“A people that values its privileges above its principles soon loses both.” ― Dwight D. Eisenhower

I’m not the most qualified person to be speaking on this topic, so I bring it up with hesitation. But I think it’s important.

I progressed embarrassingly far in life before I spent much time considering the concept of privilege. It’s not that I didn’t think it existed, or that I didn’t understand the very real disparities challenging particular communities, but I didn’t give deep consideration to its origins, implications or consequences. Let me be clear that I realize that in-and-of itself is privilege. But since my foray into public health, I’ve had to sit with the concept. If I’m going to make my community healthier for ALL residents, I need to understand the various factors, both positive and negative, that are impacting health. I’ve learned there are many kinds of privilege – racial, economic, heterosexual, gender, religious, etc. You can benefit from one kind of privilege and be disadvantaged in other ways. Privilege is a systemic, cultural experience, not an individual construct.

When you dig into the data, it’s clear that significant disparities exist. For example, non-Hispanic blacks have the highest age-adjusted rates of obesity (48.1%) followed by Hispanics (42.5%), non-Hispanic whites (34.5%), and non-Hispanic Asians (11.7%).  Blacks, non-Hispanics, and Mexican Americans aged 35–44 years experience untreated tooth decay nearly twice as much as white, non-Hispanics. (Health statistics from the CDC) The rate of suicide attempts is four times greater for Lesbian/Gay/Bisexual (LGB) youth and two times greater for questioning youth than that of straight youth. Suicide attempts by LGB youth and questioning youth are four-to-six times more likely to result in injury, poisoning, or overdose that requires treatment from a doctor or nurse, compared to their straight peers. (Suicide statistics from The Trevor Project) One of every three African American children and one of every four Latino children live in poverty— two times higher than the rate for white children. By age three, white children have a significantly larger vocabulary than black children of the same economic class. The gap for race is as large as the gap for class, and remains the same through age 13. Racial disparities in poverty result from cumulative disadvantage over the life course, as the effects of hardship in one domain spill over into other domains. (Poverty statistics from the Gerald R. Ford School of Public Policy, University of Michigan)

Still with me? If when confronted with the concept of privilege, you’re inclined to justify the disparities, qualify them, diminish their significance, please don’t. Sit with the impulse and consider why you feel the need to push back. Our society’s tendency to brush aside these realities has been damaging communities for over a century.

As I’ve observed conversations about privilege over the past few years, several themes emerged. Setting aside those that acknowledge the realities of privilege…there are those that feel the presence of privilege diminishes their own personal accomplishments or hard work (it doesn’t). There are those who believe the disparities exist at the fault of the vulnerable communities themselves (they don’t). Then there are those that proclaim privilege simply doesn’t exist (it does). And usually in the midst of these conversations, if someone says the word “privilege” out loud (or in writing), many of these individuals will respond vigorously, using their personal beliefs and experiences to deny the existence of it. A single person’s experience is never a counterpoint to the experience of an entire community of people, or to the data which supports that experience.

How do we have this conversation? How do we talk about privilege in a way that allows us to move beyond the question of whether or not it exists (considering the mountain of data that proves it does), and to the conversation about reconciling it? I’ve found myself avoiding use of the word during these conversations. Generally, I’m not inclined to avoid a difficult topic or term to make others more comfortable, but as I’ve experienced how this word can single-handedly shut down dialogue, I’ve shifted my approach in the interest of maintaining the conversation. Having this dialogue is critical, particularly if it leads to a deepened understanding. But not calling it what it is diminishes it, so I’m invested in learning how to name it without losing the conversation. This is messy work.

Related to my last post, I believe that an investment in reconciling privilege is rooted in compassion. If we, as a society, aren’t compassionate towards vulnerable Americans, vulnerable communities, we won’t be committed to eliminating disparities. Disadvantaged communities need advantaged communities as allies in their quest for equity. Compassionate allies can build important bridges that will be necessary to achieving that equity.

As a member of an advantaged community, what can you do?

• Listen. Seek to understand the experiences of those who are different from you. Hear their stories and trust their truth.
• Ask. Inquire about how best to be an ally. Let those affected by disparities guide you in how to engage.
• Seek. Work to understand your own privilege.  By better understanding the systemic structures that work for your benefit, you’ll be better able to identify how these same systems might be adversely affecting others. Dig into the data, there is a considerable amount of research that can help inform your perspective.
• Act. Find your passion and be a doer. Volunteer for a local non-profit, or contact your local legislators to advocate for policies that are important to the communities you are supporting. Write letters to the editor or donate money. Don’t sit on the sidelines. Get involved in ways that resonate with you. (If you’re an introvert, don’t volunteer to make phone calls, you’ll hate yourself for it later.)
• In a position to cultivate awareness among others about privilege? The Privilege Walk is a non-threatening, impactful exercise that can spark rich dialogue. If you’re still unsure about privilege and how it influences our experiences, just reading through the exercise can help you understand the subtle, but impactful ways it touches our lives.

“Privilege doesn’t just insulate people from the consequences of their prejudice, it cuts them off from their humanity.”                               ― DaShanne Stokes

Definition of compassion (Merriam-Webster) – sympathetic consciousness for others’ distress together with a desire to alleviate it

Synonyms – mercy, leniency, tolerance, humanity, kindness, warmth, love, tenderness, care, concern

While we lived in Fort Collins, I had the privilege of working with a coalition of residents who lived in several very low-income neighborhoods around town. Most of the residents were Hispanic, some were undocumented. I worked in public health, immersed in data about the inequities that exist within our systems and institutions. I learned that health outcomes are systematically worse for Americans living in poverty and for those who aren’t white. I learned that where we live has more of an influence on our health than our personal habits or whether or not we have access to a physician. I learned that these are well-researched facts which articulate the harsh realities that many Americans face every single day. (Go here if you want to read more about the social determinants of health.)

The residents I worked with were honest, kind and hard-working. They worried about their kids, worried about their parents, and enjoyed talking about all of the same things I talk about with my friends. And they lived in the deepest poverty I’ve ever witnessed first-hand.

As I’ve listened to the political discourse over the past year, I’ve thought often of those residents. I’ve been deeply empathetic for as long as I can remember, but there’s a new dimension when you’ve worked closely with others to address the systemic challenges they’re facing, especially when those individuals’ experiences are vastly different from your own. Every time there’s a conversation about immigrants, I think of them. Every time someone makes an assumption about those who are undocumented, I think of them.

Throughout this election, I’ve spent a considerable amount of time thinking about compassion. After listening, listening and listening some more, my perspective is that as a society we’ve lost ours. Recently, caring about the welfare of others is something to justify, to defend. Or at least it has been for me. Compassion transcends politics, is beyond red and blue. Compassion is acknowledging the very real disparities that exist, politics is disagreeing on the solutions.

When we live in a world where we can create online and in-person communities that reinforce our own beliefs, that insulate us from natural tension and discourse, it becomes easier to make assumptions about those who are different, whatever different means. Whether that’s urbanites and rural Americans, straight and LGBTQ, white and brown, rich or poor, we are inherently weaker with a myopic view. And we lose the middle, the 1000 shades of grey in between. It becomes harder to cultivate compassion for those who’ve walked a different path. With regards to our politicians, they are merely a reflection of the reality we ourselves have created. When we become more, they will be more. It’s like that old business saying…culture eats strategy for breakfast. We are the culture.

So compassion. Of all of the challenges facing us, compassion is fundamental. Until we (the collective we) rediscover our humanity, become invested in the success of all Americans, we’ll continue down this path. It’s a step back from politics. Questions that remain unanswered for me…how do we cultivate compassion? How do we personalize the challenges facing marginalized and vulnerable communities, how do communicate their unique challenges so that their stories are accessible and relatable? (These two questions are incredibly relevant to my professional life as well, so if anyone has any answers, please share.) Most importantly, how do we funnel that compassion into meaningful change? Caring for and about one another is strength, acknowledging that some people do need more help is grace, providing that help is compassion.

“If we have no peace, it is because we have forgotten that we belong to each other.”  ― Mother Teresa