BWW Blog: My White Privilege

As a musical theatre major at the University of Miami, I never imagined that I'd be finishing the end of my junior year in quarantine with my family and spending my free time calling the Florida DEO. I wake up most mornings at 7:27 and groggily dial the Florida Unemployment number in hopes of getting on the line just in time for it to open at 7:30. Most days I don't get through to someone; some days I do. After two months of trying, I'm starting to feel discouraged... exhausted.

I had hoped that I'd be spending summer interning or performing in summer stock, not learning the fastest way to get through the DEO phone prompts.

I feel as if I have lost my freedoms to a virus. A virus that anyone around me could have, and it could take its toll on me at any moment. I keep wishing that I could go back to a time when the world was a better place... A better place... Was the world a better place before this virus forced us into quarantine? At first I think, "Of course it was!" I could work, visit my friends, study what I love, walk on the beach freely, and shop sale sections in high end stores that I can't afford.

Then, I reflect and realize that those are things that I, a white male, could do without any issue before the virus. Not just without issue, but without the chance of being harassed, attacked, or even killed for the color of my skin.

The reality is that the coronavirus will eventually end (if we continue to take precautions) and I can return to work, school, and the clearance rack at Urban Outfitters.

But there is a deadlier virus in this country that doesn't seem to be ending anytime soon. It is a virus that threatens the Black and African American community even deeper than anything I could imagine.

The systemic racism in this country is a gruesome virus that shows no mercy to people of color.

Although I know I will never understand the struggles that any POC faces, I imagine that it is somewhat like living in a community plagued by a sort of coronavirus on steroids. Living with the fear of an ever- present virus that could attack at any time. But that comparison isn't strong enough, because unlike the coronavirus, the racism virus does discriminate. That is its sole intention. It picks a target with laser focus and pins them down until they can't breathe.

The problems I face as a white man pale in comparison to the discrimination, attacks, and death threats that the Black and African American community face daily. I think back to how exhausted I felt with unemployment and realize that I don't even know what exhaustion means. My problems come and go, but systemic racism built on the backs of slavery has persisted in our nation for hundreds of years. When will it end?

For the artists reading this, this is the most important time in our recent history for you to create change. Artists are activist and advocates. If the world is at ease, then what is the point of your art? Use these tumultuous times to speak up, attend a rally, donate your time and money, and most importantly: listen to the Black and African American community. Reach out and ask what you can do for their community.

Lastly, it's not enough to be "not racist." We must be firmly anti-racist and call people out; even those who are close to us. As a friend of mine, Jordan Kiser, said, "when your racist grandma says some crazy stuff at Thanksgiving... call her out. Ruin Thanksgiving." Thank you, Jordan. Let us all go out and ruin Thanksgiving.

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