We have a problem with our own privilege

We discovered this, somewhat surprised, when we talked about pretty privilege, or the advantages that a person with a conforming body, a conforming gender, and a series of traditionally attractive traits has when moving through the world, looking for a job, asking for a lighter at a bar, or interacting with a doctor, or when they need to ask for help. We thought it was obvious, yet apparently, it’s not. A flood of comments came our way, and the internet—using an expression typical of gossip journalism or those appealing to the basest instincts of human nature—was outraged. We wondered why.

What does privilege mean?

By privilege, by definition, we mean a special right, advantage, or immunity granted or available only to a particular person or group. To understand privilege in general (but especially your own), you need to look around, contextualize yourself, and relate to others. I am a white woman born in Italy, young, able-bodied, cisgender. I studied what I wanted and work in a field I enjoy and chose. All of these things, even though I have no control over them, are privileges, because in Western society, in today’s world, they put me above, for example, in terms of treatment, stereotypes, and prejudice, a Black woman, a disabled woman, or a trans woman; someone who didn’t have the chance to study due to a lack of funds; or someone who had to flee their country to survive and tried to build a life elsewhere without help. Who is better off than me? A white, cisgender, heterosexual man, for example. A very wealthy white woman who doesn’t need to work and can afford the best care in the world’s finest clinics, for example. Just one example to try and clarify a concept that is extremely multifaceted and complex, involving gender, physical ability, sexual orientation, birth, but also class, age, skin color, and the part of the world you were born in.

Why don’t we accept it?

It seems that whenever privilege is mentioned, the people involved feel personally attacked, as if they’re at risk of losing an advantage they may not have even realized they had. However, the goal is not to point fingers, make accusations, or encourage renouncing everything you have, nor to deny your own merits. Quite the opposite. It’s an invitation to awareness, because privilege can also be a tool. A tool to use, for example, when we witness an injustice, because we are more protected than the person experiencing it. It’s a condition to be used not for personal gain but for the benefit of those who don’t have it. Acknowledging your privilege is the first step. Just because we haven't had to face certain challenges doesn't mean everything has been easy for us, only that it's not fair for others to have to face them.

How is it useful to be aware of your own?

When we move through the world, do we know what our appearance and background bring with them, without having to do anything other than exist? Do we know how we are moving ahead of others, bypassing meritocracy? It’s a fragile balance, but one that we need to strive to maintain: the balance between awareness and good use, between using the fact that, for example, the voice of a white person is more listened to and their space more respected, not to center ourselves but to amplify the voices of Black and non-white people. Understanding and internalizing that we are not the center of the world—or rather, that we are at the center of the world at someone else’s expense, not due to personal merit but by birth—can be difficult, but it makes us better people, more empathetic, more willing to help others, and to fight for a more just society.