Privilege, within the context of social power, is unearned access to resources only readily available to some because of the place they occupy in society. It can exist within the context of areas such as race, class, gender, sexuality, age and ability.
Those who occupy non-dominant identities within these categories are statistically more likely to experience inequality such as poverty, violence and social isolation. Privilege is largely unnoticed unless attention is drawn to it.
For example, have you ever considered why we one can take African American or Latin American studies courses, yet American History stands on its own? Black and brown cultures are not represented as part of American history except in their association with American whiteness. While we are not responsible for the extent to which we are privileged, we are responsible for the extent to which we bring it to our awareness.
This being said, we cannot truly begin to address inequality within our communities without acknowledging that identity and experience are inextricably tied. We must consider the fact that our most vulnerable populations are also those who already occupy places of socioeconomic disadvantage.
These include people of color, single-parent households, children, the elderly, LGBTQ+ folx, the homeless, the chronically ill and those who occupy multiple marginalized identities within these categories.
I realize that I occupy a greater place of privilege than some others who look like me in the United States. I have a college education, I have healthcare, and I have a supportive partner and family. As a Black LGBTQ+ woman, I also experience chronic illness.
Chronic illness does not discriminate based upon age, race or demographic. Many chronic illnesses are, in fact, invisible and most afflicted with chronic illnesses must constantly combat the assumption that they are healthy because they often “look” healthy.
When you have a life-long illness that has no cure, you tend to need some form of costly, long-term care. It takes a mental and emotional toll to do everyday things like going to the grocery store.
Navigating a pandemic as a chronically ill person has been challenging. I haven’t had COVID-19 and I intend to continue implementing safety measures for as long as is needed for the sake of my long-term health, and that of my loved ones with chronic conditions. Through this, I’ve become more familiar with sacrificing what I want now for what I want for myself in the future.
As we continue to learn the long-term effects of contracting COVID-19, including potential damage to the lungs, heart, or brain, we must come to terms with the fact that our healthcare system is not equipped to manage care for growing numbers of chronically ill individuals. For many, it has taken a large-scale crisis to arrive at the conclusion that our systems are not functioning as they should.
Our essential workers – healthcare professionals, teachers, law enforcement officers, hospitality and service providers – are undercompensated and overworked. Essential healthcare services are overpriced and inaccessible to a rare few. Many are still struggling to put food on the table. While these things could be said before the pandemic, they are even more evident now.
As growing numbers of individuals face unemployment, food insecurity and lack of access to adequate healthcare, many are learning for the first time that it is virtually impossible to overcome these challenges without support from our government and communities. Although we have a new administration in place that appears ready to provide relief, will relief be timely – and will it enough?
If we fail to call attention to inequity within systems that are intended to serve us, we accept responsibility for a broken infrastructure. We are privileged to live in a country that is a democracy. We have the power to elect our officials, and we the right to protest – loudly – if our basic needs are not being met.
It is clear that the scale of the COVID-19 crisis has been underestimated. Many of us lived in isolation from one another for the greater part of last year and continue to live at a distance from loved ones in 2021. Our nation is in a state of collective grief and each of us carries that weight differently. We are grieving the lives of millions lost worldwide to COVID-19. We are also grieving a sense of reality that we know and trust.
The world has changed, and many things will be different now. Some are in denial, some are angry, others are anxious or fearful. I, for one, have felt helpless to help those who are suffering.
While these responses are valid, we must move toward acceptance of a new reality. We choose how we respond to our environment and continue to show up for our friends, neighbors and ourselves. In accepting the things we cannot change, we restore power to those we can.
Grace Korley is a lifelong activist and volunteer with Sarasota’s Harvey Milk Festival, where she is collaborating to bring greater visibility to LGBTQ+ people of color. She lives in Winter Park and is working toward a Master’s in Clinical Mental Health Counseling.
