#9 On Privilege, Part One

What is it and why are we hung up on it?

One word has been rolling around in my head a lot: privilege.

It is constantly weaving into my conversations with friends and neighbors — a disclaimer that wraps up a lot of our thoughts, worries, complaints, and ruminations. When I talk about some of the annoying, naggy bits of having my mom stay with us for an extended period of time, I attach the footnote that I am privileged to have a mom around who cares enough to insert herself into my life. When I wrote about choosing to care for my kids full-time, I acknowledge the privilege of having a partner who could provide the financial security for our family. Whenever I have a really challenging day minding the kids, I remind myself that it is an incredibly random privilege that my body was able to birth four healthy children.

So what exactly is privilege?

In a traditional sense, “privilege” is a special right that is reserved for select people — an obvious example being the attorney-client privilege. In this sense, privilege is something narrow in scope, and doesn’t carry any moral bearing. It is also binary in that you can more or less classify something as privileged or not.

But more commonly, we have come to use the word “privilege” as a fuzzy yardstick on which we gauge how fortunate we are. It has become entirely relational. We talk about “underprivileged” communities, but it’s not clear what line these communities fall “under”. Colloquially, we tend to identify and label privilege in others and in ourselves as a way to acknowledge where we fall on that fuzzy yardstick in relation to others.

This second, relational use of the word “privilege” is where I’m feeling some discomfort these days.

On the one hand, acknowledging your own privilege — whether that’s in race, health, wealth, or something else — is a good thing to do. At a basic level, it’s self-awareness. It’s an essential part of feeling gratitude for what you have and the fortunate position you’re in. (Though let’s be clear that there is no equivalence between feeling gratitude and acknowledging privilege; gratitude isn’t predicated on having more of something in relation to someone else.)

Acknowledging privilege is also foundational to meaningful discourse on equity. Explicitly acknowledging white privilege has been a cornerstone of the Black Lives Matter movement. Identifying the inherent advantages of neurotypical kids is foundational to achieving educational equity for neurodiverse children.

Naming privilege is a good, necessary thing. It is a tool for shining a light on the otherwise invisible structural forces that advantage some and not others.

The perils of fixating on privilege

The pervasiveness of this discourse on privilege has infiltrated my brain to such an extent that I sometimes feel trapped.

For one, I’m constantly measuring my fortune on this fuzzy yardstick to figure out where I stand. Am I under- or over-? Do I have to fight for more or sheepishly apologize for my good fortune? Even when I’m unloading what’s on my mind with my closest, most intimate friends, I do this mental exercise of figuring out and acknowledging my points of privilege. It’s exhausting. And more recently I’ve started wondering if it’s to an end that is nothing but… performative.

It also strikes me that discourse on privilege often divides us, and in the process, we lose out on the human experience of empathy.

When we see exceptional success in women and especially mothers, we are often quick to chalk it up to privilege. I remember when Marissa Mayer became CEO of Yahoo while being pregnant, there was a flurry of commentary that she was able to do it because of her privilege of being able to build a nursery next to her office and having hired help around the clock. Well, good for her. But at the same time that we acknowledged her numerous innate advantages as a white woman Stanford graduate with means and connections, did we also acknowledge that she was a new mom, appointed to the helm of a giant tech company, doing what she had to do to get it done as best as she could?

And when we acknowledge our own points of privilege, we sometimes hide behind it because we fear that our experience won’t be relevant or valuable to those who don’t enjoy the same. Personally, I think about this every week as I write this newsletter. How can I write about "enjoying motherhood when I’m a highly educated woman with means who didn’t have to try too hard to birth four children? How can I write about building a business to be lean and small when my financial security and my family’s future doesn’t depend on its growth? How can I process and share the hardships and disappointments I experienced throughout the pandemic, when ultimately, my family and I are fine, and millions of people have suffered so much? I find myself thinking that if someone doesn’t share the same privileges as I do, I have nothing worthy to share with them. I often feel trapped by my own professed privilege.

How privilege is shaping my life

Privilege isn’t something you strive towards. It’s also something you can’t rid yourself of. (If you can rid yourself of certain privileges, that ability is precisely the result of your privilege, so you’re still left being privileged.) It is something you acknowledge in your life if it’s there, acknowledge its absence if it’s not.

I’m starting to think that there are healthy boundaries when talking about privilege. My place on that fuzzy yardstick doesn’t make me who I am. It doesn’t limit my potential or my impact. Outwardly acknowledging my privilege doesn’t necessarily serve anyone, but inwardly reflecting on my many advantages will feed into my gratitude practice.

I realize I have sometimes accused others of privilege, as if it’s a crime they have unknowingly committed, and I now wonder if that is ever helpful or constructive. When someone is unaware of their own privilege, whether in a personal or professional setting, I think it’s on us to invite them to consider it, especially from the perspective of someone who doesn’t enjoy the same. But ultimately, I cannot force anyone to see something they are unwilling to see.

One thing I continue to wrestle with is how I parent my kids that enjoy so many more privileges than I did. I have this deep anxiety about my kids growing up privileged. It feels uncomfortable for me. I grew up as the immigrant Asian kid whose dad ran the video rental shop in the rough part of town. My kids will grow up as the offspring of Ivy League educated lawyers who met working at a big corporate law firm in Manhattan…

That, and more, coming next week. This topic requires a Part Two…

p.s. I recently recorded a conversation with Marisa Renee Lee, author of Grief is Love, that I am excited to share soon. Stay tuned!