Today, it’s oft socially progressive to also be aware of the privileges allotted to some combination of your various identities/ethnicities/sub-cultures. I’m going to take a little time to define the privileges afforded [and a few costly, mostly self-imposed, ceilings] to me and try to reconcile the wonderful things and opportunities for which I’ve been blessed with, against my struggles to take advantage of how richly I had it, and how that has reinvigorated my drive and ambition.
There are big privileges and small privileges. To start I was raised in an upper middle class family in a safe and wealthy community, to parents who not only had the money to cover all our needs, but also valued education and self-improvement and supported with love and opportunity.
But I also have clean water right out of my sink! Hell, my toilet flushes cleaner than the drinking water available to large percentages of the world. I’ve never known the horrors of war or starvation. I have money in my pocket, and security in my home and person. I can call police if I’m threatened. I have a wonderful and deep support system of friends and family and coworkers. These are tremendous privileges. These are things that I take so for granted I forget that others don’t have nearly that level of inherent security.
And then there are the small privileges, that still I often overlook. I’m a straight male in a white society that more easily accepts heterosexuality and has a history of patriarchy.
In the modern history that is highly influenced by Caucasians, I have minor privileges, like being a “model minority”.
And it doesn’t matter that I had all these amazing gifts. I still struggled. Real and terrible struggles. I faced the dark sides of discrimination and not fitting in. I felt uncomfortable being who I was, faced difficulties reconciling the culture at home to the culture of the community I faced each day. I had trouble knowing what norms I valued, an amalgamation of my environment and the things I wanted to be. Those struggles hurt. I didn’t face them with integrity or honor or openness. Instead I often lashed out at the very people who were trying to be my support system and defied any authority.
Not only did I act immaturely and foolishly, I also thought selfishly. I thought I was the only person ever to face my problems. I thought that no one had it quite as hard as I did. I deftly raged against the unfair world that made me question my own worth, blissfully unaware of the extent I had it made, and frankly unwilling to really face the facts that didn’t coincide with my angst.
That’s not saying self-created problems aren’t real problems. It is truly hard to be the child of immigrants. And definitely my self-consciousness, plus some not great treatment by parts of the community at large were real struggles. I had to work to overcome my problems I had with myself and learn how to showcase those solutions to the society at large. Talking and listening and learning from teachers, coaches, peers, and role models helped me traverse my mountains. I’m so grateful to the support that I had, especially those who stayed through the most difficult times defying conventional logic given my attitude.
It’s now time to return to the grind. I’ve been given so much, and I’m so fortunate and thankful. I ought to make the most of it. I wasn’t nearly as motivated or committed in the past. And being aware of the gifts somehow makes me want to work harder. That’s the ambition. It’s somehow expanded my ambition. I have been given so much; I ought to make a huge difference. Really try to help people more. I’ve given a couple hours to volunteer this year. And a near a hundred to charities. But yes. More. More.
At the end, I’ve been far from perfect. I squandered plenty unearned opportunities. And for most of my adolescence, deaf to the advice of elders. But it’s okay. I’ve extended forgiveness to my younger self, and vow to take consistent steps forward and remember that it wasn’t only me that got here. And if I can return the favors that were offered to me, I hope I will.