The Power of (white, pretty, thin, etc.) Privilege.

The Power of (white, pretty, thin, etc.) Privilege.

Various studies have basically proven that prettier people, taller men, or even just the general category “white men,” get more perks, are thinner, live longer, make more money, etc.  For this reason, the other day one of my good friends admitted to me she wants her kids to be beautiful, not growing up in the same messed up world where she was treated poorly for dealing with weight issues.  Completely ignored, even.

Weighty issues, indeed.

In the last week I’ve went into the Apple store 3 times & been treated very poorly.

Things like:

  • Going to the back to call me to see if I lied about my cell phone #.
  • Or, refusing to release Dave’s computer to me without calling him first -though I’m the one who originally purchased it with a business purchasing credit card with my own name on it.
  • Or, refuting proof that I work for InterVarsity, or am a student myself.  It was redonkulous.

In general, they didn’t trust me & believed I was somehow trying to yank their chain by asking for the educators discount & tax exemption for a non-profit, tax-exempt business purchase.

I realized that each time I’ve been in, well, I’ve looked bummy.  Do-rag on my head, no make-up, preggo cargo pants, bummy old worn-out t-shirts, flip-flops & 190 pounds of pregnancy fun.

And if your wondering if I’m making a connection between my bummy-ness & how I was treated…

Abso-toot-tell-lutly.

You see, to put it gently…I’m not used to being treated this way & especially given that on all 3 occasions I was working with about 4 different men who were all giving me a hard time.  I have no doubt in my mind that if I had went there with a crisp white button-down shirt, my black blazer, a nice smooth wash boot-cut jeans, high heels, full make-up with a well done hair style -pretty, yet accessible- they would have treated me differently.

Believe me, I have tested this theory: multiple times.  I’ve been given more perks on “pretty” days than I actually care to admit.  Case in point…

A few years ago, I was trying to park in a guard/gate-protected lot.  I had my head-rag still on, no make-up & sweats.  The guard told me to ‘beat it’ in no uncertain terms.  I went home, got “dressed,” did my hair & make-up & when I went back -in the exact same car- not only did he not recognize me from before, but he asked for my phone number & let me in the lot in the best spot for free.  This is no coincidence, yall.

At the last Urbana Conference, my friend, Jim challenged me on this.  In order to catch our flight we needed a ride from one hotel to another, something the area hotels weren’t willing to do with 20,000 college students wandering around everywhere.  I knew I was looking reasonably cute that day & told Jim if there was a man around I could get us a ride.  (Geez, this sounds so evil right?)  Anyway, as I thought, the woman at the front desk basically rolled her eyes at me.  When I found a man outside in the shuttle bus, not only did he get out to load my stuff, but gave us a ride & asked me if there was anywhere else I needed to go.  Jim was looking at me with pure shock & disbelief.

Let me say, briefly: I’m reformed from my evil ways of using human sexuality to manipulate and procure privileges. Happy?  One time I made the mistake of explaining my little theory  to a group of my InterVarsity colleagues which happened to include my Supervisor whom I love and whose opinions I respect.

They all looked at me with such mortification, shock & awe I knew it just had to be wrong.  Fred, said supervisor, looked so disappointed in me that I’ve completely re-thought the issue of privilege.  Namely, when do we use it? When is it okay to recognize some-one is treating you differently and allow it to happen?

Or, on the flip side, when is it good -say as a white male- to use your privilege to ensure safety, peace or education for minorities who aren’t privy to such privileges?

I recognize when I have more privilege and opportunities than my darker African-American counter-parts which in some scenario’s of being the “only one in a room,” leaves me feeling relieved but in other scenario’s leaves me feeling guilty as trash knowing there is no reason I should be treated better based on having lighter skin.

Or, how about gender in privilege?  In some Christian circles I run in, being a woman is doing me a fat lot of good.  In InterVarsity, however, their commitment to make space for women in leadership has been awesome for me & countless others.

If you stop to think about it for any length of time, it’s actually quite a complicated moral matter.  And I haven’t even brought up the middle-class privilege.  Another blog for another day though, huh?

Back to the Apple store.  I recognized the anxst I was feeling about all this knowing I needed to go back and demand tax-exemption.  I decided what I needed was an advocate: a white man.  Problem was I couldn’t find a white man to go with me.

It took me about 1 hr. & 1 conversation with a friend to realize, in this instance I was not doing anything wrong and needed not to rely on a) the privilege and authority of a white male friend advocate or b) rely on pretty privilege.

I was not going to attempt to “dress the part,” doggone it.  I was going back up there just as I was that day: fat & pregnant, swollen & pale, with no make-up, ratty nappy hair stuffed into a doo-rag.  And just as I thought, it was a disaster again.  So much so, in fact, I’m thinking of going above the store.

Processing this in the last few days has been sort of sad for me.  I hate how they treated me and mistrusted me. Wondering if it’s simply my pride and ego that was bruised?  I.E. Just because I’m a professional & they didn’t recognize me as so, doesn’t mean I’m any less of person, does it? (No, of course not, but I hate even letting silly thoughts like this cross my brain).

Ultimately, when I’m not feeling particularly pretty or confident, when I’m out of “costume” I need to respond to whatever situation life throws me with grace and dignity being shrewd as a snake and innocent as a dove.

Something, this person of (light-skinned, pretty, middle-class, etc.) privilege hasn’t quite figured out yet.


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