Reflection And Response To Privilege And Advocacy

A Reflection and Response to Privilege and Advocacy
Amy Henninger, MS and La Keita Carter, PsyD

I was surprised when Amy walked into supervision on that Thursday afternoon looking weighted. It wasn’t her typical look. Of course, it was the end of the term, so I attributed her weight to finals, projects, and other academic or clinical responsibilities. However, I was off…really off. She started by explaining what was on her supervision agenda, the first of which was the protests in Baltimore. I immediately noted the term ‘protests’ as opposed to ‘riots’ or ‘looting.’ She indicated that she had written down her feelings because she needed some space to express them and wanted to articulate herself well. Then, she read:

     It’s hard to know what my place is and what my role is in all of this. I’ve struggled with that since late high school, early college when I first was exposed to what my White privilege really means. Since then I’ve always considered myself a “White ally,” but still not really knowing how to effectively be that. I acknowledge that my privilege has allowed me to primarily feel this frustration and anger when major things happen and are brought to the forefront in the media, rather than every single day. I also know that my privilege gives me the capacity to “turn it off” or ignore what’s going on, but I don’t feel like I could even if I wanted to. I’ve had such a hard time this week maintaining normal conversations, and I’ve felt disbelief that anyone can just go about their normal day. I’ve been feeling so angry and frustrated and sad—those feelings being directed at the media, the government, and even the country as a whole. I know that my anger doesn’t hold a candle to a fraction of the anger felt every day for decades by people of color. However, I still wish I had a place to express this anger and sadness without it being dismissed, like “why are you angry, you’re White” or “yea, you may be frustrated but it’s nowhere near the same frustration people of color feel.”
     I also just wish I knew what more I could do. For a long time I have felt an overwhelming responsibility to use my privileged position to help, but I also feel a sense of powerlessness. I try my best to challenge friends when I hear them say ignorant things, whether about race or other cultural groups. Luckily, this doesn’t happen much, but a few times in my life I remember speaking up and being shut down as if I’m just being too sensitive. Additionally, I also am a person who takes a long time to process my thoughts and feelings so sometimes the moment to challenge inappropriate comments or behaviors slips by me before I can say something.
     I try to be aware and informed all the time, not just when major things are covered on the news. I try to maintain a heightened sense of awareness, but I still feel like it’s not enough and I don’t know what else to do. I see students of color in our program sticking together a lot and I understand why that would be helpful or even necessary. They have shared experiences I will never understand first-hand. However, I want to be viewed as an ally and a resource. I want to be seen as someone who is conscious of the social environment and its impact on people of different genders, races, etc. I want to be a trusted listener. I fear that people who don’t know me just see me lumped in with other White students that are probably not aware of privilege, unless I prove myself otherwise. I don’t know how to make myself an ally and a resource without appearing self-righteous or pompous. I just feel confused and powerless and responsible all at the same time and don’t know what to do with it.

Amy Henninger, 2nd year Doctoral Student
Loyola University Maryland

In her reflection statement she clearly feels a level of powerlessness and helplessness related to recent events in the City of Baltimore surrounding the death of Freddie Gray, a 25 year-old African American man who died in police custody after his spinal cord was severed. Police initially arrested him for the way he made eye contact with an officer, and by the time he arrived at the station, he was unconscious. He died one week later. As she states, she has noticed these feelings before, but questions how effective her advocacy can be when she is quickly dismissed as being “overly sensitive” or “self-righteous” after denying her unearned privileges or challenging inappropriate words, jokes or behaviors.
     The truth is that she is correct. Because she belongs to the race of privilege, she is part of the out-group—the group that peers through the window of racial injustice without an emotional understanding of the underprivileged. Yet she talks about wanting a clear distinction within the out-group that identifies those who watch the events unfold armed with empathy and those who do not. Being a part of the in-group is impossible as she can’t change her race. The closest that she can get is the “ally” label. Is that enough for her? No matter how much of an activist role she takes, she cannot walk literally in the shoes of the people around her, including her African American supervisor. She can jump in front of the moving train of microaggressions that are hurdled at her fellow students of color and community members, but her privilege will allow the train to come to a halting stop before it hits her.
     Make no mistake she will lose social capital by continuing on this path. It’s not an easy or popular path to advocate for the underprivileged in a way that doesn’t make the group feel like a cause. After all, if you are going to have a cause, then there must be a search for a cure like breast cancer or HIV. However, there is no cure for being a person of color living in the United States.
     Supervisees aren’t the only ones struggling to have these difficult conversations. Supervisors and clinic directors are struggling as well. I wanted to take away her powerlessness and give her a heaping shovel full of empowerment. She is admittedly much further along in her racial identity development than a lot of mental health professionals, let alone students. Supervisors can create a space that is supportive enough for this type of conversation to unfold. We can reflect on our own racial identity development. We can train supervisees about the role of social advocacy in the field of psychology.
     Interestingly, the same powerlessness and helplessness that she feels, I feel as her supervisor. She is confronting and struggling with dualities that have existed for people of color for centuries. Part of the response to her concerns is to sit with the discomfort…notice it…wonder about it…really feel it. The tendency will be to run away from it, but sitting in it is the only way to inch closer to the in-group’s reality. She can also work to correct the injustices that she sees on a smaller scale, knowing that each time she does she is making one drop in the bucket of social equality. Another option is to help make the social inequality bucket smaller. The good news is that those options aren’t mutually exclusive. We can make the social injustice bucket smaller while at the same time adding heavier nuggets of social justice.

“Never doubt that a small group of committed, thoughtful citizens can change the world. Indeed, it’s the only thing that ever has.” ~ Margaret Meade