A Few Words About White Privilege

Yeah... That old kick dog topic - white privilege, I'd like to say a few things about what it entails.

Obviously there is a certain privilege that comes with being white and middle class- it could be argued that much of that is really class privilege- but I don't have the patience nor the academic chops to try to untangle class and race in terms of who gets screwed more in which society. Suffice to say that gender, race and religion are all used as gradients of power whenever numbers or capital are distributed unevenly in a society.  (Read: All the time.)  There are plenty of statistically sound examples of how this gradient difference exists in our society. Examples include a study that demonstrated that white sounding names will consistently get more call backs than black sounding names when placed on the top of identical resumes.

Ok- enough disclaimer.

What I want to talk about is the wonderful baggage that comes with white privilege.
What do I mean?
Well, for example, as a white man working in a blue collar trade I have quite a few advantages, the utilities sector in particular is an old boys club if there ever was one. It is extraordinarily white.
Redneck white.

Oh I know- that's a slur. However I have worked in several trades and the utilities field is by far the most rife with racism, misogyny and homophobia.

So I get to enjoy an easier entry into this field because of my skin color- however, if I react 'inappropriately' to any racist remarks or classically macho misogyist bullshit then I run the risk of being ostracized and pushed out.
There is no real HR in this field. They ask you your age up front. If your boss threatens to kill you or smacks you in the field- deal with it. That's life.
In the blue collar world life is tough, and there is no room for liberal weakness...
Or so the ethos seems to me here in the tradesmans' world.

In closing, my point is that while I enjoy white privilege, I often find myself facing a lay off or looking for work elsewhere because I don't play along.
I lose some of my privilege because I am not racist.
How awesome is that.

Dear Seattle,
You smell like weed.
Everywhere.
Every ten minutes.
It seems like no matter where you are, indoors or out, you run the risk of getting a contact high. I no longer partake, in fact it has been so long for me that I can remember when pot still had those acrid little seeds hiding inside the buds. Nevertheless, the constant whiff of competing strains of herb lifts me up every few minutes with waves of nostalgia that originate in a steamy haystack of memories piled blearily in my youth.
As a resident of a less green and more red land far from the shores of your fair and aromatic city I wanted to say-
Thank you.