An Uncomfortable Discourse: My white, male reflection on privilege and social justice after teaching for 3 years in the South Bronx

A few weeks ago I had dinner with my friend from Colorado who I haven't seen in over two years. We sat down together, along with her cousin and another acquaintance, for a long dinner at one of the many warm, lively Italian restaurants situated in Manhattan's West Village. The conversation was engaging. The food was excellent. The wine was abundant. However, it was throughout the meal and during my solitary commute home that I realized how much I have changed over the past three years, a result of my personal journey into the field of urban education, and more broadly, social justice in America.

While my companions vaguely discussed their roles and responsibilities in the work force, ambitious sounding titles like project manager and operations director for digital broadcast marketing, roles that send them far and wide on business expensed trips to expand markets and drive revenue, my mind was caught in an uncomfortable internal discourse. 



This conversation is a distraction, a casual back and forth skating over our superficial selves and completely unaware of the larger, more pressing social issues that surround us. Sexy sounding jobs, buffalo mozzarella, the linguistic connotations of the phrase "being in a relationship"; these topics evade all inconvenient societal truths and the implicit responsibilities that we must assume. We are ignoring so much.

That's not fair Josh. This is exactly the type of conversation that A LOT of the people you love have every day. It's actually pretty nice. This is the type of conversation YOU used to have daily without any discomfort. It is not okay for you to think or act "holier than thou", to cast any judgment, to dwell in incredulity. Step down from the soap box.

But I want to scream. I want to put a halt to the pleasantries and inject my new perception of reality. Our fantastic educations have afforded us a place at this table, while children all over the country are straight up denied this privilege due to a host of failing institutions, contributing to a big ass achievement gap, despite the fact that we know children of color are 100% cognitively equal to their white peers (us). Countless individuals are living in extreme poverty, like the 50,000 plus homeless in New York City, or the 1 in 3 families in the South Bronx living below the poverty line. Women all over the world are subjected to ridiculous disparities of power, which manifest themselves in cruel and dehumanizing ways, like sex trafficking and unchallenged domestic violence, or more subtle oppressions contributing to inequitable earnings nationwide. Over 2 million humans are locked in the cages of our federal prisons or under control of the U.S. corrections system, up from 300,000, following a 30 year War on Drugs that systematically targets, detains and discriminates against people of color. 

Ok, but, like... That stuff is depressing. And what can I do about it? Can't we just enjoy our meal without proselytizing about poverty, inequity and social justice? Can't we just ignore it and enjoy this pleasant moment, talking about past adventures and newfound love and what a great city this is? Can't we just enjoy our privilege and ignore the rest of it? It's not our fault after all.

No. We can't. Because here's the thing. If you know about these injustices, even if you only know a little bit, and you fail to seek more information,  you fail to engage in meaningful discussions, you fail to seek solutions, you fail to take action, you fail to make it better, you fail to act with compassion and empathy and justice, you fail them. Human beings who are, right now, perpetually subjected to discomfort by systems that we complacently accept from our pleasant dinner tables.

Dude, seriously, too much. You can't put the burden of the world on me. It's not my fault. I like my nice life and I worked hard for it and I help out a little bit and that has to be enough. I can't "change the world" and it's futile to try. 

It's not. People do it every day all over the planet. We make a human impact. It takes courage and conviction. It takes a conscious and often imperfect rejection of the fallacies preached daily by marketing agencies and media sources about what matters in life, what happiness looks like, what success is and how certain people are. It takes a community comprised of dedicated individuals. I can do it. You can do it. We can do it.



These were my thoughts, in so many words, as the evening wore on, transcribed for you here. But I am reluctant to share this with the world. I am afraid of offending anyone, casting judgments or creating waves. I also fear that I am full of shit. Some suburban white kid turned activist trying on a noble identity for a time before burning out and assimilating back into the majority culture of power. West Village dinners are pretty nice after all. 

In my case, I guess we'll see how it turns out. In the meantime, I want to get this message out. 

So here it is. If you're white, or a man, or wealthy(ish), or educated, or have some form of privilege like me, and you've never really thought that critically about it, or the systems of oppression that exist today, I urge you to take a closer look, to take action, to empower the world and to uphold human rights for all people. It starts with knowledge. Educate yourself and discuss it with others. Embrace tough questions and lean in to the discomfort they will inevitably cause. Second, don't feel guilty about the existence of systems you did not create. Instead, feel inspired to change them. And finally, ground yourself in love, patience and the wisdom that no great achievement or change ever occurred without a good, long fight,  a dedicated community and a whole lot of courage. 

I hope this message doesn't hurt my good friend, who I still care about deeply and would do anything for. I enjoyed our dinner together and am so proud of her and her career success. She is amazing. I also hope it doesn't hurt any of the other people in my life who I know and love, but are not actively thinking about or working toward social justice in all its forms (at least not yet). Finally, while I hope these things, I also know that sometimes evolving lives can cause individuals to grow apart. As painful as that may be, I cannot deny the man I am today.

I am changed. 

Further Reading - In addition to my experience working as a teacher in the South Bronx for the past three years, the following sources have increased my awareness of social justice issues, both nationally and internationally. I encourage you to read or watch any of the following, in an effort to consider the social disparities that exist today, and how we may work collaboratively to eliminate all inequitable systems. 

Comments

Anthony Martin said…
Josh,

I applaud your bravery--this kind of self-reflexive writing, one that does not shy away from the potential that someone might take offense, is difficult.

And make no mistake: not everyone will respond well to this. You might wager that those people are the ones who did not read your text in its entirety, or did not read it actively--did not engage with your ideas.

Were they to do so, they would quickly discern the line you are walking here (between complacence born of white privilege and the disgust with complacence that comes from experience and knowledge), executed brilliantly thanks to your dichotomous, internal dialogue structure.

Here's a lie: I've never slouched back and sipped my drink and said Can't I just enjoy this?

Here's another: I spend more time thinking about the well being of others than I do my own.

Here's something true: I'm aware of my lies.

Your work here strikes a chord that has been struck before, and reminds me that I need to keep striking it, over and over, if I have any hope of being better. I suspect your work here and, more importantly, the knowledge and experience that underlies it, will help make sure this message continues to reverberate among any crowd open to receiving it.

They're listening, Josh, because you aren't speaking the "holier than thou" language--you can't be. You are in the trenches living it. Show me the man that points the "holier than thou" finger at a brave piece of writing like this, and I'll show you a man that hasn't taken the time to make a fearless inventory as you have here.

--AM
June 4, 2014 at 5:12 PM
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