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Brown Privilege: The Unearned Societal Benefits of Being Brown

It never fails. That little box appears on various applications. At banks, universities, department stores, surveys, online questionnaires, rental agreements, the list is endless. Sometimes the proudly liberal add the word “optional” in parenthesis. This “optional” clause gets me rolling. What I actually read is,

“Although we want to appear race-friendly, your personal information will help to place your entire being on an abstract graph as we try to measure the relationship between your y-axis with your x-axis. This will in turn assist us in making hardcore, strategic conclusions about our relationship with your people.”

And when too much of my y-axis meets too little of my x-axis then, instantaneously, I become the liability. That’s all it takes, a point on a graph and my very essence is devalued and dismissed. Do you call this a system? I reserve the right to call it illiberality. 

Let’s get into the reason I’m extra vexed at this moment. Shopping at my local Jewel-Osco in a suburban neighborhood where the color brown is primarily used only when describing the color of the earth, a gentleman (not sharing the same cultural background as me) was surprised I could speak English.

How do I know he was surprised? I said, “Excuse me” as I was trying to get down the aisle, get to check-out, get home and get dinner ready. He stepped out of the way very slowly, took me in from head to toe, and mumbled “Well, apparently they can speak English.” Of course, dinner was the last thing on my mind as blood and a string of unpleasant French words rushed to my head,

I felt my brown skin turning red. I faced him directly, looked him in the eyes and asked him what he meant by “they”. His aloof reply, “Mexicans”.

Not only was this very ignorant man passing an absurd judgment on an entire group of people, his very tiny brain automatically placed me in the only category of brown he was familiar with. The blood and adrenaline rush may have influenced my tongue as I described his mind as a small dark room locked on the outside, barred on the inside. I added that although I’m not Mexican, he should think before uttering blatant nonsense about a nation of people.

Completely disregarding the heat in my voice he asked me what I was. I love this question because it places the ball in my wonderfully exotic, offshore court. I should’ve walked away, but I wanted to give him the run-around.

“American,” I said.

He chuckled, I was expecting this chuckle. I kept a straight face as he pressed on, “Where are you from?” he asked. ‘Chicago’ was my very true reply.

He wouldn’t quit, neither would I. I could tell by his voice that he was becoming a bit impatient. I didn’t care.

“Before you moved to Chicago, where did you come from?”

“I didn’t move to Chicago.”

“Where were you born?”

“Chicago.”

He didn’t want me to be American. He was trying to prove somehow that his claim to America was more substantial than mine because of the color of his skin. When he couldn’t question my sole existence any longer he attempted to imprudently question my genealogy. “Where are your parents from?”

I refused to allow this inane man any more time out of my day. “I thought this conversation was between you and me,” I said. “Bring your parents here, I will bring mine, and we can set a date and time for our next debate. Right now, this conversation is over.”

Although delayed and then rushed, a delicious dinner of chicken, vegetables, rice and lentils was eventually served.

What ends up happening in a race-conscious society is people begin to look at each other with a very limited mental capacity. Open-mindedness ceases, we do not allow anyone the benefit of the doubt, trust is held at bay, and without knowing we are already subjecting our minds to stereotypes and labels.

Furthermore, we inadvertently require individuals to substantiate themselves. We ask them questions like what do you do? Where did you go to school? What did you study? What we really want to ask them is, “How much value should I place on you and your life, and is that value high enough?”

What a horrific thought. I will never understand the need to size another person up? Such detestable behavior doesn’t spring forth overnight. This behavior and way of thinking is bred, manifested, and spread. Stop it at the root. Stop it when you see it, feel it, or hear it. This race of races is exhausting and there is no finish line. Ask me what I am, I will tell you without prevarication.

I am human, human is my race.