On Privilege: Unpacking the “p” Word

Jun 062012
 

privilege

priv-lij] Show IPA noun, verb, priv•i•leged, priv•i•leg•ing.

noun
1.
a right, immunity, or benefit enjoyed only by a person beyond the advantages of most: the privileges of the very rich.

2.
a special right, immunity, or exemption granted to persons in authority or office to free them from certain obligations or liabilities: the privilege of a senator to speak in Congress without danger of a libel suit.

3.
a grant to an individual, corporation, etc., of a special right or immunity, under certain conditions.

4.
the principle or condition of enjoying special rights or immunities.

5.
any of the rights common to all citizens under a modern constitutional government: We enjoy the privileges of a free people.

 From dictionary.com

I’ve been rolling these ideas around long enough. It’s time to bring them into the light. They’re not all pretty. As someone who aims to please, I fear alienating people. I will endeavor to be as transparent as I can in unpacking my own privilege, even as I ask people to unpack and be comfortable sitting with theirs.

These aren’t new concepts for me. I’ve alternately embraced and wrestled with them since my early years as a naively eager college student studying Women’s Studies. I embraced language that could help me give voice to my own reality as a person who inhabits two minorities—womanhood and disability. Some of my journal entries from those days are insightful. Some of them miss the mark in ways it pains me to read.

Recent discussions among those who identify as sex-positive, sex-supportive, or sex-inclusive have got me thinking again.

Here are some thoughts I’ve put together. They’re pretty raw and unformed. I’m leaving them that way on purpose.

People with privilege, whether you identify as such, or are given that label, it’s okay to feel discomfort.

You can, as I know you’re eager to do, use your privilege to help. If you have money, you can give it. You can do without a couple of extra Starbucks lattes throughout each week and use that money for the good of your choice. You can speak out on the necessity (for both workers and clients) of decriminalizing sex work without the fear of being fingered and censured for being a sex worker. You can use your collective energies to make sweeping societal changes that will make our world more comfortable for people with different disabilities, of different sizes, etc. Who you are will dictate what means the most to you, and how you and your privilege relate to those with less or different privilege.

First, though, you need to feel a little uncomfortable. I know you don’t want to. You just want to help. Remember that for years it is we who have felt uncomfortable. Not saying it’s right; that you should feel uncomfortable just because we have. But there needs to be something more than just knowing on your part..a building of connections, a space and time for listening before doing.

You think we’re yelling at you…and maybe sometimes we are. Consider that when people speak out, it’s usually because they feel safe to do so. That’s an important first step. Creating a safe space is no easy feat, so if minorities are speaking out, this is a good thing.

Am I preaching?

I am a person of privilege. IN spite of the fact that every day I leave my house I run the risk of experiencing an environment that excludes me in some way. IN spite of the fact that every time I leave my house I, a married and college-educated woman with a house of my own, (all things valued in our society) “.run the risk of being treated or talked to as a helpless child. In spite of the fact that as a disabled woman I’m at an increased risk (statistically, and even more importantly anecdotally) of experiencing violence, that my wit, charm and intelligence are overlooked with automatic assumptions of what I can or cannot do….

In spite of all of this, I have enough money to live, enough money to enjoy a suburban life. When I emigrated to the U.S. from Canada, the process, though fraught with bureaucracy and woefully expensive, was smooth, in no small part, I am sure, because of my fair skin and native tongue of English. Oh, and I had the financial means to hire a lawyer, a specialized immigration firm even, which further smoothed the process.

I don’t speak to you with an unprivileged voice. I don’t (intentionally) speak to you with an angry voice. IN spite of how it looks, when I speak to “you” I speak just as much to myself.

But I do speak to you in a voice of diversity. Every time I walk into a room, I visibly change its minority composition. Reid Mihalko, glancing around the room at Momentum’s closing keynote, saw me taking notes on a piece of adaptive technology. It struck his eye as an aspect of diversity, a not unwelcome aberration in a roomful of smart phones, empty hands, and perhaps even a few pens and notepads. It’s taken a long time for me to feel comfortable with this reality of mine—that I do change the landscape, and I can choose to continue to struggle against this, or I can use it to speak out. Positive experiences, like having the difference I bring simply acknowledged, help with this, as more often than not when I change the landscape, there is palpable discomfort or anxiety.

So, while I have more to say about privilege, what it means and some of the more subtle ways in which it plays out, I’d like to propose that we slowly move the conversation over to one of acknowledging and exploring diversity and inclusion.

“Ready, Sexy, Able” presentation coming up tomorrow

Mar 302012
 

Tomorrow morning Dr. Ruthie Neustifter and I will be presenting our workshop “ready, sexy, able” at the Momentum conference.

Our aim with this workshop is to inform, of course, but it is also to jumpstart the dialogue on sexuality and disability. With knowledge comes power. With discussion comes truth, and freedom from shame. Our North American mainstream media teaches us that sex is a luxury, a reward for being young enough, fit enough, “attractive” enough, wealthy enough. Our lived reality is one of many different bodies and many different life experiences.

WE’ve gathered together this list of definitions and resources.

This list is not complete.

Follow the instructions in the document and add your own knowledge.

Or email me at
robin@robinstoynest.com

Having trouble viewing the document? It’s a little persnickety for screen readers.

Clik here for a straight HTML version and email me at the address above if you have any suggestions.

Naming Names: Musing On The Power of Pseudonyms

Aug 072011
 

When I was in fifth grade, my best friend at the time decided to change her name. Reactions ranged from surprise to derision. I imagine that the adults around us–with the exception of her mother–were indulgently dismissive, granting this act of self-naming little more respect than they would give to a three-year-old who announced authoritatively that he was now a grown-up.

She held fast, and with the support of her mother soon had everyone calling her by her new name, which she’d borrowed from her favourite soprano in musical theatre. She aspired to singing and performance, so this name choice was a perfect fit, if, perhaps, a little unoriginal.

Fast forward twenty years to my introduction to sexuality communities. I now know many people who use a variety of names depending on the setting. If you write about sex in your spare time, or if you participate in so-called alternative sex, or if you work in the sex industry, you are susceptible to censure from coworkers, employers, family members, friends, medical professionals. You can (and people do) lose jobs, child custody, real-life community support. All for celebrating, enjoying, and sharing the lusciousness of sexuality.

People who do this have to ensure their safety and their livelihoods. Some use pseudynyms. Some don’t publish pictures that could be used to identify them. Some enjoy their sexual escapades far away from home.

It’s not just sexual people, though. Just before posting this, I came across the
My Name Is Me project, a project that promotes the right, and even the necessity, for being able to use whatever name one wishes, particularly online. Some of the other people who benefit from the protection of a pseudonym: teachers, law enforcement officers, and medical professionals who wish to distance their leisure activities from professional scrutiny, those at risk for or experiencing violence, people whose religious, social or political views would get them in trouble in real space, and so on. I think you get the picture. Creating one’s own identity is a matter of safety and freedom.

Today I’m thinking, too, about the empowering aspects of choosing your own name.

A few weeks ago I was joking with a friend, and I said something about how I knew a mutual friend’s “real” name. That was wrong, both because I was mocking the power I could potentially have over someone, and because a name on a birth certificate isn’t any more real than anything else.

Power and playfulness: In choosing to name themselves, people can harness their creativity. They can choose names that sound sexy, artistic, smart, funny, freaky, or perhaps a little bit of all of it. The name can truly match the personality. They can choose a name that reflects who they are, or who they want to be. For some, choosing a new name may be a powerful way to move away from the constricting expectations of those who bestowed them with their birth certificate name. Certainly, there are devious reasons for people to develop personae and names that aren’t real, but I firmly believe that the majority of people who do this, because they must or simply because they want to, are expressing their authentic selves. There’s a freedom in naming oneself.

So, my friendly readers. What do you think? Should we be allowed to name ourselves? What would you name yourself if you were so inclined? Where would you use this new name?