40 to 40: Privilege

I turn 40 years old in 40 weeks.?I'm using this as an excuse to reflect on (what I hope is) the first half of my life, capturing 40 lessons learned as I count down to my birthday.

Today I'm thinking about privilege.

A few weeks ago I was wrapping up a meeting. An Asian-American woman and I were walking out of the room together when she stopped, turned to me, and with a serious expression asked "Do you think curiosity is a privilege?" Someone else -- a tall white man -- immediately answered that it probably wasn't. I thought about it, then told her I didn't know. She shrugged, we said goodbye, and I left.

For several days after, I couldn't get the question out of my head. I kept turning it over and over in my mind. Curiosity is critical skill in the knowledge economy. Was it only available to those who are "privileged"? If so, what are the implications for society?

Privilege is something I've thought about a lot over the last few years. It's increasingly clear that I am in the early stages of my own journey to better understand privilege. Even at this point, however, I've already updated my beliefs about the role of privilege in the world.

To be clear, I dislike the idea of privilege. Everything I want to believe about the world undermines the concept of privilege. I want a level playing field. I want equality of opportunity. I want people to pull themselves up by their own bootstraps. I want effort to lead to impact, which should then lead to reward.

I want the world to be fair.

Of course, the world isn't fair. Not even close. It is biased in a ton of ways, and I'm the beneficiary of almost all of those biases. Humans are biased in favor of tall people. Humans are biased in favor of symmetry. Humans are biased in favor of lighter skin, especially for women. Humans are biased in favor of men in leadership roles.

This isn't some self-hating post. I don't blame myself for subconscious biases that exist in all of us, nor do I blame myself for the state of the world. That said, I have to keep grappling with questions around privilege. Unlike a lot of other white men, I am married to a black woman. I also have biracial children. I hear stories of their experiences, and that forces me to (1) try to help them process these experiences in healthy ways and (2) reflect on how different my life is from theirs.

What have I learned so far? My privilege has protected me in many ways over the years. No one has ever assumed I was the secretary in a meeting that I was actually running. No one ever challenged the legitimacy of my education or my ability to earn entry into a top university. No one ever repeated hurtful comments about "people like me" they learned from their parents. No one ever refused to swim with me because they were worried about my skin color "coming off" in the water and getting on them.

Privilege actually saved my life. I appeared before a judge at sixteen, who looked me up and down and decided I was a "good kid" and "could get on track." I was allowed to do a diversion program (basically, lots of community service) and my arrest didn't show up on my record. I would not have been able to enlist in the Marines, which was the crucible I needed at the time.

Why did that judge give me the benefit of the doubt? I obviously don't know, but it must have been a combination of factors. And we know bias creeps into sentencing. Would that judge see the same potential in a dark-skinned version of me? As a kid, I would have said yes. Maybe even in my twenties. But now I know better.

So what? Bias is real. Privilege is a thing. Now the question is "What should I do with this knowledge?" I'm not the kind of person who wants to opine about these topics. I want to take action.

First, my wife and I have been intentional about speaking to our children about privilege, although we don't use that language yet. We have a diverse group of "aunties" and "uncles" (some related by blood, but mostly just close friends) who provide other perspectives for them. As our children deal with the consequences of being biracial in America, they will always know they have people who love them who will be there to talk it out. This is the most powerful tool they have to reconcile themselves to privilege.

Second, after extensive research into the most evidence-based and impactful non-profits in the space, we've selected the Equal Justice Initiative for sizable monthly donations. EJI does great work attacking the most harmful ways privilege shows up in American society: mass incarceration and public education.

Third, we specifically target underprivileged groups for direct financing on Kiva. This started out small, with a single $25 loan every week. We have slowly scaled that up, and the kids have enjoyed learning about different regions, industries, and demographics they can target for giving. I'm proud to say we've given over 1,000 loans at this point.

Fourth, I keep educating myself. This is primarily through conversations and books. The hardest book for me to read recently (meaning it is probably the one I needed to read the most) was Caste: the Origin of Our Discontent by Isabel Wilkerson. As my ignorance reduces and my vocabulary expands, I find myself growing in unexpected ways.

Of course, this is still not enough. There is nothing I can do to make up for my privilege. It doesn't even make sense to talk about privilege in that way. At this point, what does make sense is to acknowledge how much my perspective has shifted since I started doing life with my wife, and had biracial children. It makes sense to assume my perspective will continually change, and my behavior along with it.

I'd be lying if I said there isn't a creeping sense of shame in my earlier behavior. It's not overwhelming, but it is definitely there. As a single white man I could ignore the reality of my privilege if I wanted to. And, honestly, that is what I did. Now I am trying to confront the reality of privilege, and work on those aspects where I feel like I can make a difference.

This is where a strategy is important. It's worth clarifying that I am not to trying to solve the world's problems. I want to make tangible progress and build relationships while doing so. That means doing a little more each year, learning as I go.