The rejection letters are piling up, my motivation to
persist in what appears to be a futile endeavour is at an all-time low. You can
only expend so much energy for zero result before the idea of expending ever
increasing amounts of energy at an increased rate begins to look less like
diligence and more like time wasting. It’s been said:
Winners never quit and quitters never win. But those who
never win and never quit are idiots.
I was complaining about this to a colleague this week who
told me ever so lovingly and socially aware…ly that I have a roof and a part
time job already and I have food. I should really check my privilege.
What should have happened next is this:
I glared at her right in her socially conscious eyes,
lowered my voice to that dangerous level my friends could tell you about, and
paused while I waited for the strings section to start. Just quietly at first,
but with the sort of tremulous crescendo that tells you someone’s about to say
something very significant (Thanks Aaron Sorkin).
“Check my privilege? I know exactly where my privilege is.
How could I miss it? It’s been shoved down my throat every day since I was
eight. Every time I’ve achieved something, only to be told it’s not worth as
much as the girls’ achievements because of gender equality. Every time I’ve
striven as hard as I can to meet the standard expected of me, only to see the
standard lowered to assist those who come after me, because of equal
opportunities. Every time I’ve filled out the diversity section of a job
application, knowing full well that my “privilege” is placing me at a marked
disadvantage (Piano part comes in here).
“I’m aware that my demographic does not face the same
challenges as other ethnic, social or minority groups. My challenges are very
different and I accept that. But I didn’t choose to be part of my demographic
any more than anyone else did. I had access to a safe upbringing and a quality
education that others might not have had access to, it’s true. But I got that
opportunity because my parents worked damned hard and gave up a lot of stuff
for me and my sister. If being white placed my parents at an economic
advantage, I don’t think they got the memo (inspirational French horn solo). Respectfully,
they might have done a lot better for themselves in Darwin if they were Greek
or Chinese. There were plenty of other white boys at my school who went on to
achieve nothing at all, so don’t tell me the things I do don’t count because I’m
male, middle-class and white.
"And if you call me Anglo-anything I’m going to punch you
right in your racially insensitive throat. I’m Australian. I have never been to
England and am not allowed to even if I wanted to, which I don’t. I despise
England, its culture, its cricket team and everything
it stands for as a country (Floor toms. Oh yeah, this is awesome). If you have a problem with my past, then fine, but if you call me Anglo again you're about to have a problem with my present.
"And I’m not even saying things have to change to help me out. I’m
saying that when I raise a problem I’m having, don’t just ignore me because "people
like me shouldn’t have problems". If I complain about a service that isn’t
working, don’t expect me to leave you alone and fill out a form on the internet
and then ignore me again. And if I tell you that I’m struggling, don’t send me
into counselling to teach me that everything is fine and I’m just thinking
wrong. (Bright trumpets and the sound of crowds cheering in the background! Cop
that!)
"I didn’t choose any of this. I was born male, white and
clever. I’m pretty sure you weren’t born self-righteous, judgmental and rude. Check
your attitude, bitch! (booming brass finale, roll end credits)”.
What actually happened next is this:
“I suppose you’re right.”
And I walked away and calmly got on with my day, because the
same privileged upbringing that she so resents in me has taught me to be polite
and not yell at people in the street. And I left my symphony orchestra at home
today.
Look, I’m not saying she doesn’t have a point. But it’s one
thing to help the “under-privileged” with extra concessions. It’s quite another
to tell me that nothing I do, say or experience is worth a damn because I’m a white
man. And don’t tell me no-one is saying that. I’m well aware of that. But I’m
also sure I’m not the only white man who feels like he’s supposed to apologise
for who he is every time he needs something and has had enough. Is it any wonder mental illness and suicide rates among men are out of control in our country? Fortunately, my privileged background, upbringing
and education have made me strong enough and smart enough not to hurt myself or
anyone else, but that's not the case for everyone.
Next time you ask me to check my privilege, consider well
what might happen if I did.
Garry with 2 Rs
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