Hi, How Are You? I’m Privileged.

I had something different for you today, but the events of late have given me pause. I hope they have for you too.

Ok, here we go…

What follows is a story from 2013:

We moved in to our home in Denver in the spring. Denver, like many urban neighborhoods, is characterized by small, quaint brick bungalows packed closely together. As such, I wanted good neighbor relations.

One day soon after our arrival, a slow-moving, dark-green diesel Dodge truck rumbles to a stop as I am taking out the trash in the alley. A lanky older man with a tightly-folded bill cap, likely in his 70s, leans out the driver’s side window. As he does, his t-shirt slides up his leathery arm, revealing the bottom of a series of questionable prison tattoos along with a well-defined farmer’s tan.

He politely introduces himself as my neighbor (which I already know), and asks if I would be willing to have a discussion in his yard in an hour or so. I answer the only way I can…

“Umm..ok, sure.”

Later, as the gate comes closed on his backyard fence, he shakes my hand and asks if I prefer a Budweiser or Bud Light. Not liking either, but liking piss far less, I accept the Budweiser.

“I knew I’d like you,” he says. Speaking softer, he leans in…

“the Bud Light is for the woman.”

“Ok,” I think, while chuckling nervously. Dodged a bullet, I guess.

Discussion Continues…

To make a long story short, he basically wants to ask if I am okay with him building a large storage shed that will be slightly visible from my yard. I couldn’t care less, and tell him so.

Phew, dodged another bullet.

At some point soon thereafter, he suddenly slips into a serious racial diatribe like a silk nightgown. I won’t use what language I remember, but it is unlike anything I’ve ever heard outside of a movie. I am deeply and immensely uncomfortable. As he speaks, his wife sits less than three feet away, taking a slow drag on a freshly-lit cigarette, her legs crossed. She exhales slowly, watching the tight stream of smoke rise, at ease. She chuckles softly at some of his claims, sometimes agreeing with a raspy voice brought on by the thousands of smoky drags of her past.

Finally, my neighbor turns to me, looks straight into my eyes with intent I’ve rarely seen, and says…

“Us in the brotherhood have to stick together. You know what I mean?”

I know what he means.

Did I jump up and toss the beer in his face?

Did I call him out as the racist piece of shit that he was and had been likely his entire life?

No. I said…

“Huh.”

Then I shuffled in my chair. After a couple more minutes “the moment” passed, and I politely excused myself.

I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t risk starting off on bad footing with a new neighbor. After all, this was our first home together in a new city. I didn’t need an enemy ten feet away. Especially not a loose cannon who made it abundantly clear that he was “well-armed.”

Nothing Has Changed

I haven’t seen that man in years. I don’t know if he died or was carted off to a nursing home. His wife still lives next door, now with her adult son (a mini-me of his father), his two teenage boys, and their three shitty dogs. You may recall my mentioning of them in this post. I can’t stand the adults and the dogs, but I’ve never once confronted them.

I regret that I didn’t stand up for my beliefs and for those who can’t. There was so much discomfort in that moment, but I’ve often wondered if my neighbors’ words have ever turned to action against someone who looks different than me. As a white guy, I had nothing really to fear. Well, so long as I didn’t stir the pot with him.

Would I do it differently today? I still don’t know. To a friend? Absolutely. To a bigoted family with guns and short fuses who live ten feet away? Ugh, I’m not sure. Unfortunately racism is often far more subtle.

I was (and still am) privileged to have the benefit of avoidance.

Hi, I’m Privileged

I’ve acknowledged my privilege, off the top of my head, here and here. And I’ve certainly railed against wasted privilege, sickened with how so much good fortune is squandered when others are born with great mountains to climb. But the baseline from where our journey begins is an elevated one. We’ve reaped many gifts of good fortune, and we can’t thank our parents enough for cultivating an environment that fostered positive support and encouragement.

I’m a white American male. Until February I had a six-figure income. But even without it, I have financial freedom, theoretically for life. You know how I’ve written that we created our own luck, and in many cases we did. But…

I mean, let’s be real…

Doesn’t my demographic put me at the top of the pecking order for all of humankind? Who is more privileged than someone like me? Maybe another white guy who is famous or powerful, but that’s about it.

I get to spend each day in a comfortable existence, rock climbing as I see fit. Paying the bills is not a concern. I step outside to a nice neighborhood, with some petty crime for sure, but frankly nothing compared to other areas even in this city. I’ve seen our neighbors nearly tear their hair out, on the verge of tears, complaining about the Section 8 housing two blocks from where we live. It’s a joke. I’m here to tell you that we live comparatively fantastic lives compared to our neighbors two blocks away. But perhaps sometimes we think we deserve better?

That said, acknowledging privilege is no longer enough.

This Week: Taking Action

I wrote some things about what I did this week, but then I deleted it. There’s no shortage of overt broadcasting to let the world know we’re not racist. But a barrage of social media messages, while an important showing of solidarity, falls far short of moving the needle. I don’t want this to be another 1,200 words to add to the growing collection of digital hand-wringing. I know progress comes from small actions and intentionality, and I hope we can all face a demon or two.

I’ve tried really hard to keep this website squeaky-clean from anything that could be remotely considered political. But I don’t know man, almost anything can be labeled as political. And if there’s one thing I’m all about, it’s tossing the status-quo bathwater out. I’m sick of watching grainy smartphone videos that leave me with a clenched and trembling jaw.

I’m not going to give you a list of things to do to help eliminate racism, because I don’t have those answers. In fact, I’m having trouble finishing this paragraph because I generally don’t write articles about topics outside of my (very) comfortable wheelhouse.

So yeah, I guess I’m just here to let you know that I’m figuring this all out too. I know I’m privileged and have always been, but I’m still sorting out the best way to connect those dots on meaningful change.

But here’s me being political: vote.

Privileged Support

Please understand my digression from the typically snarky personal finance and rock-climbing menu du jour. I just can’t sit at my keyboard and tell you to make difficult changes each week if I’m not willing to do the same.

With love,

Mr. CC