Years ago, some feminist on the internet told me I was “Privileged.”
“THE FUCK!?!?” I said.
I came from the kind of Poor that people don’t want to believe still exists in this country. Have you ever spent a frigid northern Illinois winter without heat or running water? I have. At twelve years old, were you making ramen noodles in a coffee maker with water you fetched from a public bathroom? I was. Have you ever lived in a camper year round and used a random relative’s apartment as your mailing address? We did. Did you attend so many different elementary schools that you can only remember a quarter of their names? Welcome to my childhood.
(This was a much nicer camper setup than the one we had.)
So when that feminist told me I had “white privilege,” I told her that my white skin didn’t do shit to…
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