Checking My Privilege
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Checking My Privilege

Checking My Privilege

Why I don't apologize for white privilege.

by

There is a phrase that floats around college campuses, Princeton being no exception, that threatens to strike down opinions without regard for their merits, but rather solely on the basis of the person that voiced them. “Check your privilege,” the saying goes, and I have been reprimanded by it several times this year.

The phrase, handed down by my moral superiors, descends recklessly, like a drone, and aims laser-like at my pinkish-peach complexion, my maleness, and the nerve I displayed in offering an opinion rooted in a personal Weltanschauung. “Check your privilege,” they tell me in a command that teeters between an imposition to actually explore how I got where I am, and a reminder that I ought to feel personally apologetic because white males seem to pull most of the strings in the world.

It diminishes the hard work I’ve done, and ascribes the fruit I sow to some invisible patron saint of white maleness who places it out for me.

I do not accuse those who “check” me and my perspective of overt racism, although the phrase, which assumes that simply because I belong to a certain ethnic group I should be judged collectively with it, toes that line. But I do condemn them for diminishing everything I have personally accomplished, all the hard work I have done in my life, and for ascribing all the fruit I reap not to the seeds I sow but to some invisible patron saint of white maleness who places it out for me before I even arrive. Furthermore, I condemn them for casting the equal protection clause, indeed the very idea of a meritocracy, as a myth, and for declaring that we are all governed by invisible forces (some would call them “stigmas” or “societal norms”), that our nation runs on racist and sexist conspiracies. Forget “you didn’t build that;” check your privilege and realize that nothing you have accomplished is real.

But they can’t be telling me that everything I’ve done with my life can be credited to the racist patriarchy holding my hand throughout my years of education and eventually guiding me into Princeton. Even that is too extreme. So to find out what they are saying, I decided to take their advice. I actually went and checked the origins of my privileged existence, to empathize with those whose underdog stories I can’t possibly comprehend. I have unearthed some examples of the privilege with which my family was blessed, and now I think I better understand those who assure me that skin color allowed my family and I to flourish today.

Perhaps it’s the privilege my grandfather and his brother had to flee their home as teenagers when the Nazis invaded Poland, leaving their mother and five younger siblings behind, running and running until they reached a Displaced Persons camp in Siberia, where they would do years of hard labor in the bitter cold until World War II ended. Maybe it was the privilege my grandfather had of taking on the local Rabbi’s work in that DP camp, telling him that the spiritual leader shouldn’t do hard work, but should save his energy to pass Jewish tradition along to those who might survive. Perhaps it was the privilege my great-grandmother and those five great-aunts and uncles I never knew had of being shot into an open grave outside their hometown. Maybe that’s my privilege.

Or maybe it’s the privilege my grandmother had of spending weeks upon weeks on a death march through Polish forests in subzero temperatures, one of just a handful to survive, only to be put in Bergen-Belsen concentration camp where she would have died but for the Allied forces who liberated her and helped her regain her health when her weight dwindled to barely 80 pounds.

Perhaps my privilege is that those two resilient individuals came to America with no money and no English, obtained citizenship, learned the language and met each other; that my grandfather started a humble wicker basket business with nothing but long hours, an idea, and an iron will – to paraphrase the man I never met: “I escaped Hitler. Some business troubles are going to ruin me?” Maybe my privilege is that they worked hard enough to raise four children, and to send them to Jewish day school and eventually City College.

Perhaps it was my privilege that my own father worked hard enough in City College to earn a spot at a top graduate school, got a good job, and for 25 years got up well before the crack of dawn, sacrificing precious time he wanted to spend with those he valued most – his wife and kids – to earn that living. I can say with certainty there was no legacy involved in any of his accomplishments. The wicker business just isn’t that influential. Now would you say that we’ve been really privileged? That our success has been gift-wrapped?

That’s the problem with calling someone out for the “privilege” which you assume has defined their narrative. You don’t know what their struggles have been, what they may have gone through to be where they are. Assuming they’ve benefitted from “power systems” or other conspiratorial imaginary institutions denies them credit for all they’ve done, things of which you may not even conceive. You don’t know whose father died defending your freedom. You don’t know whose mother escaped oppression. You don’t know who conquered their demons, or may still be conquering them now.

Behind every success, large or small, there is a story, and it isn’t always told by sex or skin color.

The truth is, though, that I have been exceptionally privileged in my life, albeit not in the way any detractors would have it.

It has been my distinct privilege that my grandparents came to America. First, that there was a place at all that would take them from the ruins of Europe. And second, that such a place was one where they could legally enter, learn the language, and acclimate to a society that ultimately allowed them to flourish.

It was their privilege to come to a country that grants equal protection under the law to its citizens, that cares not about religion or race, but the content of your character.

It was my privilege that my grandfather was blessed with resolve and an entrepreneurial spirit, and that he was lucky enough to come to the place where he could realize the dream of giving his children a better life than he had.

But far more important for me than his attributes was the legacy he sought to pass along, which forms the basis of what detractors call my “privilege,” but which actually should be praised as one of altruism and self-sacrifice. Those who came before us suffered for the sake of giving us a better life. When we similarly sacrifice for our descendants by caring for the planet, it’s called “environmentalism,” and is applauded. But when we do it by passing along property and a set of values, it’s called “privilege.” Such sacrifice of any form shouldn’t be scorned, but admired.

My exploration did yield some results. I recognize that it was my parents’ privilege and now my own that there is such a thing as an American dream which is attainable even for a penniless Jewish immigrant.

I am privileged that values like faith and education were passed along to me. My grandparents played an active role in my parents’ education, and some of my earliest memories included learning the Hebrew alphabet with my Dad. It’s been made clear to me that education begins in the home, and the importance of parents’ involvement with their kids’ education – from mathematics to morality – cannot be overstated. It’s not a matter of white or black, male or female or any other division which we seek, but a matter of the values we pass along, the legacy we leave, that perpetuates “privilege.” And there’s nothing wrong with that.

Behind every success, large or small, there is a story, and it isn’t always told by sex or skin color. My appearance certainly doesn’t tell the whole story, and to assume that it does and that I should apologize for it is insulting. While I haven’t done everything for myself up to this point in my life, someone sacrificed himself so that I can lead a better life. But that is a legacy I am proud of.

I have checked my privilege. And I apologize for nothing.

This article originally appeared in The Princeton Tory.

Published: May 4, 2014


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Visitor Comments: 150

(90) Anonymous, July 17, 2014 11:58 PM

needless

I think his should have been some kind of bedroom opinion otherwise he might be seen as displaying childish arrogance. Though it might not have been the case for Tal, checking your privilege is a practical reality all over the world as it was in US history. Tal should know that too many African American men and women who are as proud and successful as he is owe their success to the brain and industry of their ancestors.

(89) Susan, June 20, 2014 9:33 PM

White Male Privilege is real, even if Jews do suffer

This person is conflating "privilege" with "never having problems". In the general world, the writer is still a white male & still gets privileges he hasn't earned - and probably doesn't even notice. It's embarrassing to see any Jew refuse to acknowledge that somebody, somewhere, might have actually suffered something we haven't.

(88) Ailisheva, May 13, 2014 10:07 PM

True Privilege

The truth is that most people in the US today are descendants of immigrants somehow. The first and maybe the second generation can be difficult just because being in a new country always brings challenges. Many won't recognise the person from an immigrant family once the accents are gone. The US has become so diverse. Most people in the US love accents and foreigners. Many foreigners are treated like royalty. Yet this is not always the case depending on which ethnic group one adheres to. Large groups of people who don't want to integrate, learn the language or dress/act the way the locals do are always looked down on no matter which country is in question. Still I really believe that humans have a terrible tendency to be racist. If everyone were the same colour, people would find something else like eye or hair colour to discriminate against. I am a Jewish-Caribbean-Afro-Eurasian-Amerindian-American Latina. I am the first generation of an immigrant family to be born in the US. When my parents first came to the US they faced many challenges including racism. My father worked his way starting with such jobs as stitching brooms before working his way through school and achieving his dream to become a physician. Was there any privilege? Yes because of their thick foreign accents my parents sometimes were treated better then other brownish looking people. They also passed on to me the desire to catch a hold of my dreams and a strong work ethic while maintaining values. etc.etc. The truth is that true privilege is the legacy that parents pass on to their children. We are all a collective of what came before us. Compassion and empathy are about having eyes to see the struggles of others regardless of pigmentation or lack thereof. Everyone should travel to see other cultures and to just loose the chip off of the shoulder and replace it with compassion and empathy for others regardless of who they are or where they came from.

(87) mark, May 13, 2014 8:41 PM

Confoundng 2 different questions

Tal is confused. He thinks that Princeton rejects his success and denies it because he is white and wealthy and that gave him unfair advantage. But his Jewish family even in the most adverse conditions where able to pass on the Mesorah to him and through this his family was able to achieve .

(86) yosef, May 13, 2014 7:16 PM

Great article!

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