White Guilt and a Poem I Shouldn’t Write:

I hate my skin

not for the same reason as you

you are told to 

while I’m not 

I look down at my palms

translucent, 

a pinkish tinge, my veins bright, my scars clear 

and I’m not like you, but I’m not like them

This "gift" given from conception;

everything I earn, I didn’t quite work for.

Everything you get, 

you’re owed that little bit more.

And I know I should shut my mouth 

and its your topic to speak on

but I have so much to say 

the issue is I feel entitled to say it.

Dysmorphia of another kind;

I don’t want this hair of mine,

I don’t want this skin of mine, 

I don’t want this life of mine. 

I want us to get what we work for, 

I want us to love what we love, 

I want a world where none of this ever happened,

but we can’t have that.

And I’ll forever be connected 

to their fucked up mistakes

just like you are too 

but both in different ways.

You deserve to not be shot when your hands are in the air, 

and you deserve to be hired "despite" your natural hair, 

and you deserve to be loved by a society that cares,

and you deserve to be treated by your worth thats clearly there. 

But I don't need to tell you that 

you know this for yourselves.

You're smarter than they let you be 

and I hope you know I can tell.

And I also hope you know 

when I look at my pink glands 

its not my own blood that I see

on these ghostly hands.

______________________________________________________________________________________________________

DISCLAIMER: 

The idea for this blog post came from the above poem which I did write myself and while it expresses my thoughts and feelings about being white I acknowledge exactly how it sounds; like a privileged white girl whining about her privilege. Because I'm not a poet I couldn't make it any less problematic than it is in this form but because I'm an essay writer, I can explain fully what I am trying to say. This essay is more emotional than intellectual and I ask you to keep that in mind when reading the following.

The other day an Asian-Indian boy and I were having a conversation surrounding race and he made a small joke somewhere along the lines of "its because I'm black" but followed this my turning to me and saying "but I suppose you are too..". The conversation quickly moved in a different direction but for that split second I wasn't white and honestly, I didn't bother to correct him. Because I'm southern European, my ethnicity is potentially a little more allusive than I assumed it might be and so I take a small enjoyment in the knowledge that sometimes, some people (particularly people of colour) might not think of me as white. 

There is nothing truly hard about being white and until I became politically and socially aware, I barely ever thought about race something which I know cannot be said by anyone who doesn't fall into the category of "White". This blissful privilege is only one of many that I have simply from birth but what this poem was trying to articulate is the feeling that I get from knowing that just because of the way I look, I have an advantage over other people; a feeling I'm sure is comparable too (but not equal to) the one that comes from knowing that just because of the way you look, you have a disadvantage. Its incredibly frustrating that in receiving scholarships, jobs, or promotions, that my name and picture might have been the deciding factor between myself and someone who is ultimately more qualified than I am. The only thing more frustrating than receiving something you don't deserve because of a factor you can't control is NOT receiving what you worked for because of a factor you can't control. 

I've spoken to Suzanne about my feelings of "white guilt" a few times in tutorials and her initial reaction was that "it starts out as a feeling of guilt and then gradually transitions into a drive to help". While I can see this to be true, I think until racial inequality really is no longer an issue (most likely not in my lifetime) I will continue to feel this guilt not instead of, but rather alongside my motivation to make a change. 

Thinking about this entire concept (and in fact every speech, essay or poem that I write about race), I am reminded of the video we were shown in one of the older lectures where the topic of race was being discussed by all the white people in the room, and no matter how helpful they tried to be the black person in the room still was not actually allowed to speak. This is the issue of racial inequality that pops up among even the most liberal white people; we are trying so hard to talk about racial inequality that maybe sometimes we are failing to listen. I am almost certain I've been guilty of this at some point. 

Ultimately, one part of me says to myself I should not write this essay at all and tell Suzanne she's asking the wrong girl, but the other part of me says the following; when you get the opportunity to hear about the experience and feeling of people of colour first hand, shut up and listen but when the room is pumping full of racist assholes and your designated POC is not around, speak up with the knowledge you have and don't let your guilt or fear stop you from doing what you know is right; using your privileged voice to yell the words of those who are only allowed to whisper.