The term “Privilege” gets thrown around a lot these days,
but I’m encountering more and more people who seem confused by its meaning.
This morning, I had an experience that reminded me:

Hemming Plaza is one of the largest gatherings of people without homes in the Jacksonville metropolitan area.
Every day, several dozen people sit in this public space.
They play chess.
They play dominoes.
They talk.
They pace.
They panhandle.
They barter.
Or they simply wait.
This morning, I decided to park my car in San Marco and hop the city’s Sky Rail down to Hemming Plaza to sit and read and maybe write a bit.
As I pulled up a chair to one of the tables designated “Food Truck Patrons Only”
(I wanted to buy some coffee, really, but the Vagabond truck wasn’t open yet),
I paused to notice the people around me.
They were predominantly black, and most carried a few possessions in grocery bags.
Clothing ranged from the bare essentials to full heavy coats.
Expressions ran the gamut from downtrodden to delighted.
And the iron-faced statue of a Confederate soldier looked down over the whole place.

As I sat among this group, the main thought on my mind was this:
Had I not had affluent parents,
who not only advocated for me to get a college education,
but paid for it as well;
had I not been born with white skin,
immune to the barbs of racism
that prevent so many from advancing in society and industry;
had I not been born male,
insulated atop a glass ceiling
with rights commonly withheld from my female colleagues
(especially in male-dominated professions like clergy),
maybe,
maybe had it not been for those things,
waiting there in Hemming Plaza would have been my fate too,
but because I was born white, male, and affluent,
I will probably never have to live that lifestyle.

But it gets bigger.
I could have been born in any country.
I could have been born in any time.
And yet, here I am:
an American, straight, white, protestant male
born in the absolute heyday
of American, straight, white, protestant males.
I’m a nerd at a time when nerds rule.
I’m a drinker at a time when drinking is socially acceptable.
I’m physically healthy because we live in the most medically advanced era yet.
I’m a Christian in a time when politicians still feel the need to claim they are Christians so that they can woo our coveted voting bloc.
“Flesh-colored” bandaids and crayons are the color of my flesh.
My taste in music is what gets the label of mainstream
because it would seem
that I am the majority
by no action of my own.
It’s inherited merit working to my advantage.

This is privilege.
It’s something I never earned,
and yet I reap its benefits daily,
and on most days,
I take it completely for granted.
I barely even think about it
because I don’t have to.
This is privilege.
And knowing that I cannot change my status,
that my skin, gender, sexual orientation, and parents’ income
are immutably part of me,
I face a new question,
and you as a reader probably face it too:

Since you carry this unearned privilege, what will you do?
Will you wallow in white guilt, male guilt, cis guilt, or the like,
or will you listen to those born without the same privilege
and get their advice on how you can use your privilege
to make a difference for those who’ve been denied privilege?