Over the holidays, I spent time catching up with an old friend. Mark was a blast from our past when we lived in New Hampshire. We met through a young adults’ Christian fellowship group at church 35 years ago and became instant friends. But life got in the way and separated us geographically and socially while life experiences divided us philosophically. Yet, through it all, we remained friends and usually connected by phone several times a year.

I always preface our calls with, “Mark, let’s talk about our lives. Our jobs. Our families. No politics or religion.” Mark is always agreeable to this, at least to start. However, within minutes, we end up segueing into some debatable or potentially controversial issue.

I timed it on this last call. We hit on a hot topic within 90 seconds of talking about our jobs (Mark is a permanent substitute teacher in his local school district). “So, guess what the big catchphrase in school is now? White privilege! What is that? I don’t have more privileges as a white guy than anyone else.”

Although I could feel my hair beginning to stand on edge, I kept my cool. I put on my educator hat and used this as a teachable moment.

According to Merriam-Webster (2022), white privilege describes social and economic advantages that white people have based on their race. I told Mark I also had a hard time wrapping my head around the concept. I could not understand why anyone thought I had more rights and opportunities simply because I was white. But then I had an epiphany. This one experience gave me a life lesson on white privilege and also pained me to feel very helpless. So maybe telling this story could enlighten not only Mark but the many other people who struggle with racial injustice.

One day after work I stopped to order some books for a work event. After placing the order, I started browsing the bookshelves and found a novel I wanted. I bought the book and started toward the store’s exit. The back story is that I had recently gotten a designer purse as a gift, and there seemed to be a security chip in the lining. When I go through a particular venue’s security checks, it sets off alarms. As the red lights flashed and buzzers hummed, I stopped and began to open my purse and bag. Two managers were walking swiftly in my direction, and I started (with a bit of dry humor) explaining about my handbag’s little demon. The one manager raised his hand and waved me off. “That’s fine, ma’am.” Both managers continued past me and converged upon a woman exiting the store at the same moment. The woman was flustered and said, “I didn’t take anything. I swear. I didn’t take anything!” This distraught woman happened to be African American and dressed pretty casually. I quickly intervened and tried to explain that I was the one who had set off the bells and whistles. The managers dismissed me again. They continued to search the woman’s bags, so I tried one more time to state my case. This time I was told to leave.

Here is where I struggle. I did what the managers told me to do. I left. I lingered a while behind a display outside the store to witness the rest of the debacle. The managers eventually let the distressed woman go, convinced she did not steal from their store. I felt like I should have done more. I was angry at the store staff and myself. It was just assumed that a white woman dressed professionally could not possibly have shoplifted. Still, the black woman was presumed to be a prime suspect. I got to my car and sadly acknowledged that I had just experienced white privilege.

Mark was silent on the other end of the phone. With a sigh of disbelief, he said things like this should not happen. But they do, I told him. We never have to worry about entering a store and being identified as a potential thief. Many people of color have told me they must proceed with so much caution in public. They feel as if they are guilty until proven innocent in many situations.

In her 2020 paper, Ann Gleig describes how white privilege is not an individual experience but rather a structural phenomenon rooted in our country’s historic legal and social processes. As such, white people are still benefiting from structures put in place long before they were even born.

As our conversation drew to a close, Mark and I once again found our common ground. Even though we often start at different angles when discussing an issue, we do two things: We agree to disagree and find a place where we can exist in harmony. In this case, we ended with this thought: Live by the golden rule. Treat others as you wish to be treated. That is the path to social justice.

We need to acknowledge that some groups of people, specifically people of color, have historically had more hurdles to overcome and more barriers to face than most white people. Acknowledging the existence of white privilege should not cause shame, denial or apathy. While it is a deeply-rooted systemic issue, having these difficult conversations is the first step to increased understanding and justice.

Denise Continenza is the Communities That Care mobilizer for Whitehall-Coplay and Catasauqua.