#Perspective: The complexion for connection

What is white privilege? Is it another social media catch phrase? I used to think so.

I mean, legalised slavery and Apartheid ended a long time ago. Surely #AllLivesMatter, not just black lives. I was adamant that if we treated everyone equally then everything would somehow come right. But I realise now I was missing the point.

White privilege has many layers.

It’s hundreds of years of oppression boiled down into tiny moments.

From the shampoo bottle labelled “for normal hair” to the black person being followed around the store, made to feel like a shoplifter, to being genuinely afraid when the police pull you over.

What about the people of colour who are questioned every time they walk in and out of an estate while a white person doing the same is left alone. And the security companies who question any BM walking through the residential area of Ballito.

When I walk down Townsend Road nobody looks over their fence nervously and asks their security to check out the “suspicious WF”.

In fact no one has ever questioned my right to be anywhere.

It has always been presumed.

What makes someone suspicious anyway?

I asked my black colleague if he had ever experienced this.

He uses taxis and walks to a fair amount of interviews. He tells me security company cars regularly stop and question him.

In fact the other day he was refused entry into a local estate despite having an entry code, because he was on foot. So now we are discriminating against people for not owning cars? Next thing someone is going to suggest we issue all non-residents with a book verifying their right to be in our town . . .

White privilege is not having to think about these things because they don’t confront us on a daily basis.

Our ignorance is revealed when we go to a braai and complain that white males now have the toughest time securing work because of Black Economic Empowerment.

When we complain that white students can no longer get bursaries to study at university. When we allow a person of colour to call us ‘Sir’ or ‘Madam’ . . . To quote Ygritte from George R. R. Martin’s epic fantasy novel series Game of Thrones, “You know nothing Jon Snow”.

I am Jon Snow. I’m going to own it and hopefully the realisation that I truly know nothing will be my first step towards understanding.

Not that long ago I honestly believed that white privilege did not apply to me. I studied hard at school and university and have worked hard throughout my professional career. Surely I deserve what I have earned?

A recent documentary on Netflix entitled “Hello, Privilege. It’s Me, Chelsea” by American comedian Chelsea Handler woke me up from my dream world. Handler is rather a brassy character and she tackles head-on the question of white privilege in America.

Most white people she interviewed genuinely did not believe white privilege existed but they were all squirming in their seats by the end of the conversation.

It’s hard for white people to admit that white privilege is real. It’s nice to believe that we got here based solely on our own charisma and intelligence. As Handler’s black ex-boyfriend said to her: “You have the complexion for the connection.”

I grew up in a middle income family with two hardworking parents.

They had just started their own business and money was fairly tight. But not so tight that I didn’t have a cupboard full of clothes, toys to play with and a bed to sleep in. I attended a good school and I had friends of all races.

But I never went to bed hungry. And it never crossed my mind to ask my black friend how it felt to attend a school full of white children while her mom charred as a domestic worker. Being white meant I didn’t have to.

My parents would pay for me to attend a top university.

They would also buy me my first car. When I struggled to find my first job my dad was able to get me a month as an intern at another newspaper.

Sure, that they offered me a job after that month was credit to me. But if my father hadn’t got my toe in the door I am sure my CV would have found itself lost in the pile.

Even the inspiring #I’mStaying Facebook group, which I so enjoy, gave me chills when after reading dozens of posts with a similar theme, it hit me that for many South African white people the only truly significant relationship we have with a person of colour is with the domestic worker who helped raise us.

Now these mothers are incredible people who have probably spent more time loving on their white charges than on their own children and they deserve to be celebrated. But the tragedy is that for many of us it ends there.

If we really are #StrongerTogether then I think we could start with recognising the effect of white privilege in our society and making genuine efforts to understanding life from other perspectives.

Download The North Coast Courier mobile app, now available free from the Apple iStore and on Google Play, for IOS and Android phones.