Not very much. Maybe a little bit about a lot. Well, that is my hope. It’s what I’m shooting for; the autodidacticism reprieve. I graduated high school and finished one semester in college. Everything else is… self-taught? But I don’t know if I’ve taught myself anything, or if I’ve just read a few books. Three-fourths of them are gone from the memory bank, which leaves me wondering what I actually know.
I know frivolous things. Truths about myself that a common stranger would know just by looking at me. I am a white male who has never had to work very hard for anything. I am not rich. I could be considered poor, but a stranger couldn’t tell that by sight. Somehow, I am not homeless or going hungry. I’ve done the bare minimum and miraculously treaded above water. But it is not a miracle.
It’s privilege. One privilege or two, or three, or so many piled up they’re like that heap of clothes in the corner of the room you honestly don’t see anymore. Or it’s as simple as an involuntary system already installed. Something built in like breathing that you don’t really give much thought to until it breaks down. The question is does it ever breakdown for you or is your obliviousness built to last.
Last until your deathbed and maybe you see the light of your ways. Maybe you see all those times where good luck swung your way. Well, it wasn’t luck, was it. It was a system built for you to succeed or land on your feet at least. This is what I know. Luckily, I haven’t died yet to learn it. Not yet anyway. And not that I’m patting myself on the back for realizing something so obvious. I’m just trying to figure out what I know.
What I know is white privilege. And I see it crumbling all around me. And I see people who look like me fighting to keep it in good repair. I wonder if this could be my point of view. Not mine to own, but to borrow from, as people like me have borrowed from others without payment for thousands of years. What I know is wrong. Maybe I can make it right. Maybe not “it” but something.
Josh Mayhall 