White Privilege

A lot has been going on lately as far as "race relations" go. Things are as tense and touchy as they have been since the civil rights movement of the 60's. A lot of that is because we live in this weird internet age, and social media is more or less a cancer when it comes to these things. If you've ever made the mistake of reading the comments section of a local news article detailing any sort of racial issue, you probably understand where I am coming from here. A lot of these Midwestern "blue collar white folks" are not shy about voicing their opinion on subjects like the #blacklivesmatter movement, or when an unarmed black kid gets shot up and subsequently murdered by law enforcement. Then there is the seemingly unending list of celebrities caught up in their various racial scandals. Always these "down home" folksy types like Paula Deen, who I guess is some sort of television cooking show mogul (I don't watch that shit, I could be off base here) or Ted Nugent with his cheeky little racist schtick, whom the conservative types have championed as a proud purveyor of free speech. Now just recently Hulk Hogan has been added to this unfortunate group. Here is the thing though, when people like this, or people on social media commenting on a news story call young black kids "thugs", it's not hard to read in between the lines and realize what word they really want to use. The most difficult thing for me personally about this is in my opinion, people who are openly racist, or passive aggressive racists aren't that way because they can't help it. They can help it. They chose to be that way. It is willful ignorance. It is intentional, outright stupidity. It is based at it's very core in stupidity. They completely refuse to understand other cultures of people who have a different color of skin than them. They are terrified of brown or black people. They view them as sub humans, and they have nothing but contempt for them. But this post isn't about any of that. I can sit here and talk about how frustrating it is to know that these people exist. White privilege is real, because I am certain I have experienced it.

During the spring of 2007 I was 21 years old, and living with a roommate and playing in a shitty sludge metal band called Miserable Prick. We were pretty rudimentary and awful, but it was a lot of fun and we had a lot of conviction in the message we were trying to convey. Which was mostly just blasphemous H.P. Lovecraft themed shit metal. We didn't know a fucking thing about songcraft, or how to properly write music, but that was the last thing we cared about. We just wanted to make blasphemous noise. We more or less accomplished that. Eventually by mid summer, we had made enough racket and word had gotten around town (not hard to do in a town of 3,500 people) that we were a thing, and we were out there playing basement shows and people started to pay a bit of attention. I was working in a grocery store at the time and one day I carried out groceries for a woman who had a Testament window sticker on the back of her car. Being in tune with old school 80's thrash, I inquired if she was a fan, and she explained that not her, but her brother was a huge fan and he was in a local band that played shows around Eastern Iowa. I eagerly told her about my shitty band and told her I would like to make contact with her brother. She then mentioned that her husband plays drums in her brother's band as well. Long story short, I gave her a CD, went and auditioned with them, and a few weeks later they asked me to join the band as their new vocalist. The band was called Sinistir Mind and they played sort of an old school type thrash, very much like Testament or older Metallica. This was the most exciting thing for a 21 year old me, as I had been wanting to join an actual band who plays shows outside of a basement. And this band was ready with a canon of songs and years of experience playing gigs. It was my time to be a "rockstar" so to speak. A few months later we played our first show at Tornado's in Cedar Rapids. A small dive bar with a reputation as being a "rough and tumble metal crowd kind of place." Sometime before our set, a man sitting at the bar fired up a crack pipe, and got thrown out of the bar. We played our set, and I slayed. I did a great job, and I am proud to say that. The crowd was into it, and Sinistir Mind's new vocalist was greeted with love and open arms. I had made it, I thought. I was a local rockstar now. Fast forward about a month, and we played our second show with me at the helm manning the microphone, and if you are wondering if I was ever going to get to a point, here well, this is where I get to my point.

It was late August or September of that year. 2007. At this point I had quit my job at the local grocery store. I was working in a motorcycle parts warehouse. This meant that I didn't have to adhere to the rigid standards of working around customers and keeping up a clean cut appearance. I grew out my hair and a tremendous furry red beard. It was pointy and long. It was basically like I had a lion's mane at that point. I looked like a genuine,dyed in the wool motherfucker. I had adopted all of the requisite "metal guy" quirks at this point. I wore work boots with raggedy shorts. Band T-shirts every day. Maybe I was a try hard. Maybe I was a poser. Who fucking knows, and that doesn't matter. Our second show with me as the vocalist was in Dubuque Iowa, at a shitty rat infested hole in the wall joint in one of the worst parts of Dubuque. We were the second band to play. The crowd was a bit sparse this time. Apparently Dubuque didn't have much of an appetite for tough guy hardcore and 80's style thrash. Shortly after our set was over, we were on stage disassembling drums and wheeling amplifiers off stage, and I was approached by a woman who came up near the stage and she wanted to speak with me. She said "Hey, my friend over there thinks you're hot and she wants to know if you want to come party with us after the show." I glanced over toward the bar at her friend. She was sitting there sipping on a mixed drink. She gave me a seductive smile and waved. She was attractive, in a trashy yet somehow appealing sort of way. She had a dangerous, malevolent sort of persona about her. Like she might be into some weird "dark corners of the internet" type of shit. I was intrigued. Very intrigued. She had shoulder length dark hair and several tattoos, and short booty enhancing shorts.. So I said "Yeah, I can probably do that. Let me talk to my band mates." As we were loading out our gear, I approached our guitar player and told him about my situation. Me being the new guy, and they were eager and happy to have me as their new front man, he said "Brother. Here is a $20 bill. Go find yourself a case of beer and some condoms, and go have fun. We will come back for you tomorrow." I was a little bit flustered and overwhelmed, but hey I was a "rockstar" now and this was what I was supposed to do right? So I went along with it. I accompanied these two women on a late night adventure through east Dubuque. I got to know my new friend quite well. We hit up several bars, and all of us got exceedingly intoxicated. Just two girls and I. My new friend and I groped one another and made out in public. Looking back on it, it was fucking gross and crass. I don't ever want to be 21 again. If 29 year old me could see what 21 year old me was doing in public that night, I might have considered approaching him and telling him that was gross and weird, and to knock it the fuck off. And then 21 year old me would have subsequently beaten the fuck out of 29 year old me. I was a physical specimen back then, and I was an unbearable, arrogant fuckhead. But I digress. When last call arrived, we had made arrangements to go back to these girl's shared rental house and have a three person after party. I hopped in the girl's SUV who had initially approached me. The other girl and I made out in the back seat. And then there were red and blue flashing lights in the rearview mirror.

We were being pulled over. Apparently the girl driving had made an illegal turn, or failed to come to a complete stop at a stop light. Either way, we were fucked. Or at least she was. We pulled over and two cops approached our vehicle. One of them rapped on the back window where I was sitting. Now it is important to note, that I had to urinate at this point like I had never had to urinate in my entire life. If I waited another five or ten minutes, there is no doubt in my mind that I would have pissed my pants. So when the cop came up to my window, I rolled it down, and before he even got a word out, I said "Hey before you say anything, I have to pee in the worst way. Like I am going to pee my pants." And then he did something completely astonishing to me. He cheerfully said "Okay, go back behind that building, do your thing and then come right back." Totally surprised, I did just that. I went back behind a building on the street we were pulled over on, and I relieved my swollen, booze addled bladder. He didn't follow me. He didn't stand nearby to make sure I didn't take off running. He simply stayed near the car and waited patiently for me to come back. When I returned, he questioned me as to what I was up to that night. I was completely honest with him. I stated that my band had played a show, and that I was from out of town and I was partying with these girls that I had just met. I asked him what was going to happen. He said "well, your friend who was driving is going to jail for an OWI, and I am going to call a cab for you and your friend to go back to her house. Have a good night and be safe." So that is what happened. A cab came and picked up my new lady friend and I, and we went back to her place and did gross things.

But here is what I am getting at now. What would have happened to me, if I was black in this scenario? I did not look like an upstanding citizen of the law by any means. I looked like a bridge dwelling troll type creature, or a homeless vagrant. I had wild, long red hair and an awful beard. I was wearing raggedy shorts and scuffed up fucking work boots. This cop didn't even think twice about letting me run off to take a piss, unsupervised. If I had drugs on me or a weapon, I could EASILY have ditched them and he would have had no idea. He never searched me. He didn't even fucking ask me any questions before I ran off to piss. If I wanted to, I could have just run off and avoided the whole thing. Would that have happened if I was black? If I had dreadlocks or if my pants were sagging? It's impossible to know. I definitely think I had the advantage of being white in that situation. Something tells me things would have unfolded differently if my skin was a darker pigment.

This is just a personal experience of mine. I know people groan and roll their eyes when they hear or read the words "white privilege", but put yourself in the shoes of someone else for once. When black people or minorities deal with law enforcement, a lot of the time they are totally fucking terrified. And with the way things have been lately, can you blame them? Every other week we have an unarmed black kid shot and killed in this country by law enforcement. I don't know if it is a cop problem. I am not here to say that all cops are pigs and are awful people. In my current line of work I deal with police officers every day, and most of them seem like honest, friendly people and I get along with them. But instead of saying "HE SHOULDN'T HAVE RUN" or "HE WAS A THUG, GOOD RIDDANCE I AM GLAD HE IS DEAD", can we not have some fucking compassion and understanding? Is that too much to ask? I don't have the answers. I am just relaying a personal experience. And yes, I think I was a beneficiary of white privilege. I am not hear to try and make white people feel guilty about being white, and that would be ridiculous. But maybe if this goes over your head, you never will understand or just don't want to. And that's fine. If that is the case, keep watching Duck Dynasty re-runs and posting about how the Confederate flag is about "heritage and not hate." This is a divisive topic, and I know that. But let's try to get better at this. In 2015, we should be better at this. Thanks for reading.