My ancestors came to America fifty years after slavery had been abolished, but because I’m white, I’m somehow responsible for slavery. Isn’t that about as racist an assumption as you can make?
My “white privilege” amounted to my grandparents working hard, everyday of their entire lives, in an endless battle to squeeze an existence out of the dirt here, and survive America’s longest and coldest winters on the edge of the Great Lakes. Their parcel of land was given to them by the U.S. government under the Homestead Act because the government wanted the land occupied, and no one else was willing to live here. Their seven sons went to sea as soon as they were old enough, because sailors made more money than lumberjacks, and those two professions comprised the entire list of available employment. Continue reading “White Privilege”
