's been hard. I worked for what I have. I never got a hand up.
Okay. Well, I don't know you, so I'm going to talk about Kevin Smith for a minute. He's been in the news so he's in my mind.
Kevin Smith is as much of a "self-made man" as you're going to find in Hollywood. He hocked his shit to make his first feature length film himself, using his friends and filming on location in a store after hours, and through the success of that he broke into the scene and got movie deals and made cartoons and comics and all. Nobody can say he didn't work for what he has.
But imagine his life's trajectory if we changed one thing about him. Make him a woman. Make him a trans man. Make him openly gay. Make him Hispanic. Make him blind. Make him paraplegic. Not all of those things. Just pick one. Do you think that working just as hard as he did, making the same moves, he would have gotten just as far? All it takes is one person who doesn't take him seriously, one opportunity that's not open to him, one perception of him by a key other player in his fate that changes as a result of this change in identity... just one changed reaction, at any stage in his life.
Do you think it's likely that at least one person who took a chance on Kevin Smith, able-bodied white dude, might not have done the same if he'd been... OTHER?
Privilege.
You can look at your own life, through that lens. Even if you can't see anything that was explicitly given to you because you're white or male or whatever, chances are that if you are a member of such a privileged class then at the very least you have been given slack that you wouldn't have otherwise been given, that you have been given a pass when somebody else would have been slapped down or called out or held back. Chances are you get away with things that you don't even think about as "getting away with" because it just seems so right and natural to you.
I'm going to talk about one thing... one little thing... that I can get away with. One piece of my privilege.
Heck, I won't just talk about it.
I'll show you:
I have a boyfriend.
No, having a boyfriend isn't a privilege. What I just did is an exercise of privilege. And what did I do?
I said I have a boyfriend.
Now this is my Livejournal and I can say what I want here, but I could go and say those words just about anywhere. I can do this without thinking about it.
Online or anywhere that I can be secure in my ability to present myself as and be accepted as a woman, I can say "I have a boyfriend"... or mention my partner by name or gender-specific pronoun... without stopping to think about what kind of space I'm in and what sorts of folks it might be friendly to.
I will not be challenged seriously by anyone as a result of this revelation. If anybody decides to make an issue of it, society does not sanction their actions.
This, folks, is privilege.
No, seriously.
It is.
Being able to say... casually, without a second thought... that you're in a relationship with the person whom you are in a relationship is privilege.
It's something that society protects the right of some people to do while restricting the ability of others.
If I had a girlfriend instead (and I have had girlfriends), not only would I have to think about that sort of thing more often but I would have to be on my guard. Even if I wasn't going around volunteering the information I would have to stop and think whenever somebody asked me if I was seeing somebody, in the ways such questions are most often phrased to women ("Do you have a boyfriend?")
If I had a boyfriend while presenting myself as male (this has also happened, briefly), I would have to be even more careful how and where I let that information be known. I would have to think about it more. I could live in San Francisco, in Seattle, in any of the cities we think of as being "progressive" and "diverse" and if I went out around town at all I would still not be able to forget what it meant to be a man involved romantically with another man.
Queer folk get attacked on the West Coast, too. I swear to God they do. We are everywhere, and everywhere is dangerous.
But, insofar as I'm in a heterosexual relationship, I am privileged... I don't have to stop and think before I talk about my partner. I can be open about that element of my life without implicitly "outting" myself to everybody around me.
This isn't to say that bisexuals and pansexuals don't get shit. It's certainly not to suggest that I don't have to be mindful of anything when I go out and about town, as a trans woman. But in this respect, I'm privileged.
This privilege doesn't give me free parking anywhere. It doesn't give me vouchers good for a free dessert with purchase of entree. It doesn't make me the queen of all creation.
What does it do for me?
It lets me say "I have a boyfriend." A little thing? Sure, to those of us who can doit. It gives me an answer I know is safe and socially acceptable when somebody asks me "Hey, are you seeing anyone?" I don't have to know the person's politics. I don't have to guess at their prejudices. I can say, "Yes, actually, I have a boyfriend. His name is Jack."
Other people who have this privilege might argue that it's not a big deal. This might go in a couple different ways.
One way I've heard comes from people saying that the only reason people get gay bashed is if they "flaunt it" and that there's no reason for anybody we encounter to know if we're gay or straight or bi or whatever. But this ignores the fact that a person's relationship status is treated as a public feature of them, something anybody can ask about without feeling embarrassed. Society as a whole doesn't regard questions about relationship status as intrusive. Without being asked, people "flaunt" their relationships regularly, through jewelry they wear and photographs they display and simply engaging in small talk about what's going on in their lives. Those who never talk about dates or significant others are in small ways othered... assumptions may be made, questions may be asked, so that the anomalous person may be filed appropriately
The other way goes something like this: Who cares who knows if you're gay? I don't care who knows I'm straight. I don't care if you're gay. Nobody I know cares if you're gay. No decent thinking person could care in this day and age. I see gay people walking around openly gay all the time. So what's the big deal? You can't go around being afraid your whole life! The problem with this is that it's rooted in your own perspective, your own experience. When you see people walking around, you don't know what they're thinking... you don't know what they do or don't worry about.
Privilege. I can say "I have a boyfriend." I can acknowledge my partner in a public setting without ever thinking about it, practically.
You still might not think that it's a big deal. Your reaction might be "Okay I guess that kind of sucks if some people feel like they can't talk about their relationships, but what are the real consequences?"
The real consequences are that you can't participate fully in certain conversations, you can't feel at ease at your workplace or in certain public settings... in short, you cannot fully participate in society.
I'm going to repeat that with HTML formatting because it really deserves emphasis: You cannot fully participate in society.
Someone's probably reading this and thinking I'm saying that single people can't fully participate in society, either, then. Well, since our society does prize people who form what we think of as "stable" relationships and families over those who don't... yeah, actually, but that's beside the point.
Single persons can say, "No, not right now." when asked if they're seeing someone. The "stigma" of being single isn't even approximately equivalent to what gay people experience.
Those who are might get pressure to "pair up" from some directions, but nobody ever gets beaten or murdered for letting slip that they're single, and other single people aren't then collectively traumatized when the courts entertain a defense of "I found out he was single and I just panicked!" as if the murder were an unfortunate but understandable reaction.
Of course, if I start filling in details like he has another girlfriend and it's consensual all-around, or any of the other ways in which our relationship breaks from the accepted mold, I do have to start thinking about where I am and who I'm talking to a little bit, but not at anywhere near the same level that I would have to worry if I were a man talking about my boyfriend. Poly folk and kinky folk are hardly embraced by society at large, but there's nothing like the systemic oppression directed at gay men.
The only thing in my particular basket of eggshells that I have to walk on that is on that level is our respective gender histories. Because as soon as people know about that, we're dealing with transphobia and the crossover with homophobia from people who don't know or care about the difference. And that is something that could one day cause a lot of trouble for us, if we weren't thinking about it at the wrong time.
There's privilege I have.
There's privilege I lack.
Being able to discuss my relationship status in the same terms that the rest of the world gets to is not the biggest piece of privilege I have and it's far from the most consequential. So why did I use it as an example? Because I feel that pointing out something so "small" and so easy to overlook is a useful exercise.
"White privilege" doesn't mean we get to go to the front of every line and it doesn't mean we get a basket full of money when we're born, after all. Most often it's expressed in "little things"... or rather, things that don't loom large in the consciousness of those of us who possess it.
*The Conversations We're Not Having Here: Global warming/climate change debates.
"Few are guilty; all are responsible."
Clark uses this bit of philosophy in discussion of climate change*, but it's elegantly applicable to the ongoing attempts to discuss privilege and power and systematic oppression in our society. When we talk about privilege, it's not uncommon for those who enjoy that privilege to get defensive, to think that they are being attacked, that they're being blamed, that they're having guilt thrown at them.
Some of this can perhaps be chalked up to the idea that people who are privileged fear losing that privilege and thus it is to their advantage to deny it's a bad thing or that they even have it in the first place. This is a fairly common interpretation of the phenomenon, I believe.
However, I don't think it's a sufficient explanation... it's an appealing one, but the nature of privilege... especially implicit privilege enjoyed by a majority... is to be invisible to the ones who enjoy it. Privilege takes many shapes, many of them subtle and many of them small, at least to the people who've never had to do without them.
No, I think it's true that this defensiveness protects and reinforces privilege... I think, in a "memetic evolution" sense that this is the purpose of the behavior, but within an individual, it's not a matter of nefarious mustache twirling and going, "Oh ho, they're on to me and my privilege! I'd best dazzle them with a bit of conversational skullduggery by denying I have any in the first place!"
It's more like, "Oh, shit... they're talking about ME here. But my life is hard. I have problems. And I'm not racist/sexist/ableist. How can I have privilege if my life is hard? How can I oppress if I don't hate? They're acting like I'm the bad guy! I'm not the bad guy!"
But privilege isn't something one is guilty of. It's not something anybody asks for and it's not something that any one person creates. It is something that we all may act on in various ways, especially (though not exclusively!) before we're aware that we possess it. And we are responsible for our actions, and it is our actions in the aggregate that create and reinforce the system that privileges us and oppresses others.
Few are guilty, all are responsible.
Privilege is not a crime, it's not sought, it's not simple, and it's not obvious. It's also not a good thing, for society (if we define society to mean all of us) and for other people. Because it's not obvious and it's not good (even if it's not a crime), there will always be a tendency to downplay one's own privilege.
Now, nobody can make you confront your own privilege. Nobody can make you do anything about it. This is part of the magic of being privileged. But if you're not interested in working through your own privilege, the least you can do is to not jump into conversations where people are talking about it to announce how completely unprivileged you think you are or to demand that people stop trying to make you feel guilty.
Guilt is not a tremendously useful thing. Unless you have some unconfessed-to crime burdening your soul, your guilt is not going to accomplish anything for anybody. Really. Nobody's trying to make you feel guilty. That might happen as a side effect when you become aware of your privilege, particularly if you realize that you have been taking part in racist behavior, or sexist behavior, or ableist behavior, or so on... but I guarantee you, the people whose talk is "making" you feel guilty... if they had the choice between you continuing to feel guilty or you learning something and not doing the thing which you're feeling guilty about anymore, they'd choose the latter.
That's the point.
It's not like we folks who talk about privilege don't have our own and it's not like we possess some sort of perfect awareness of it that lets us go through life doing no harm. I could sit here and list off the ways in which I am underprivileged and oppressed... really, it's not a short list.
But I'm also white. I have five functioning senses and four functioning limbs. I benefited from male privilege growing up. I had a middle class upbringing and the education that goes with it, at a good public school in a place with little crime. I'm literate. I speak English as a first language in the middle of the United States of America. These things? They are all ways in which I'm privileged.
Now, it's one thing to say that I belong to a category--like white, or trans, or whatever--and say that I experience privilege or oppression because of it, and another thing to identify some specifics. You can see this in almost any discussion of privilege: I'm white, but nobody ever gave me anything. My life's been hard. I worked for what I have. I never got a hand up.
Okay. Well, I don't know you, so I'm going to talk about Kevin Smith for a minute. He's been in the news so he's in my mind.
Kevin Smith is as much of a "self-made man" as you're going to find in Hollywood. He hocked his shit to make his first feature length film himself, using his friends and filming on location in a store after hours, and through the success of that he broke into the scene and got movie deals and made cartoons and comics and all. Nobody can say he didn't work for what he has.
But imagine his life's trajectory if we changed one thing about him. Make him a woman. Make him a trans man. Make him openly gay. Make him Hispanic. Make him blind. Make him paraplegic. Not all of those things. Just pick one. Do you think that working just as hard as he did, making the same moves, he would have gotten just as far? All it takes is one person who doesn't take him seriously, one opportunity that's not open to him, one perception of him by a key other player in his fate that changes as a result of this change in identity... just one changed reaction, at any stage in his life.
Do you think it's likely that at least one person who took a chance on Kevin Smith, able-bodied white dude, might not have done the same if he'd been... OTHER?
Privilege.
You can look at your own life, through that lens. Even if you can't see anything that was explicitly given to you because you're white or male or whatever, chances are that if you are a member of such a privileged class then at the very least you have been given slack that you wouldn't have otherwise been given, that you have been given a pass when somebody else would have been slapped down or called out or held back. Chances are you get away with things that you don't even think about as "getting away with" because it just seems so right and natural to you.
I'm going to talk about one thing... one little thing... that I can get away with. One piece of my privilege.
Heck, I won't just talk about it.
I'll show you:
I have a boyfriend.
No, having a boyfriend isn't a privilege. What I just did is an exercise of privilege. And what did I do?
I said I have a boyfriend.
Now this is my Livejournal and I can say what I want here, but I could go and say those words just about anywhere. I can do this without thinking about it.
Online or anywhere that I can be secure in my ability to present myself as and be accepted as a woman, I can say "I have a boyfriend"... or mention my partner by name or gender-specific pronoun... without stopping to think about what kind of space I'm in and what sorts of folks it might be friendly to.
I will not be challenged seriously by anyone as a result of this revelation. If anybody decides to make an issue of it, society does not sanction their actions.
This, folks, is privilege.
No, seriously.
It is.
Being able to say... casually, without a second thought... that you're in a relationship with the person whom you are in a relationship is privilege.
It's something that society protects the right of some people to do while restricting the ability of others.
If I had a girlfriend instead (and I have had girlfriends), not only would I have to think about that sort of thing more often but I would have to be on my guard. Even if I wasn't going around volunteering the information I would have to stop and think whenever somebody asked me if I was seeing somebody, in the ways such questions are most often phrased to women ("Do you have a boyfriend?")
If I had a boyfriend while presenting myself as male (this has also happened, briefly), I would have to be even more careful how and where I let that information be known. I would have to think about it more. I could live in San Francisco, in Seattle, in any of the cities we think of as being "progressive" and "diverse" and if I went out around town at all I would still not be able to forget what it meant to be a man involved romantically with another man.
Queer folk get attacked on the West Coast, too. I swear to God they do. We are everywhere, and everywhere is dangerous.
But, insofar as I'm in a heterosexual relationship, I am privileged... I don't have to stop and think before I talk about my partner. I can be open about that element of my life without implicitly "outting" myself to everybody around me.
This isn't to say that bisexuals and pansexuals don't get shit. It's certainly not to suggest that I don't have to be mindful of anything when I go out and about town, as a trans woman. But in this respect, I'm privileged.
This privilege doesn't give me free parking anywhere. It doesn't give me vouchers good for a free dessert with purchase of entree. It doesn't make me the queen of all creation.
What does it do for me?
It lets me say "I have a boyfriend." A little thing? Sure, to those of us who can doit. It gives me an answer I know is safe and socially acceptable when somebody asks me "Hey, are you seeing anyone?" I don't have to know the person's politics. I don't have to guess at their prejudices. I can say, "Yes, actually, I have a boyfriend. His name is Jack."
Other people who have this privilege might argue that it's not a big deal. This might go in a couple different ways.
One way I've heard comes from people saying that the only reason people get gay bashed is if they "flaunt it" and that there's no reason for anybody we encounter to know if we're gay or straight or bi or whatever. But this ignores the fact that a person's relationship status is treated as a public feature of them, something anybody can ask about without feeling embarrassed. Society as a whole doesn't regard questions about relationship status as intrusive. Without being asked, people "flaunt" their relationships regularly, through jewelry they wear and photographs they display and simply engaging in small talk about what's going on in their lives. Those who never talk about dates or significant others are in small ways othered... assumptions may be made, questions may be asked, so that the anomalous person may be filed appropriately
The other way goes something like this: Who cares who knows if you're gay? I don't care who knows I'm straight. I don't care if you're gay. Nobody I know cares if you're gay. No decent thinking person could care in this day and age. I see gay people walking around openly gay all the time. So what's the big deal? You can't go around being afraid your whole life! The problem with this is that it's rooted in your own perspective, your own experience. When you see people walking around, you don't know what they're thinking... you don't know what they do or don't worry about.
Privilege. I can say "I have a boyfriend." I can acknowledge my partner in a public setting without ever thinking about it, practically.
You still might not think that it's a big deal. Your reaction might be "Okay I guess that kind of sucks if some people feel like they can't talk about their relationships, but what are the real consequences?"
The real consequences are that you can't participate fully in certain conversations, you can't feel at ease at your workplace or in certain public settings... in short, you cannot fully participate in society.
I'm going to repeat that with HTML formatting because it really deserves emphasis: You cannot fully participate in society.
Someone's probably reading this and thinking I'm saying that single people can't fully participate in society, either, then. Well, since our society does prize people who form what we think of as "stable" relationships and families over those who don't... yeah, actually, but that's beside the point.
Single persons can say, "No, not right now." when asked if they're seeing someone. The "stigma" of being single isn't even approximately equivalent to what gay people experience.
Those who are might get pressure to "pair up" from some directions, but nobody ever gets beaten or murdered for letting slip that they're single, and other single people aren't then collectively traumatized when the courts entertain a defense of "I found out he was single and I just panicked!" as if the murder were an unfortunate but understandable reaction.
Of course, if I start filling in details like he has another girlfriend and it's consensual all-around, or any of the other ways in which our relationship breaks from the accepted mold, I do have to start thinking about where I am and who I'm talking to a little bit, but not at anywhere near the same level that I would have to worry if I were a man talking about my boyfriend. Poly folk and kinky folk are hardly embraced by society at large, but there's nothing like the systemic oppression directed at gay men.
The only thing in my particular basket of eggshells that I have to walk on that is on that level is our respective gender histories. Because as soon as people know about that, we're dealing with transphobia and the crossover with homophobia from people who don't know or care about the difference. And that is something that could one day cause a lot of trouble for us, if we weren't thinking about it at the wrong time.
There's privilege I have.
There's privilege I lack.
Being able to discuss my relationship status in the same terms that the rest of the world gets to is not the biggest piece of privilege I have and it's far from the most consequential. So why did I use it as an example? Because I feel that pointing out something so "small" and so easy to overlook is a useful exercise.
"White privilege" doesn't mean we get to go to the front of every line and it doesn't mean we get a basket full of money when we're born, after all. Most often it's expressed in "little things"... or rather, things that don't loom large in the consciousness of those of us who possess it.
*The Conversations We're Not Having Here: Global warming/climate change debates.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
on 2010-02-16 07:37 am (UTC)This is an excellent essay; you have a remarkable talent for stating these things clearly.
no subject
on 2010-02-16 07:39 am (UTC)no subject
on 2010-02-16 09:53 am (UTC)no subject
on 2010-02-16 02:17 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2010-02-16 03:52 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2010-02-16 06:56 pm (UTC)I realise I haven't explained this very well, so I'll give an example from my own experience - although a white heterosexual male myself (so triply priviliged) I have faced problems from certain members of my family on a few occasions merely due to the fact I have friends in same-sex relationships or marriages, and am seen as lesser for it.
no subject
on 2010-02-19 01:25 am (UTC)no subject
on 2010-02-17 09:52 am (UTC)A very interesting and thoughtful post overall, but this bit stuck out at me and I was curious as to your feelings as to the "why" of it. I wonder if it's because poly and kink aren't as loud/known to the general population as gay men are, but as they become more outspoken they'll face that oppression? Or if it's that it doesn't represent a threat to one's masculinity in the same way some people think homosexuality does, or if it's because the bible (to my knowledge) doesn't say anything that could be interpreted as condemnation as these acts... Or is it something else entirely?
I'm sorry if these seem like really dumb or obvious questions to you, I just hadn't thought about that specific point before.
(Also hi, I'm not sure if we've been introduced, but I'm a ToMU reader who wanders over here from time to time. *waves* I hope that's okay!)
no subject
on 2010-02-17 02:11 pm (UTC)This doesn't mean that society is full of hugs and puppies for the kinky and the polyamorous. There are contexts where, having identified that it's relatively safe to be open about my gender identity and sexuality, I'm not comfortable divulging my kinks or my relationship structure. They still represent coloring outside the lines of heteronormativity and so there are still backlashes directed at people, though it's less organized and less visceral.
People have lost their jobs for being outed as being involved in BDSM or unconventional relationship structures, and had it held against them in things like child custody hearings, but far fewer people (likely approaching zero) are beaten or killed for those things.
A BDSM-oriented couple is mostly going to have people reacting to them by whether they're same-sex or mixed and their gender presentation.
no subject
on 2010-02-19 01:03 am (UTC)Being able to say... casually, without a second thought... that you're in a relationship with the person whom you are in a relationship is privilege.
I think this is where I get hung up. To me "privilege" is something special that I have that (the proverbial) you don't, that by rights you should take away from me to level the playing field. Thus "a right" is something that maybe not everyone has, but to level the playing field everyone should have.
And so, to speak casually of a relationship is IMHO a right. To be seriously considered for a job no matter how you look is a right (and one I miss--here in Asia it's common practice to put a photo on a resume, and no one has given me a legitimate reason for that). So to tell me I have "privilege", I hear that as "I want to take away what you take for granted" and since some of those I'd rather we all had...of course I get defensive.
Language matters. Am I making sense?
no subject
on 2010-02-19 01:16 am (UTC)And sure language matters. And if we say "right", then because we used that word then people who are bigger assholes than you say "It's a free country! You have the right to say what you want to! The law will protect you if you say it and punish anybody who hurts you for it!"
See, this is one reason why we need a separate word to cover privilege. It covers the actual dynamics of society. In a feudal society with literal classes/castes, privilege is explicit... it literally means "private law", i.e., one law for the royalty, one law for the nobles, one law for the freemen, one law for the serfs.
In our society, privilege is more implicit, and whether you look at it as "something extra that you have" or "something that everybody else lacks" is a matter of perspective. And you know what? Quibbling over which perspective to take is a luxury of the people who are above those below.
It's like arguing whether you're five feet higher or they're five feet lower when flood waters are coming in... maybe you have the time and inclination to pursue the fine distinction as an intellectual matter, but they don't.
It's a privileged perspective, in other words.
Obviously whether the solution is to raise everybody else up five feet or lower the people who are above down five feet is going to depend on what the hell we're talking about.
Is there any way it makes any kind of sense to think that anyone who calls this example of relationship status "privilege" is agitating to make everyone else shut up about their relationships?" Any way?
If there isn't then your objection sounds awfully disingenuous.
I mean, let's look at what you're saying here. How much does language matter to you? You're saying you get "hung up" and "defensive" when people use the word privilege because you feel like somebody's taking something away from you.
Do you act on these feelings? Does it change how you view people who are fighting for their rights, based on the word they choose to describe their plight? Does it alter your willingness to support them.
If so, then the people I described above as being "bigger assholes" are still bigger assholes than you... but... yeah. How does that not make you an asshole?