Privilege

I almost never get asked to show my receipt at Walmart. I kept this observation to myself for quite a while, thinking that surely I was mistaken. But time after time, it proved to be true. One day I mentioned it to Trent, and he started noticing it as well. I began to change my habits on leaving the store. Instead of stuffing the receipt into my purse or one of my shopping bags, I began to carry it in my hand until we left the store. Still no takers.

I became obsessed. I progressed from simply carrying the receipt to sort of flashing or waving it at the staff member working as Greeter and/or Checker of Receipts and Bags. Still no takers, in spite of the fact that on more than one occasion I had seen the same individuals diligently checking the receipts and carts of other customers who were leaving as we arrived at the store.

I became more bold, bordering on aggressive. As Trent pushed the cart toward the exit door, I would ask the Greeter if they needed to see my receipt. They assured me that no, it wasn't necessary as long as everything I had was in bags. They only needed to look at my receipt if I had non-bagged merchandise in my cart. 

Every time this happened, my heart broke a little, and my anger simmered a little more. Why? Am I a fan of being asked to prove that I purchased everything in my cart? Isn't it enough to have that happen when I buy things at a membership warehouse? Trent, who is in agreement with my feelings on this subject, knows better. It's because I know why it happens. 

You see, I've carefully watched, at stores of all types, the ways people of all descriptions are treated. As I said to Trent when this really started to bother me, unequal treatment exists. In fact, it thrives. On one of the first days this was driven into my consciousness, we were entering the store as a young Asian woman and her children were leaving the store. She had been stopped and asked to provide her receipt. The receipt and the contents of her bags were scrutinized. And no, to the best of my knowledge, there was nothing in her cart that wasn't bagged.

As we left the store, I told Trent how awful it makes me feel to know the unspoken preferential treatment I am given. As I said in that parking lot, they aren't letting me walk on by because everything we bought has been bagged. And it's not because I'm fat and old mature and probably can't run very fast with or without stolen goods. It's because I'm fat, old, and white. And it sickens me.

As much as I hate to jump on bandwagon-type phrases, I have to use this one. White privilege exists and is thriving in the USA. Don't get me wrong, I'm fully aware of how fortunate I am to not be a target of numerous types of judgement and scrutiny based on things like my age. I was once, in my much younger years, accused of stealing from a music store. It was degrading, frightening, and depressing. But I'll never know the fear that must accompany millions of people of color or of other belief systems, individuals both young and mature, every time they go to a store. 

If you look up the word privilege in a dictionary, as I did while preparing to write this piece, you'll see that it is a special right, advantage, or immunity that is only available to a particular person or group of people. I am being given preferential treatment that I have done absolutely nothing special to earn or deserve.  I was simply born looking a certain way. My Eastern European ancestry gave me my blue eyes and my medium-brown hair and my lightly-pigmented complexion. I haven't cured any diseases or written anything fabulous or created world peace, although I long for it every day. I'm just a person, as is everyone who reads (or doesn't read) these words. 

Like everyone else, I was born with the potential to be a healer, a killer, a writer, a reader, a friend, an enemy, or any number of other things. And I could also be a shoplifter or someone who is pretty darn honest when she shops. I just want to be treated like everyone else. I want everyone to enjoy the same privileges I definitely don't take for granted. The privilege I want to see in abundance is a simple one, one that I try to employ in my interactions with others every day. It's about being mindful of human dignity and worth, something that people of every description deserve.

See others not with your eyes, but with your heart.


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