Day 12 - The Invisible Knapsack

I can, if I wish, arrange

to be in the company of people

of my race most of the time.

You may not.

I can, if I wish, avoid

spending time with people

whom I was trained to mistrust

and who have learned

to mistrust my kind or me.

You may not.

I can, if I should need to move,

be pretty sure of renting

or purchasing housing in

an area which I can afford

and in which I would want to live.

You may not.

I can be reasonably sure

that my neighbors in such a location

will be neutral or pleasant to me.

You may not.

I can, if I need, go shopping

alone most of the time,

fairly well assured

that I will not be followed

or harassed by store detectives.

You may not.

I can turn on the television

or open to the front page of the paper

and see people of my race

widely and positively represented.

You may not.

I can be sure that my children

will be given curricular materials

that testify to the existence

and the glory of their race.

You may not.

I can, if I want to, be pretty sure

of finding a publisher

for this piece

on white privilege.

You may not.

I can be fairly sure

of having my voice heard

in a group in which

I am the only member

of my race.

You may not.

I can be casual about, whether or not

to listen to another woman's voice

in a group in which she is

the only member of her race.

You may not.

I could arrange

to protect our young children

most of the time, from people

who might not like them.

You may not.

I did not have to educate

our children to be aware

of systemic racism

for their own daily

physical protection.

You do.

I can talk with my mouth full

and not have people

put this down to my color.

You may not.

I can, if I choose, swear,

or dress in secondhand clothes,

or not answer letters,

without having people

attribute these choices

to the bad morals, the poverty,

or the illiteracy of my race.

You may not.

I am never asked

to speak for all the people

of my racial group.

You are.

I can remain oblivious

to the language and customs

of persons of color

who constitute the world's majority

without feeling in my culture

any penalty for such oblivion.

You may not.

If a traffic cop pulls me over

or if the IRS audits my tax return,

I can be sure I haven't been singled out

because of my race.

You may not.

I can be pretty sure

that an argument

with a colleague of another race

is more likely to jeopardize

her chances for advancement

than to jeopardize mine.

You may not.

I can, if I choose, worry

And talk about racism

without being seen

as self-interested

or selfseeking.

You may not.

I can choose public accommodation

without fearing that people of my race

cannot get in or will be mistreated

in the places I have chosen.

You may not.

I can choose blemish cover

or bandages in "flesh" color

and have them more or

less match my skin.

You may not.

I am the white.

Let’s rotate and move

the wheel of oppression,

and I could be a male.

Or a heterosexual.

Or an able bodied.

A cisgender. Or a Brahmin.

And this story will still be true.

The knapsack is carried on. 

Invisible, and thankfully so.

So do you – oh, you! the lesser you!

Do you see how I am now? 

- Based on Peggy McIntosh' paper, WHITE PRIVILEGE AND MALE PRIVILEGE: A Personal Account of Coming to See Correspondences Through Work in Women's Studies (1988)


#Day12 #The100DayProject #100DaysOfProseToPoetry #WhitePrivilege Peggy McIntosh #InvisibleKnapsack #SEED