I’m A Racist — Let’s Talk About Privilege

I have been a Lyft driver in Sacramento off an on since February 2017. I will continue to drive for Lyft here until August, when I move into my college housing to finish my undergrad. While driving on the eve of Sacramento Pride, I had the pleasure of two very distinct rides, with some very different passengers in each.

During the first ride with a lovely young woman I picked up in an area near Martin Luther King Blvd, we got to talking about how people simply do not seem to understand what privilege is, and how we as a community can help spread the idea that privilege exists all over, but those who have the most are the ones most responsible for helping remove the effects of that privilege, or to use said privilege to help those without it.

I got to explaining how I, as a Caucasian, have a responsibility to help push forward movements like #BlackLivesMatter and explain as best I can the reasons why the blue lives and all lives movements are horrific examples of the privilege I am trying to shed light on.

I am a very open person about my own feelings, my desires, my wishes and concerns, whether these things are about myself or my community or the people I love. I told my passenger that I have lost a lot of privilege, being a transwoman, and one who could, if I tried, go back to passing as a cis, hetero, christian white male. When I transitioned, I went from getting a job offer as soon as I completed interviews, to never hearing back after four or five interviews with the same company. I went from never being afraid while walking alone in the middle of the night, to having the knowledge that I am now a target.

Still I know that I have privilege, and I seek to use said privilege, whenever I can to help educate those among our citizenry to the disgusting imbalance of equity, especially among the most vulnerable among us: trans women of color. That is not the whole of it though. This passenger, a woman of color herself, began telling me that we need more people to “put their money where their mouth is” so to speak. More people who can take their knowledge of privilege and work to elicit change.

When I dropped her off, she thanked me for putting myself out there to help as much as I can, while also letting me know that even with what I am doing, I can still do more, and I really want to.

The second ride was a bit less enjoyable, but so indicative of what I am talking about when I say I am trying to bring information to those who do not wish to have it.

I picked up two women, best friends, who immediately recognized that I was from the east coast, and asked me if I was a Patriots fan. Our conversation went through the NFL and what is going on with the 49ers and Jimmy Garoppplo, and how much success he will bring to the franchise. This morphed into the Ravens and Ray Rice, to which I simply dropped the earwig: “Ray Rice is an abuser, period.”

This elicited a conversation that dove headfirst into the anthem and professionals kneeling during the anthem. One of the passengers claimed to have gone to school with Colin Kapernick, and how “Colin is an ass. He has so much, was adopted by rich white parents. He has nothing to protest.”

Try as I did, I could not get her to realize that it isn’t the fact that Kapernick has privilege that she should be worried about, but rather she should be worrying about those who are pushing him around because of his protest. I tried to show her how, through his actions, Kap has done more the equity of people of color than anyone else. I explained that it was an Army vet who suggested Kap kneel as the utmost form of respect during his protest (linked above). I tried to explain how privilege works for those of white heritage, and how we have to put our own racist tendencies at the front of our minds so that we can work on abolishing our racism, and to help others find and dissect their own.

She was hearing none of it. She was so blind in her hate for Kapernick protesting when she believed him to have no cause that she could not see the message he was presenting. Her friend even went so far as to say that Kapernick isn’t black, because he was adopted by a white family.

I was floored.

Their racism was on display and I, someone who has taken to owning that I as a white human am racist, felt like I could do nothing to remove my passengers blinders.

I went to Pride Activated! in Sacramento on Saturday and made a shirt to wear at Sac Pride Sunday. I placed the newer inclusive pride flag on my shirt above a “#BlackTransLivesMatter” hashtag, which I was originally going to just keep as #BlackLivesMatter until the last second. I got compliments on my shirt for most of Pride.

I can still do so much more — I have privilege, and I know it. I am racist, and I hate it, but hating my racism does not give me a pass to get away with inaction. It does not give me a pass to watch racism in action and do nothing.

It does not allow me to sit back and stop trying to educate someone, whether they are a customer of mine or not, on why their comments on Kapernick are wrong.

I am racist, just like every white American, whether they admit it or not. It is our responsibility as people of privilege to use that privilege and bring education and equity to all of us, especially with our current political climate.

I need to put aside my own insecurities when I am pushing equity, and start taking a stand in the face of racism instead of sitting back and watching the verbal punches land.