White privilege is a real phenomenon. I am one of its beneficiaries. Unlike Jay Fleitman, I don’t think that recognizing white privilege means that my life was a cocktail party.
My white privilege didn’t place me in a fancy private school. I attended public schools in Bridgeport, Connecticut. It didn’t stop a few of my schoolmates from calling me a dirty Jew. It didn’t stop me from having to work at a series of jobs, 20 hours per week throughout my college years and full-time each summer.
One favorite job was operating a busy, old-fashioned switchboard, plugging in the long cords to let people communicate. My least favorite job was bothering people at dinnertime, trying to sell Time Life books over the phone.
My white privilege did not stop me from having to take out student loans in addition to the jobs. But when I’m driving in an unfamiliar area and stop into a diner for a cup of coffee, I am not immediately perceived as dangerous.
Years ago an African-American friend told me that he “must have a criminal face” because whenever he went into a store, the guard would start following him. That doesn’t happen to me.
Many years ago my son befriended a very rich boy at their summer camp. At Christmastime my son and I went to visit his friend in one of the wealthiest neighborhoods in Manhattan. We entered the building and mentioned the name of the friend we were there to see. The doorman just pointed to the elevator. Somehow, I don’t think that would have happened if we had been Haitian or Dominican.
Recently, I foolishly drove away from my house without properly clearing the ice from my rear windshield. A police officer pulled me over, gave me a well-deserved scolding, and let me scratch off the ice and drive on. The interaction just might have been more fraught if I had been African-American.
The difficulties that Dr. Fleitman has had to overcome in life do not mean that he has not benefited, as I have, from white privilege.
Henry W. Rosenberg
Northampton