By Jim Wright
“I’ll tell you what’s at the bottom of it. If you can convince the lowest white man he’s better than the best colored man, he won’t notice you’re picking his pocket. Hell, give him somebody to look down on, and he’ll empty his pockets for you.”
— President Lyndon Johnson, as recorded by staffer Bill Moyers, 1964, while campaigning for the Civil Rights Act
Your privilege is showing
That’s what she said.
I was talking about optimism on Twitter and she cut me off. Your privilege is showing, she said.
Yes, I agreed. My point being that … and she dismissed anything else I had to say and blocked me to prevent any further conversation. And that, as they say, was the end of that.
And that was her privilege, I guess.
But, I’m getting ahead of myself.
Your privilege is showing.
Fair enough, I suppose.
I mean, it’s true. I am privileged. I’m white, male, and straight. And more.
What? You think I don’t know that?
Heh heh. Right.
Let me tell it long, since that’s what I’m best at anyway.
My mom is a child of The Great Depression. And this begins there, in that time.
My mom’s dad kept a journal. Every day of his life, my grandfather would enter at least one line in his journal, the weather, any money that he’d made, jobs he’d done, people he’d met. Unlike his grandson, he wasn’t long-winded. He typically wrote just that one line each day, a brief summary and no more. They don’t say much, each of those entries individually, but taken together they speak volumes. Literally. He left behind a dozen diaries at the end of his long life.
Those journals were passed down to his children when he died. My mother – the family historian – has gone …read more
Via:: Stone Kettle Station