The Secret of White Privilege
Too many poor people play the victim card. This statement may seem harsh, but as a child I was poor and today I’m not. Is it because I’m white that I’m no longer poor? No. I would argue that it’s because of the decisions my parents made when I was very young, that set me up for success. Decisions don’t have a color. Privilege, or lack of it, comes from your parents.
Parents who send their children to subpar schools or live in high crime, drug infested communities are setting their kids up for failure. I’m sure that’s not their intent, but it’s the reality. The sad and dangerous living conditions of too many poor urban children are a particular source of frustration for me. The same can be said of rural children living in abject poverty in southern, mountain communities and impoverished small towns. These parents are failing their children and the kids grow up wondering why their family has it so tough and look for someone to blame. This has now manifested itself in protests and hostile rhetoric on the streets, on college campuses and in the media. It’s a hard thing to do to take an honest assessment of your parents; to see them for the human beings they are, flawed. And to stop blaming.
The secret of “white privilege” is one word, relocation. All over America, responsible parents move to homes or apartments in the best school district they can afford and their child’s life and future is brighter as a result. In the 1970’s, in South Florida, my unemployed, recently divorced mother moved me and my three brothers from a nice pool-home in a declining school district to a meager, two-bedroom apartment in the best school district in the county, ten miles away.
Her decision to relocate has been described by some historians as contributing to “White Flight,” the departure of whites from places increasingly populated by minorities to the suburbs. But I know for a fact that my mother didn’t move because of anyone’s skin color. She moved because crime and gangs were moving in. Forty-one years later statistics prove she made the right move. The chance of becoming a victim of violent crime in Miramar - the city we moved away from - is 1 in 301 people today, according to Neighborhoodscout.com. As a benchmark, the Florida average is 1 in 217. She moved us to Cooper City and in comparison, the chance of becoming a victim of violent crime there today is dramatically less; 1 in 1,072 people. Moving to Cooper City in 1976 was the smartest thing my mother did for us kids. Our new apartment may have been dim but our futures became brighter. Her decision to relocate her family became my privilege.
My mom never smoked, drank alcohol or used drugs. She worked full-time and was even a volunteer firefighter during my formative teenage years. Occasionally, she would apply for food stamps or we’d visit a local food pantry, but my mother was proud and as soon as she was able, usually just a few weeks later, she would stop accepting the charity. I’ve been working since I was 15 years old, primarily to buy clothes so that I would “fit in” in high school and could pay for my lunch with cash because I was too embarrassed to use my free lunch card. I saw early on that the only way out of poverty for me was to attain a college education and avoid pregnancy. By the time I was 23, after becoming vested, I cashed in my 401K at Winn-Dixie where I had worked for seven years and bought my first townhouse.
It’s in the choices parents make for their children that count the most. Chronic poverty, I believe, stems from fear or lack of willingness to leave a familiar place and start anew. Commitment to your child should trump commitment to your community. Any healthy, adult can change their circumstances by changing their address; it is not a freedom restricted for only whites. There are thousands of organizations and churches all across America willing to help people get resettled, if asked.
I don’t buy into the argument that people can’t move because they don’t have the money. My dad, at age 20, changed his address by swimming the Baltic Sea to escape communist East Germany in 1964. If he were caught, he would have been killed. He landed in West Germany with no money in his swim trunks and was employed two weeks later at a dairy. He wasn’t picky; he took the first job that came along. He worked hard, saved some money, came to America and had a regular middle-class life. It was a Lutheran church in Ohio that sponsored my dad to come over. This church, my dad’s experiences and his stories about growing up under a suppressive regime became my privilege.
Young, healthy people of any and all backgrounds need to step up and participate in a vibrant US economy. Participation through honest work is every adult’s obligation to society. Choosing otherwise is a transgression against your neighbor. Any legal job, no matter how low paying, is an honorable job. It’s a start to a new life. If you don’t like your current situation, it’s up to you to change it, for yourself and the next generation.
Parents who send their children to subpar schools or live in high crime, drug infested communities are setting their kids up for failure. I’m sure that’s not their intent, but it’s the reality. The sad and dangerous living conditions of too many poor urban children are a particular source of frustration for me. The same can be said of rural children living in abject poverty in southern, mountain communities and impoverished small towns. These parents are failing their children and the kids grow up wondering why their family has it so tough and look for someone to blame. This has now manifested itself in protests and hostile rhetoric on the streets, on college campuses and in the media. It’s a hard thing to do to take an honest assessment of your parents; to see them for the human beings they are, flawed. And to stop blaming.
The secret of “white privilege” is one word, relocation. All over America, responsible parents move to homes or apartments in the best school district they can afford and their child’s life and future is brighter as a result. In the 1970’s, in South Florida, my unemployed, recently divorced mother moved me and my three brothers from a nice pool-home in a declining school district to a meager, two-bedroom apartment in the best school district in the county, ten miles away.
Her decision to relocate has been described by some historians as contributing to “White Flight,” the departure of whites from places increasingly populated by minorities to the suburbs. But I know for a fact that my mother didn’t move because of anyone’s skin color. She moved because crime and gangs were moving in. Forty-one years later statistics prove she made the right move. The chance of becoming a victim of violent crime in Miramar - the city we moved away from - is 1 in 301 people today, according to Neighborhoodscout.com. As a benchmark, the Florida average is 1 in 217. She moved us to Cooper City and in comparison, the chance of becoming a victim of violent crime there today is dramatically less; 1 in 1,072 people. Moving to Cooper City in 1976 was the smartest thing my mother did for us kids. Our new apartment may have been dim but our futures became brighter. Her decision to relocate her family became my privilege.
My mom never smoked, drank alcohol or used drugs. She worked full-time and was even a volunteer firefighter during my formative teenage years. Occasionally, she would apply for food stamps or we’d visit a local food pantry, but my mother was proud and as soon as she was able, usually just a few weeks later, she would stop accepting the charity. I’ve been working since I was 15 years old, primarily to buy clothes so that I would “fit in” in high school and could pay for my lunch with cash because I was too embarrassed to use my free lunch card. I saw early on that the only way out of poverty for me was to attain a college education and avoid pregnancy. By the time I was 23, after becoming vested, I cashed in my 401K at Winn-Dixie where I had worked for seven years and bought my first townhouse.
It’s in the choices parents make for their children that count the most. Chronic poverty, I believe, stems from fear or lack of willingness to leave a familiar place and start anew. Commitment to your child should trump commitment to your community. Any healthy, adult can change their circumstances by changing their address; it is not a freedom restricted for only whites. There are thousands of organizations and churches all across America willing to help people get resettled, if asked.
I don’t buy into the argument that people can’t move because they don’t have the money. My dad, at age 20, changed his address by swimming the Baltic Sea to escape communist East Germany in 1964. If he were caught, he would have been killed. He landed in West Germany with no money in his swim trunks and was employed two weeks later at a dairy. He wasn’t picky; he took the first job that came along. He worked hard, saved some money, came to America and had a regular middle-class life. It was a Lutheran church in Ohio that sponsored my dad to come over. This church, my dad’s experiences and his stories about growing up under a suppressive regime became my privilege.
Young, healthy people of any and all backgrounds need to step up and participate in a vibrant US economy. Participation through honest work is every adult’s obligation to society. Choosing otherwise is a transgression against your neighbor. Any legal job, no matter how low paying, is an honorable job. It’s a start to a new life. If you don’t like your current situation, it’s up to you to change it, for yourself and the next generation.
Comments