My "White Privileged" Life

​Every time I am accused of being "white privileged" I want to roll on the floor in laughter.  Whoever conceived of that abomination of discrimination was a total idiot.  Having lived in several multi-cultural communities, I have learned that those that cry discrimination are looking for any attitude, comment or movement that they can file in their "discrimination" file to be regurgitated on cue later.
One afternoon in downtown Aurora my granddaughter and I approached a dress shop on Colfax Avenue.  I opened the door, my granddaughter entered and I followed.  A 20ish black man darted up to the door, grabbed the door and snarled, "Thanks for holding the door!"  I didn't react as I was confused.  What the h..!  It took me until after our shopping to realize that the arrogant young man should have rushed up and opened the door for this old lady, not the other way around.  Why did I not immediately respond that to him? Cultural conditioning!  Give first consideration to the color.  A white young man would have received my lesson in his bad manners.  Can't be confrontational with a black person.
I was very involved in the theatre in Colorado as a judge and patron.  On a number of occasions the issue of discrimination was brought up.  I recall relaying a story about a black actor that got the part in the play (Glengarry Glen Ross I believe) because he was black and what a terrible actor he was.  The Denver Post review of the play only mention that he was in the play.  They did not roast him "because he was black" as they would have a white actor that was that bad.  
A retort from a friend was that blacks weren't recognized or rewarded in theatre.  To make a lasting impression, I asked my frequent theatre companion, my granddaughter,
"Who won the Henry (Colorado's Tony) for best actor last year?" 
"Cajardo Lindsey" she replied.  
"What color is he?" I asked. 
"Black" she said. 
"Did he deserve it?" 
"Yes" she responded. 
Then I asked, "Who won the Henry for best supporting actor last year?" 
"Lawrence Curry" was her response. 
"What color is he?" I questioned. 
"Black" she said. 
"Did he deserve it?" 
"Yes" was her response.  
Case closed.  You are rewarded for what you achieve.  Period.

As a sociology buff I watch all cultural dynamics.  Just curious.  There are fewer black people that attend the majority of live theatre venues than do white.  White theatre people are very inclusive.  I have often remarked to black people that I don't realize you are black until you bring it up then my conversational wall comes up.  I am not going there.  I have had many funny chats with black patrons.  One I remember with humor.  We were sitting in the balcony of the Fox Theatre waiting for curtain.  We began a conversation around our mutual research into our ancestry.   She, a very elegant, classy lady, relayed her discovered heritage from Africa, to Islands, and then American cotton plantations.  "I don't understand how my DNA includes Irish descent?" she puzzled.  "I know!" I responded.  "There were thousands of Irish slaves before there were blacks.  She was totally shocked that there were other "slaves" than black slaves.  "I'll have to check that out."  She shocked.  I leaned over to her and smiled with big eyes, "We may be related."

As I said, white theatre patrons are very inclusive of all cultures without consideration of color.  As a judge I was assigned to a play downtown Denver in a predominantly black theatre venue.  I entered and found a seat 4 rows up on the aisle.  No seats ever were occupied near me and only one person said hello in passing.  I was the only white person in the audience or on stage.  At intermission, I went up to the lobby and purchased a drink.  I stood by myself while the black patrons (including the mayor whose wife was in the play) all grouped on the other side of the lobby.  I know it wasn't to get away from me.  I am not screaming white discrimination.  They were just living their theatre lives as usual.  I just happened to be there.  They actually probably knew I was a judge.  The entire evening went that way.  I returned home chuckling that only one person even said hi.  There was no effort to discriminate.  No one was nasty to me.  It was just life.  It doesn't work that way from the other side. Whites are culturally conditioned.

Is discrimination reserved only for blacks? The overwhelming attitude is that it is.  The ever sensationalizing news media and social media blast it in your face.  Truth be told.  We are all discriminated against at some time in our lives whether it be social status, sex, financial status, geography, etc.  Those that succumb to it become victims.  Those that use it as a stepping stone and lesson in life become victors.
Starting out as the third of seven children in a loving but poor home, I became aware of my station in life early on.  I was born while living on a sheep ranch in north western South Dakota, moved to a farm on Elk Creek just west of Rapid City, moved into Sturgis for four or five years and then north of Sturgis on a ranch.  Country life was great; filled with love and adventure.  My father was a hard worker but had only finished 7th grade.  On moving to Sturgis in 1952 he went to work for the VA in Fort Meade as well as working second jobs.  His lack of education kept him from passing the upgrade test for the VA so he worked nights for the extra differential pay.  One thing each of the country homes had in common was the "outhouse."  We also did not have running when we first moved to the ranch.  In all the 6 years I was there we bathed in a huge galvanized tub once a week.  The water was only changed after a three bathers.  We could wash our hair in the sink as often as we wanted but baths were once a week. 

Poverty was my secret.  The outhouse was my secret.  Once-a-week-baths was my secret.  Or so I always hoped.  I kept quiet most of the time so that I would not let those secrets seep out.  No one ever mentioned they knew but I always felt paranoid that they did.  I did not know anyone else that had an outhouse.  Self-imposed discrimination I suppose.  My brother did not seem to mind our status as he had a continuous stream of buddies that would come out with him to enjoy the country. 
I loved my father to the ends of the earth and always helped him whenever I could.  He would come home from work in the morning at 8:00, have breakfast, do the chores he knew were needed and then hope for a nap.  The ranch owner would often see him arrive at 8 and come down to tell him of the new chores he needed to accomplish that day.   There were chores he had to do every evening also.  In the summer I would help him all day.  During school I would only be able to assist him in the evening.  We lived "free" in the house or so the story goes.  My dad had to work to pay for the little 6 room (living room, kitchen, 2 bedrooms (no bath) downstairs and 2 tiny bedrooms upstairs).   There was only a coal stove in the living room which would eventually be replaced with a propane stove.  The only way to get heat up to the bedrooms on second floor was by opening the stair door.  We had heavy quilts on our beds that kept us cozy.  Mom got a little electric heater for the kitchen but the ranch owner complained about the electric bill so that had to go.

As much as I tried to remain under the radar at school, my quietness seemed a drawing to others.  I joined groups but had no intention of running for office and God forbid I should try out for cheerleader or anything like that.  Popularity was something I wanted nothing to do with.  My second hand or hand sewn clothes kept me at second class or so I felt.  I was uncomfortable when nominated for an office but too shy to say no.  I was a natural organizer.  I was so busy my senior year that I rented a bedroom near the school.  That year I worked in a grocery store 20 hours a week, became president of the Methodist Youth Group, president of the Future Homemakers of America, editor of the school annual, student council representative for Thespians and voted in as a member of L-13 a social group.  I became campaign manager for a classmate who was running for a state FHA office (she won.), spoke to a 1000 members at a state FHA convention, earned a trip to the United Nations and Washington, DC and was voted Queen of the Sweetheart ball by the FFA boys.

My mother asked me once, "Why did you do all the things you did in school?"  I said I never intended to.  I was just swept along by those with whom I was involved.  Upon graduation and entering college I said I was not going to join another thing but study and have fun.
I was the victor of this self-imposed discrimination (or was it). 

My father was an amazing, lovable man but he had an old fashioned mind set.  He told me he would never help pay for a daughter's college education because she would just get married and have kids.  I just smiled and loved his discriminating heart anyway.  He was at my college graduation but did not live to see me get my master's degree.

Since I came from a poor family I was awarded a 50% Pell Grant and 50% student loan.  If I received a teaching degree and taught for 10 years I would not have to pay back the student loan.    I wasn't really sure what I wanted to study so I just took general education courses the first few years.  One required course was economics.  I loved the teacher and the course content.  I continued to take every economics course the college offered.  Equally enjoyable were the political science courses, thus I took every one of those the college offered.  I hated history because I had a terrible time passing the tests.  I can do analysis but not regurgitate facts.  I graduated with a secondary education degree in Social Science with a minor in Spanish.  Excited to embark on my teaching career I searched for job openings only to find that all such jobs were only available to men who coached.  I was devastated.  Additionally, while residing in California there was an additional requirement for 14 hours beyond your bachelors so I went back to school for that.  Still could not get a job.  Moved to Colorado; same scenario.  Moved to back to South Dakota.  Still no job.  Although I was never able to get a full time job as a teacher, I spent a number of years as a substitute and then on retirement I returned to substituting.  Today that type of discrimination does not exist.

The upside to failure to get a teaching job was the variety of jobs I did get to experience.  My favorite was in the airline industry where I worked in flight operation for the chief pilot of a commuter airline.  Upon graduating from high school I had tried to get on as a flight attendant but I was "too short."  Years later when that height restriction was removed I tried again.  This time I was interviewed by flight attendants also.  They determined that I did not have "the right look."   I went to a beautician and had a make-over.  One day I was picking up a passenger at the airport when one of the interviewers saw me and looked shocked.  That was satisfying.

When the airlines went bankrupt I happened upon a job with a mechanical contracting company.  I started in the estimating department, learned purchasing, accounts payable and accounts receivable as I would fill-in in each department when that person went on vacation or sick leave.  Eventually, the company was awarded contracts at Denver International Airport.  On the jobsite, I became the contract administrator for all contracts and worked no less than 60 hours a week "on salary."  There were times when I managed a staff of 15 or more in the contract office.  One hilarious incident occurred with a co-worker that had previously been a project manager but on these projects he was a labor manager.  He had been with this company for 15 years or more and I only about 5 or 6.  One day in his office he commented to me in frustration, "I don't get it.  You are way down here (and he pointed to the floor) and I am way up her (and he pointed to the ceiling) but you have all the power."  Then he repeated it.  I just laughed.  "Jerry," I said," I only have power of paper, not power over people."  I understood his discriminatory mindset as it was prevalent in the construction industry but I never let it affect my work.  I just parked it in the back of my mind.  The final year of the construction of DIA, the company made $7.2 million profit.  Not gross.  Profit.  I had worked 60 to 100 (yes 100) hours a week keeping up with the contracts on a salary with no overtime.  Bonuses for the project were handed out.  The project director came to me and said he tried to get me a bonus but the management said that they did not want to set a precedent of giving women bonuses.   My victory here was that I learned so much about project management and field management that I would later go to work for a general contractor making twice the income plus generous bonuses as a project specialists.

The last little discriminatory comment I will make before summarizing happened after DIA but before I quit that company.  I had turned a subsidiary division into a profit center for the company.  The president of the division called me in for review and salary increase.  He said, "Don't let anyone know what you make now as you are the highest paid "female" in the company."  I smiled.  Was that a compliment?
I could relay many more experiences of discrimination in this "white supremacy" life of mine but will just close with a summary list.

• Poverty makes you work harder.
• Say nothing and your words go further.
• When one door closes open a better one.
• Love your family for what they are not what you expect them to be.
• Don't expect the world to see you. 
• A chip on your shoulder will start a fire but a strong backbone won't let it land there.

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