Unpacking my invisible knapsack

Peggy McIntosh’s essay White Privilege: Unpacking the Invisible Knapsack inspired me to think critically about how privilege affects my life, and the racial privilege I enjoy. Unlike McIntosh, I cannot claim to benefit from white privilege in the way she, as a white woman, does. In fact, if my high school friends were around me, they would playfully remind me that I have a nopal en la frente (a prickly cactus on my forehead), meaning that I’m visibly Latinx. That’s not to say, however, that I don’t benefit from white privilege in certain contexts. Indeed, I benefit from colorism.

I’m driven to unpack my invisible knapsack because I vehemently believe in owning one’s s**t—in taking stock of the ways in which one’s race, gender, economic class, education, habitus, etc., facilitate or hinder one's life outcomes. Indeed, unpacking one's invisible knapsack entails bringing into consciousness the thoughts one selectively disregards to avoid confronting or admitting how they benefit from systems of power. For example, I’ve succumbed many times to the delusion that I made it and deserve to be in law school solely because of my hard work ethic, just like some of my classmates do. But I've made it law school for so many other reasons than a hard work ethic. I wouldn't be in law school had my father not toiled tirelessly as a gardener, or my mother not cleaned up after wealthy individuals in their houses. I get it though: it’s “cute” and psychologically advantageous to think in individualistic ways, but doing so doesn’t make that lie anymore true.

In her article, McIntosh accounts for how she benefits from structural systems of power. In writing, “when I am told about our national heritage or about ‘civilization,’ I am shown that people of my color made it what it is,” she acknowledges that she benefits from history's Euro- and Anglo-centrism. Her personal confession helps disrupt toxic assumptions about history and knowledge as operating outside the reach of power, when in fact both are forged by and are a source of power. (See Discipline and Punish, by Michel Foucault.) And when she writes, “I can, if I wish arrange to be in the company of people of my race most of the time,” she draws attention to structural systems of power, such as social networks, employment, and housing practices, that make it easier for whites to associate with only whites.

Whereas McIntosh listed conditions that “attach somewhat more to skin-color privilege than to class, religion, ethnic status, or geographic location,” I'm hesitant to draw lines among the intersecting axes oppression that shape my life. I’m not just a broke immigrant, Latinx, femme-bear joto; I’m all of those things at once.

Here is my evolving list:

(1) Despite being born into a low-income Latinx family, I have a better chance of ascending to a higher class than some other ethnic/racial groups.

(2) When interacting with the police, I'm less likely to be shot by them if I'm unarmed.

(3) As a lighter-skinned Latinx, I can walk into a room knowing that others will not demean my intelligence as harshly as they would were I darker.

(4) It's easier to think of Latinx senators in D.C. as vying for and representing my interest since they are lighter skinned like me.

(5) As a lighter skinned Latinx immigrant, I can navigate and access certain spaces more easily (e.g., bookstores, public libraries, movie theaters, public buildings) because whites don’t immediately see me as threatening.

(6) Were I looking to do drag for a night, I could easily find my shade of foundation or powder at various price points.

(7) I can easily lose myself in a good telenovela because the majority of characters are lighter-skinned like me, and tha extends to the majority of Spanish-speaking programming.

(8) ...

As my list grows, I hope it inspires others to question the role privilege (of any form) plays in their lives, just like McIntosh’s essay did for me. And I hope the exercise fosters greater empathy and understanding in them.