White privilege makes me feel sickened.
Jaime Misky,
Milwaukee, WI
I chose these six words because they have been a harsh reality I have learned as I grew up. From K4-5th grade, I went to a school in which I was very much a minority. Though many teachers were white and there were classmates who shared the same skin color, most of my peers did not look like me. However, this is not something I ever really thought about. I did not see color. My classmates were my friends. We played together at recess, shared stories and secrets, braided each other’s hair, jumped rope, held hands, and simply loved one another for the people we were. The best part was having the opportunity to experience these changes together. The following years brought significant learning curves from every side. We shared tough conversations that were ultimately life-altering. Through talking to one another we learned about each other’s cultures, the foods our mom’s like to cook, our different religions, the injustice blacks face in America especially, all spectrums of racism, white privilege, and more. We learned respect. In finally acknowledging our differences, and learning our common ground, we better understood one another and could more fluidly look past those differences to the people we knew before the prejudices of the world came crashing down on us.
I learned that it is important to see color and to recognize my own privilege; it is my duty to use my advantage to reach out a hand and help and be a voice for those who do not share my privilege. I learned to be confident in my beliefs, and to be unafraid to stand up for myself, others, and those beliefs. I learned a greater respect for every human being, no matter what. My high school experience at an all girls Catholic school brought many challenges, especially in regards to race and how far I was willing to go to stand up for my beliefs and the people I loved. This environment was drastically different, as I was one of many white people who looked a lot like me, and very few young women of color. I was now walking the halls, talking to, and becoming friends with girls who I knew varied in perception of the world, as they had had a different upbringing than I had had. I knew many of these girls were very well off and many held conservative and more traditional views. Through many experiences over the past four years, I have learned more than ever to respectfully have a conversation with someone who is drastically different than I am regarding politics, race, religion, gender, sex, money, and other controversial topics. There were many times I overheard or was directly targeted with negative dialogue regarding these issues. It was a significant reality check of just how privileged white people feel they are in this world, and how institutionally and ingrained in every part of life in America, white privilege is. My six word essay means exactly what it states: white privilege makes me sick. It is a part of life I wish I could erase and make it so that all people, no matter what, had equal opportunities and chances in having a successful life in the United States. I am hopeful, but apprehensive. I want to live out the ever-cliché concept of being the change I wish to see in the world; however, I know it is not simply as easy as that. I will, however, do everything in my power to make the world a more equal place. I will continue to evolve, as I continue my education in and outside the classroom. Though I am aware of the hatred this world can hold, I also see its beauty, unity, and hope. Maybe someday, white privilege will be nonexistent. I sure hope so.
Ever had sex in the backseat?
Earlaine Williams,
Oakland, CA.
This is the question that was asked of me, when I was 17 years old, by the white man who was administering the driver test at the Depratment of Motor Vehicles in Richmond, CA in 1960.
I was behind the wheel and he was the person who would determine whether or not I received my driver permit. The bigger issue was my level of fear being alone on the road with this person.
I am NOT just a statistic
Jeannine Chavez,
Huntington Park, CA.
As a United States citizen who lives in Los Angeles as a gay Mexican female, it has limited my privileges. Being a different race, sex, and having a different sexuality than others have all caused me to be oppressed and quite often hear remarks about these three social identities that people perceive me by. Racism, sexism, and homophobia are things i have to deal with on the daily because i’m not in compliance with society. Just because I am a gay Mexican female and not a straight white male, I get judged everyday by several people but I always keep in mind that I am special and unique. Society teaches us to be prejudice of how people look and act but in reality there is more to that then just appearances.
It’s Okay To Talk About Race
Courtnay S.,
Arlington, VA.
Why are we so uncomfortable talking about racial privilege? Does anyone shy away from saying they are privileged because of their income, sex, language, or education? Western privilege exists. English-speaking privilege exists. On that same token, white privilege exists. It is okay to have money, to be male, to be American, or to have a bachelor’s degree. On the same token, it is okay to be white. But it is not okay to ignore the implications of racial privilege simply because it makes some people feel guilty or angry. So let’s do it. Let’s start trying to fix the disparities in the country (and across the globe). Let’s get uncomfortable together.
Is my character like Christ’s?
Christos Victor,
USA.
moment of my conception,
my gifts and talents,
my sex and pigmentation;
i chose them—
just like you did…
history i studied,
listened and learned.
every tribe and nation conquered,
defeated its neighbors
at one time or another.
the subdued were enslaved.
some recently emancipated
now claim there must be
full reparations for lives stolen.
how many millennia do we redress?
I, the son of slaves,
my mother nearly died
starving, pleading
as Hitler subjugated
peaceful, weaker neighbors
my father was of age
spent over a year hiding,
avoiding detection—
by Hitler’s decree,
destined for factory slavery.
before that my people…
those serfs and rabble
for generations uncounted,
pigments too light to matter.
no one hears our complaint.
legal immigrants to foreign lands,
strange languages learned,
old customs and traditions
ill-fitting and so discarded,
a culture too small to count.
enjoying disability’s challenge
genetic codes so uncaring
yet I’m thankful for God’s provision—
my privilege is to love God and others
as Christ selflessly loves me.
watching refugees flee terror,
a child’s body washing up on a beach.
your protest… do their lives matter?
now where is your lament?
will you forgive as you are forgiven?
Being singled out is painful
Lina,
Denver, CO.
Being here makes me aware of how different I am, that I am female, I am Asian. People would never consider me to partake in their social life. The only people who talk to me are men who want to get in my pants. I hope this is not applicable to most Asian females out there. It is too painful. It really is.
I’ve grown to hate white people.
Chiyoko,
USA.
I am one quarter Japanese. I have auburn hair, light brown eyes, and freckles. I am five foot nine, and my skin is paler than even my white friends’ skin. But my name is Japanese, which leads people to ask me where I’m from, no, where I’m REALLY from. I’ve been called J*p, Chink, Chinky eyes, squinty eyes, and J*p Bi***. A White boy came up to me when I was thirteen and asked me for oral sex, because “that’s what you people like to do, right?” I have been told to my face that the only reason I’m doing well in school (I’m seventeen and starting my second year of community college) is because I’m Asian. Even when I was in second grade, white people would come up to me with their eyes pulled to side and asked how I could see like that. White people have come up to me and called me Ching Chong Lingalong instead of Chiyoko. White people are the ones calling me names and making me fear for my safety in middle and high school. But what truly surprised me is how Japanese people treat me. I met a Japanese woman at my garage sale, and when I spoke some Japanese to her, she was surprised, but was genuinely interested in me. She told my mother that she picked a good name for me, and that I seemed to be a good daughter, making my mother laugh and tell her that seem is the operative word. Whenever I meet a Japanese person, they encourage me to study Japanese, to go to japan, and take good care of my grandmother. I am more white than Japanese, but white people have hated me all the time. I am not a racist, it is my defense mechanism.
Nor for your race and sex.
Matthew Koebbe
Huntington Beach, CA
I am a white male who heard those words from a University of California financial aid officer after asking about all those unclaimed scholarships and grants we always hear about. At the time, I thanked the woman for her honesty, but afterwards it occurred to me that no one should ever hear those words.
A white minority during my youth.
Jean Millard
Milford, MI
I wanted to be part of the black culture around me because I could see the tight family ties they had. I was bullied by the kids I wanted to connect with. I remember when the first black family moved into the neighborhood. I was shocked by the comments I heard from the neighbors. I could not understand why the new family was judged by their skin color. They had done nothing wrong.
But has anyone asked me how I feel before they assume I am a black hater?
No. I am me and you are you. No color, no sex, no culture, no size, no religion, no class. Using our brains and not what media or what “history” tells us, to learn more about the person in front of us. We might even make a new friend.




