Every time I hear the term "white privilege," I wonder how I missed out on all the extra opportunities that term implies.  Growing up in a rat- and roach-infested tenement on the lower east side of Manhattan in the 1950s didn't seem to me as though I was being pampered because of my skin color.  My six siblings and I dealt with the usual challenges of poverty in low-income areas.  The building in which we lived was probably a hundred years old.  It had a coal furnace in the basement to provide hot water, occasionally, if someone had shoveled bituminous energy into that blazing underground chamber.  We were raised by what's characterized today as "a single mom."  In those days, I suppose, it was simply stated as "a family without a breadwinner."  Our father abandoned us at an early age, forcing our mom to resort to welfare, known back then as "relief."

Although there were black residents throughout the neighborhood, along with Jews, Hispanics, and a few Asians, they were obviously better off financially than we were.  That's because blacks, in those days, probably had more intact families than they have today.  I won't get into the reasons for their broken homes today, but if I did, I'd say it's because liberal politicians need them to be dependent in order to keep them as a significant part of their voter base.  I don't remember ever seeing any black residents in that crumbling edifice that housed us, a dump that could have easily won the award for the worst human containment area in the city.

Yet the government was constructing many tall buildings, just a couple of blocks from me, in a large area along the East River that would come to be known as "The Projects."  Residency in those new structures, equipped with elevators, secure entrances to each building, doorbells to contact residents, garbage disposal units on every floor, and a scenic view of what was back then a picturesque seascape, was reserved mainly for blacks.  Given that I went to school with blacks, played stickball on the street with blacks, exercised on the "parallel and horizontal bars" in Tompkins Square Park with blacks, and engaged with them in every other conceivable activity, it never occurred to me to feel resentment for them because their living accommodations were much better than mine.

We didn't have many material things, but we had a mom who taught us to treat everyone equally.  The "Golden Rule" was a major part of our in-home education.  When I was old enough to have my first steady job, I worked as a clerk for the Post Office.  It was the early sixties, and race was becoming a hot political issue.  Affirmative action programs gave blacks a boost in education, jobs, and any other endeavor that would raise their lifestyle.  Although I was aware of this advantage being given to blacks, I just figured I'd have to work harder to overcome the extra points they were receiving on promotional exams and other privileges that were not available to me.

I suppose it was because I never developed that self-corrupting sin known as envy.  In Catholicism, envy is one of the seven deadly sins.  I never spent a minute of my life wanting what someone else had.  I knew intuitively that we are the masters of our own future.  My siblings and I used our God-given talents and our mother's precious love to raise ourselves out of that gloomy environment and become productive members of society.

We don't have to proclaim how open-minded we are or how many black friends we have.  I feel certain that such offerings come only from those who may be struggling with a coloration ambivalence due to their lack of social interaction with other races.  However, it's not as though we're the only whites who feel this way.  Millions of decent, God-fearing Americans don't have a scintilla of racial bias in their DNA.  It is precisely their lack of bigotry that makes them resent being called racists, merely because they have less skin pigmentation than their darker friends and neighbors.  Nevertheless, those who seek to divide us will continue to fuel resentment between the races with accusations of white supremacy, white privilege, and other spurious appellations.

Thanks to my early religious instruction, I have faith that good will always win out over evil.  As my mom would say, "with the help of God, people will learn to love each other."

Image via Picryl.