Privilege

I talk a lot about injustice in this country.  I write from my point of view as an African American female.  It may, therefore, seem a bit strange for me to write about privilege, but today I got a unique glimpse of it.

If you know me, you know I've been a season ticket holder for the NY Liberty for years.  As I've been able, I've gradually moved my seat up; in their last full season at Madison Square Garden, I sat right behind the MSG announcers and made a game of photobombing their interviews.  Since the move to a much smaller venue up north, I've graduated to feet-on-the-floor, a luxury I could never afford, even for women's ball, at MSG.

Today the team was back at MSG, and my seat was moved up a bit to be beside the announcers instead of behind them.  I got to engage in the old familiar banter with the reporters, the camera people, and all the statisticians who are constantly scurrying to and fro.  Most of them work for MSG and are not assigned up north, so this was the first time this season I've seen some of them.  From sales reps to security guards to people manning the Delta Club, there was a brief feeling of "coming home."

So it wasn't at all unusual that my cameraman friend got me on camera.  That's my normal.  As I left the Garden, I was surprised at the number of people telling me how good I looked on TV, how I was a star, etc, etc.  I think it's because when I'm on camera, I'm calm and waving to everyone, just like the celebrities do.  This is in contrast to the people who get on and engage in wild antics (I used to think they were drunk, but this was a morning game and no alcohol was served), or the kids who are so hyped they literally look like they're on film that's being fast-forwarded.  There are, of course, the shy ones, but there are more of the types who clamor and climb over each other to get on camera, or to get to touch the mascot or to get a player's attention after the game.

I was watching a group today, and was about to be judgemental when I realized my privilege.  No, the players don't know me by name, though many recognize my face, but I'm often on the jumbotron and apparently have been on the screen at the smaller venue -- this isn't uncommon when you sit with feet on the floor.  The mascot plays with you, the cameras are on you, you make sure to move your feet out of the way of the players and the refs -- that,  plus a dedicated catering menu and/or private entrances, are simply part of the package I've bought. I got to 15-18 home games a year, and have done so for several years.  It's not a big deal.  But then I thought about the folk for whom it is a rare privilege to sit anywhere other than in a nosebleed seat at MSG.  I thought about the 20,000 people the stadium can hold, and the fact that only perhaps 20 -- or let's say 50 -- have the chance to have a cameo on the jumbotron.  Of course it's a big deal to them.

That led me to thinking about privilege in society.  Those who "have" or have access to certain privileges may not, without intentionally seeking to do so, understand the environment or perspective of those who live without privilege.  Those who live with privilege may not recognize their own privilege, or may identify more with the effort it took to gain that privilege than with the results of that privilege.  If someone were to call me elitist for entering the Garden through a private entrance, I would explain how much I love basketball and hate crowds, how hard I work, what I sacrifice to pay for the tickets, and how much I need the release, all of which justify my being in the position of privilege.  Unless I'm bringing my clients (who will use donated tickets and to whom we try to give a decent allowance to purchase snacks at the exorbitant MSG prices), unless my clients are attending a game, I'm not very intentional about the fact that I can avail myself of amenities unavailable to others; to me, these seem like perks that I deserve.  In society, when people are said to be privileged, they may be unwilling or unable to see how others live without that privilege.  Privilege in and of itself is not a bad thing; you could, for instance, take your free food and snacks and share with people who have none, and the reason we actually have to wear non-removable wristbands is because Rangers fans used to take their wristbands and give them to their friends (wristbands identify who gets access to what).

One of the benefits of a diverse society is that we are all privileged, in some way, to some extent or the other.  I think it's important for us to begin to recognize the areas in which we exercise both privilege and power.  Perhaps we can share the benefits with one another.  It doesn't mean I have to give up my courtside seats; perhaps it just means that I need to respect the awe, delight, and desire of the folk who don't routinely sit in them.