I have white privilege. If I get stopped for speeding, it’s likely I’ll get a warning. If I step into a crowded elevator, people won’t back away from me, unless I forgot to shower that morning. If I walk into a liquor store with a hoodie on, no one asks me to put the hood down so the security cameras can see my face. When I walk down a sidewalk, people won’t cross the street to walk on the other side.
When people see me, they don’t assume that I’m a troublemaker. I could have the most vile of views, and yet if I showed up to march in support of my hatred, I’d not only get a permit, when violence arises, people would blame the protesters and not me.
I don’t worry about being pulled aside at the airport and being subjected to extra “security” measures. No one will forcibly drag me from an airplane. I don’t worry about random gunfire killing me in my living room.
White lives have always mattered in a country built around the concept that all people were created equal. White Christian lives matter even more.
So yes, I am white and I am privileged. And I am ashamed. People like Peter Tefft of Fargo do not represent me. I don’t want to make America hate again; we’ve had too much of that already. I want to live in a country where my life matters just as much as anyone else. Anyone else. No exceptions, period.