At ITT training on Sunday, we did a step-forward/step-back game. Brad read off a list of statements which seemed to be statements about privilege. I was aware that I stepped backward a little more frequently than I stepped forward. Sometimes I didn't get to move at all. I was aware of a lot of shuffling around me as well--my eyes were closed so I wasn't sure. When I opened my eyes, I was surprised at the number of people in front of me. Astonished, actually. I thought that probably everyone had experienced at least some of the things that I had. Surely everyone has been laughed at or ridiculed because of their body, right? Surely everyone has had to skip a meal or two when money was tight, right? Surely it took everyone a moment or two to decide if their parents really told them that they could be anything they wanted. Right?
Wrong. I don't consider myself an unhappy person. I don't consider myself to be a person who has led an unfortunate sort of life. I didn't expect so many people to be so far out in front of me. I didn't expect to see the pain in Emily's face when we locked eyes from opposite ends of the room. I didn't expect her to cry and to apologize. I didn't expect to have to hold her and tell her that she has no reason to apologize but many reasons to be aware. I've never been aware that so many people had so many more benefits and privileges than myself because I consider myself to be pretty damn privileged.
It blew my mind. It was painful to see Emily so hurt. I saw it, felt it, heard it emanating off of her and out of her. This scared little girl voice that just said, "I'm sorry that people like me have hurt people like you." I wanted to hold her forever and pet her hair and tell her that I don't mind. I wanted time enough to empower her to use her privilege for good--to keep herself healthy and happy enough to give some of her light to others when they need it. I didn't want her to feel so hurt or so ashamed of her privilege. It can be a painful thing to realize for the first time that you have access to more resources and opportunities than the people you love and the people you view as peers and the people you respect and look up to. It can be devastating. I hope that the experience was valuable and that I was able to help her process some of that shock and frame it in a healthy way. She's never abused her privilege and is nothing but generous--I hope she doesn't still feel called out or ashamed.
I'm still trying to process my position in that room. I take such ownership of my size and my appearance that I rarely notice any of it as an "abnormality" or "outlier" position. I don't feel much of anything other than a distanced curiosity. A kind of, "Huh. How 'bout that." I feel the lack of feeling. I wonder if that's healthy? That detachment?
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