A Helpful Analogy for Understanding Privilege

It started with a simple question of one of my new friends: “May I try on your glasses?” This is sometimes a fun exercise—see how blind your friend is and see how you look with their frames on your face. We got a good laugh out of both of those things, but it also served as a reminder of something I had realized before but had forgotten—I have really good vision! That was brought (back) to light for me when, within our conversation, one of my other friends mentioned that she wears contacts.

Apparently a lot of people wear contacts. This is something that usually catches me by surprise. As someone with really good vision, I assume that anyone who isn’t wearing glasses also has really good vision. Who knew that I am pretty much the only person that doesn’t require the constant assistance of vision correction? Certainly not me! Had it not been for this conversation, one that I now remember I’ve had before in other contexts, I would have gone on believing that every non-glasses-wearing person had vision as good as mine.

This conversation becomes a helpful analogy for understanding privilege. Just so we’re on the same page, Google defines privilege as, “a special right, advantage, or immunity granted or available only to a particular person or group of people.” In the conversation recounted above, I realized that good vision is a privilege I enjoy. Not everyone shares it. It’s advantageous. And I didn’t ask for it; it was granted to me by genes and probably diet or lifestyle at some level too.

But I didn’t realize that I enjoyed it until I engaged with someone who did not. In the context of my friendship, I tried on a pair of glasses and saw what my vision-impaired friend sees every day without them: an indecipherable, fuzzy, blurry mess. Without knowing him, and without a trusting relationship, I never would have been able to learn what it’s like to see without the privilege of vision.

Vision, or able-bodiedness in general, is just one category of privilege that I enjoy. Some of my other privileges:

• I’m white.
• I’m male (anatomically), identify as a man, and am heterosexual. All three of these together is a bonus privilege.
• I’m of average size and stature (for a white man).
• I’m Christian. (Although it’s debatable as to whether or not our society still values this, it affords me a certain cultural foundation that is still beneficial.)
• English is my first language—Standard American English, at that.
• I’m a U.S. citizen by birth. And I live in the country where I have citizenship.
• I come from a comfortably middle class family.
• I have a college education from a school with at least a little bit of name recognition.

I don’t pretend to have a comprehensive list here, but I think you get the picture. If not, then let me say this: I haven’t yet encountered a form of privilege that I don’t enjoy.

Allow me to ride this vision analogy a little bit further. When I took off the glasses, I had a headache for a moment. My system was confused, in shock from the new perspective I gained by peering through my friend’s lenses. It’s disorienting and frustrating and often hurtful to realize that you have privilege, especially when you learn that it’s at the expense of others who don’t share that privilege.

But I’ve also learned that it’s okay to enter into that pain, learn from it, and become more aware. Although my vision may indeed get worse with time, most of my privilege will be with me forever. Like the glasses, I won’t ever be able to take it off. And that means it can be easy to forget or overlook in the future. Remember, I’ve had the realization that I have great vision before! But my privilege acts as a blinder (excuse the pun) to the fact that others don’t go through life in the same way that I do.

One last thing to note—I made jokes about my friend’s need for glasses as I learned about his different experience: “Wow! You’re really blind!” Although jokes can sometimes help to alleviate pain, they usually end up causing pain, too. I say this addressing two crowds: those with privilege and those without.

To those with privilege, know that you are always walking on eggshells as you take this journey of growing awareness. Remember, your privilege blinds you to all kinds of stuff you never imagined, like the fact that people wear contacts! Be ready to hear these things, and don’t make excuses. (e.g. “He’s just playing the race card.”) In that vein, I’m aware that I’ve probably offended someone as they’ve read this blog post. But I’m ready to receive that, and in the context of a trusting relationship, have a conversation that will bring understanding and deeper awareness.

To those without as much privilege, please have grace with us who do. We need a lot of it to figure all this stuff out. Please, please keep raising our awareness whenever you can, but always take the time and space you need when we do things that are offensive.

Although I walked into Mission Year aware of a lot of my privilege, I’m still encountering it in new ways all the time. But it’s not just about awareness. The next step is learning to leverage my privilege for those who don’t share it, in a way that’s dignifying to them. That’s what a lot of my Mission Year is, so this won’t be the last discussion of privilege. Watch for more on privilege, especially racial privilege, in future blog posts.