Back in the 1990's I attended a small liberal arts college in Massachusetts where I was one of a very small group of non-White students. This felt normal since my high school demographics were similar.
But the normalcy of being in the minority didn't negate the sting of racist commentary. One semester, my college dining hall installed a stir fry station, and after puzzling over how to use the electric wok (gadgets are not my strong suit), I asked the staffer who was supervising the station how to use it. He laughed and said, "Shouldn't you know how to use a wok?" I was horrified.
(By the way, that experience is one reason why you will never, ever, hear me order an Oriental dish from a restaurant. OMG why are people still using that term?)
Anyway, I was the editor of my college newspaper and wrote my weekly editorial about the incident. I don't recall demanding anything; I simply wanted to share the story to raise awareness about how this kind of commentary is not OK. Well, imagine my surprise when I got called in for a meeting with the head of dining services and the staffer. His defense: he was just joking and I needed to lighten up. My response: racist jokes aren't funny and telling me to lighten up wasn't the solution.
The meeting proceeded awkwardly and ended uncomfortably, with no particular resolution. I figured, OK, whatever. Onward. (Except you better believe I never went near the wok station again.)
And then later that week, I was told that the staffer got fired over the incident. I had a lot of feelings. On the one hand, I was like, "APPROPRIATE. F*ck that guy!" On the other hand I was like, "OMG, I got someone fired. Does he have a family? Will he be able to find another job?" As a person who was also struggling to make ends meet, I was legitimately stressed about my role in his livelihood.
Fast forward to this week, where I had a very bad experience with a Lyft driver: He was a Trump driver (he was listening to Howie Carr and railing about Iowa) + he nearly drove us off the road a few times while he was messing around with his phone. After a few swerves (his), gasps (mine), and thoughts of "OMG I can't believe I'm going to die with a Trump supporter" (mine), I finally said, "Sir, I am very uncomfortable with your driving. You need to be hands-free with me in the car." He responded defensively but went hands-free for the remainder of the ride.
The next morning I fretted over the Lyft review and it occurred to me that my feelings from the college wok incident were weighing on me. If I left a bad review would he get fired? On the other hand, if I didn't leave a bad review, would someone else eventually suffer as a result?
I left the review and within 24 hours received a response from Lyft with deep apologies, a refund for the ride, and assurances that they were conducting an investigation into the driver because his actions did not follow their guidelines.
My first reaction was, "Way to be awesome, LYFT!" My second reaction was, "Damn, these two experiences--nearly 20 years apart--are a really telling example of privilege." Because when you use your voice in a privileged eco-system--in these cases, a private college and a community where people can afford to pay other people to drive them around--your voice gets heard (or at least has a better chance of being heard). And it was a sharp reminder that especially now, those of us with privilege need to give voice to those who don't or who have less voice. Because--just to cite one recent example--if the cowardly Senators who voted to acquit Trump were unwilling to use their privileged voices for justice, they sure aren't going to use their voices for, say, children in cages.
Listen, I know people get squirrely when the word "privilege" comes up, but I encourage you to pause and pivot. Position your privilege as a positive in that you can use it for good. Whether it's related to the forthcoming election or moments in everyday life, we can use our voices to make change for ourselves and others.
