This to me is really at the heart of what I think of as white privilege. I’m sure I’m wrong, and I’m sure people who experience the sharp end of the stick have a different idea. To me, the ability to laugh off these types of encounters let’s me move past them, and get on with my day. “Sorry, my bad”; or we’re all buddies, and when you pulled me over to let me know my tail light is out, it’s just because you’re looking out for me, are they way these resolve.
At no time in my life have I ever had to wonder if the treatment I received was because of my skin color. I know sometimes it was because of my age, long hair, or the way I was dressed. If those (relatively) minor disrespects I received at the time are the way minorities have to live their lives, then I can only imagine the stress and anger that must be a daily ordeal.
Here is another example. I was once chased down in a hardware store parking lot for shoplifting.
“We saw you put something in your pocket.”
As I shuffle my car keys, but before I pull the old hinge out I say, “I was trying to match a hinge, but you didn’t have the right size.”
“Oh, you brought it with you? Have a nice day.”
I still shop at that store.
Even the most suspicious of looking dude (however you view that) could have gotten out of it pretty easily, as the hinge I had was clearly old, with paint flaking off and scratch marks from having to drill out the screws. Would that suspicious looking dude have been asked to wait around for the police to sort it out, or asked to empty his pockets? Maybe, maybe not.
But in the encounter I don’t have any doubt that I was approached not because of my skin color, but because of my suspicious behavior: wearing a big coat, standing in front of bins of hinges, putting a hinge in my pocket (which I’d taken out a few moments earlier), and then leaving without paying for anything.
Also, I guess us white guys all kind of look the same, so it’s no wonder your husband is mistaken for Ed Norton. That’s happened to all of us.
