My Big Fat White Privilege
Next week, I’m traveling internationally. And the world is a crazy place right now. But I’m not personally worried about it. That is my privilege.
No one is going to look at me funny as I walk through the airport. I will make it through security with a minimum of discomfort.
I’ll probably have to take off my shoes. BUMMER.
No one will get nervous when I sit next to them on the plane. They will probably be relieved. I won’t be accompanied by my child, and I look like I might offer them gum upon takeoff. (Spoiler alert: I will.)
I will get through customs uneventfully. My passport is in order. I won the genetic lottery, being born in the United States. I am not fleeing anything, save the drudgery of everyday life.
I will move freely about my destination country. When it’s time to come home, my gold-standard passport and I will make it through customs, souvenirs included.
Oh, what a relief.
I am a white, natural-born American citizen. If only I were a man, I would be a triple non-threat.
I promise not to get political too often here. But since the joys of travel are not equally available to everyone these days, I felt this needed to be said.