One of the first places to start when thinking about or wanting to take action to dismantle racism at all levels (individual, interpersonal, institutional, and structural) is to dive into privilege.
Let’s begin with being able to name or identify privilege, which hopefully leads to deeper understanding, empathy, and action. First, a simple definition of privilege I use is unearned benefits or advantages based solely on one’s identity. Identities that are marginalized (or treated as less than) experience unearned disadvantages or consequences based solely on the identity. Understanding privilege can be a challenging process because we are complex beings. We do not hold just a single identity. We hold multiple identities and each of those will have varying levels of privilege and marginalization in our society. Any one individual can simultaneously have privileged identities and marginalized identities, making understanding our role(s) in perpetuating oppressive systems all the more complicated.
The notion that we receive unearned benefits and disadvantages based on factors outside of our control counters deep-rooted values in the U.S., particularly those of individualism, merit, and personal responsibility. These cultural values reinforce our beliefs that our success and our failure are due to us – our efforts and our choices. Certainly, some of these factors come into play, but based on a combination of our identities, we hold a myriad of unearned advantages and disadvantages due to factors outside of our control (including, but not limited to, where in the world we born, our family histories, social circumstances, etc.). As I have been facilitating trainings and engaging in more open conversations about race, I have found that it can be helpful for folks who are new to understanding white privilege to start by thinking about ability privilege because it can seem more concrete or tangible for white, able-bodied people to see their ability privilege and then start applying that practice to seeing their white privilege.
Understanding Ability Privilege
It is easy for me to see ability privilege because I had polio when I was 6 months old, and have used a wheelchair all my life. I have grown up and am surrounded by able-bodied friends, family members, and colleagues, and so talking about ability is definitely easier for me. Though I am a person of color too, most of the times I have experienced challenges or “disadvantages” have been related to my use of a wheelchair. There have been times where race, age, or gender were also at play, but the most striking experiences that have endured in my memory are related to ability.
A good example of ability privilege in action is when colleagues at my organization have chosen venues for retreats that aren’t fully accessible (including having accessible bathrooms or parking). One year, our retreat was on a boat. I know my colleagues who planned the event made sure I could get onto the boat, but no one thought about checking if the bathrooms were wide enough for my chair to access, or talked to me to see if there was anything they should take into consideration or ask the venue about beforehand. All of my colleagues talked about how great it was that the boat ride included adult beverages to enjoy; I opted not to partake so I wouldn’t need to use a bathroom until we returned to land. Even then, I wasn’t sure there was an accessible bathroom by the dock, so I also planned to have to wait until I got back to the office. For another event two years later, the planners did not check in advance to see if there was accessible parking or an accessible entrance to the restaurant, which meant I joined about 20 minutes late because I had to circle the location to find an accessible parking space down the street and then wait for a colleague to help me inside. All of the hassle could have been avoided if the planners had called or scouted the location in advance. The fact that none of them investigated in advance reflects their ability privilege. Able-bodied people do not have to think about accessible parking or more specifically van accessible parking, or about the width of bathroom or stall doors.
Lack of Privacy or Anonymity
Less obvious privilege that comes with being able-bodied includes privacy. I used to joke with friends at school about how I could never really skip or sneak out of class because it was so much more apparent if I was there or not. Usually the accessible seating is in the front of the class, closest to professors or teachers. It didn’t really bother me at the time, as it was just something that had always been my reality. However, in work settings, this lack of privacy or anonymity has been more challenging. I am fortunate that my work place is not strict about our daily schedules. However, because the only parking space for the building that works for my van lift is not actually designated as an accessible space, it will on occasion get taken by someone else. When this happens, I have to call a coworker in our office to have them find out who owns the car and ask them to move it. The worst case scenario is when I’m running a little late and just want to quickly get inside to my office, but my colleague ends up asking everyone, including my supervisor, whose car is in the space. Now, my supervisor has never cared about when I get to the office, but any other colleague would have been able to sneak in and have their supervisor be none the wiser. That’s ability privilege.
Another example is during our meetings. We often use white boards or poster paper with prompts so everyone can give anonymous feedback or answers. However, the white boards are designed for people to use while standing, so I can only reach the bottom portion. Far too often, facilitators put poster paper at a level that works if you’re standing or they’ll invite groups to lay them out on the floor, which I also can’t reach. This means that it will always be obvious which comments are mine. I cannot give anonymous feedback. Other times, we’ll use sticky notes, but if we’re in more crowded rooms, I will have to ask someone to put my notes up. Even if they don’t read them in that moment, when we’re all looking at the final list, they’ll know which ones were mine. Everyone else gets to give anonymous feedback. I cannot.
These examples also show the complexities of privilege in that they also reflect my class privilege along with privileges associated with education levels and type of work I can do. I not only own a car, but I also had it modified with the necessary hand controls and lift equipment to allow me to drive independently. I am able to work for an organization that can reserve (for the most part) a non-designated parking space just for me and gives me the flexibility to arrive to work on my own schedule without consequences.
Small Things Have a Big Impact
Other than the accessible bathroom example, I have chosen to highlight relatively “minor” examples of how I’ve encountered ability privilege to try to emphasize how easily someone can take their privilege for granted or just not see it or think about it. Further, the example about just wanting to get to my desk without my boss knowing exactly what time I arrived is not a life -threatening or -altering issue, but it points to the underlying freedoms and benefits that able-bodied people have simply because of their bodies. When these little examples get repeated continuously over time, they accumulate and have greater impact. White privilege plays out similarly, though with more drastic and harmful implications (e.g. different encounters cumulatively with police).
Take Action: Start Noticing
Most spaces and places are designed for able-bodied and/or standing individuals. Even with the Americans with Disabilities Act, which has certainly helped ensure that more businesses are accessible for people with disabilities, there are still so many little things that privilege abled-bodies. The next time you go to a store, think about the height of signs, or the placement of the credit card machines. If you drive a car, look at how many accessible parking spaces there actually are, and how many can accommodate a van with a passenger side lift that needs 7 feet of space to work. Further, if you’re running in and out of a store in 15 minutes or less, think about your privilege in being able to move that quickly (to park, get out of the car, go into the store, grab what you need, and be back in the car driving again in less than 15 minutes). When you use the restroom, think about how heavy the door is to pull or push open and pause to see if there is an accessible stall and whether the door opens in or out (sometimes, even “accessible bathrooms” don’t actually provide enough space to go in and completely close the door once a wheelchair is inside).
Take Action – Become a Co-conspirator
Bettina Love talks about the difference between being an ally and being a co-conspirator in her book, We Want to Do More Than Survive: Abolitionist Teaching and the Pursuit of Educational Freedom (Beacon Press, 2019). While an ally may know and even see privilege, a co-conspirator is willing to take risks personally or put themselves on the line for others who don’t have such privilege. I also see co-conspirators as being the ones who will speak up when things are not accessible or do the advance research so I don’t always have to be the one to say something. It already takes more time and energy to navigate the physical world. It requires even more vulnerability and energy to have to ask for support (because you’re admitting you can’t do something). When co-workers are willing to ask the questions, do the advance research, or suggest finding an alternate meeting location that’s more accessible, it means I can take a momentary break from having to focus on the needs of my disability and just focus on being present.
It took me a long time to start naming or openly discussing my frustrations when encountering obstacles or when I felt like others hadn’t considered my accessibility needs. For so long, I think I just wanted friends, colleagues, even family members to just not see my chair as a burden, extra hassle, or anything as “different” from them. So, I minimized, adapted, or made do with whatever situations came up. However, I have started to change that. When choosing to try out a new restaurant, I now ask my able-bodied friends to call ahead for me to see if they have accessible bathrooms, especially if it’s a place they chose. For work, we often (well, used to, pre-COVID) visit youth programs to observe their activities. I used to call the program myself to find out about parking and the accessibility of the program space, but now I ask my able-bodied colleagues to do it if they want me to go there. I ask them to be coconspirators. I ask them to use their time and energy to research so I can save some of my time and mental energy. Instead of having to think about accessibility of the space I’m going to visit, I can just prepare to focus on the work I’ll be doing while I’m there.
Continue the Work
I hope you continue reading and learning more about privilege. Ijeoma Oluo has a great chapter on checking your privilege in her book, So You Want to Talk About Race. I hope you start noticing and observing. As you start to see more and more instances of ability privilege, I encourage you to start extrapolating from ability privilege to think about what other kinds of privilege you have. What privileges show up in your work? In your social gatherings? In your family interactions? I hope you reflect on past experiences where your privilege was in full action. How might you act differently now?