Dear Mr. VP,
Well hello from Bradley International Airport, where I am awaiting a flight to Chicago for a weekend with thirty moms.
I’ve been thinking a lot about white privilege lately, and how it manifests in my own life and the happenings around me. In the moments before I board my flight, I’d like to make a note of something that just happened.
I sucked it up and paid $25 to check a bag so I didn’t have to deal with it on the plane and I could also pack my conditioner without worrying about putting it in a TSA approved container and bag. Chatting with the lady taking my bag, I overheard the conversation next to me.
“Sir, are you checking any lithium batteries or e-cigarettes?”
“No, just forty pounds of cocaine and some hookers.”
“I mean, AT LEAST I DIDN’T SAY I HAVE A BOMB, RIGHT?”
I waited for this bro next to me to be tackled by the TSA. And nothing happened. He kept making shitty jokes. Nothing happened. I was like, why isn’t the lady pressing the emergency button under the counter to get the guys who must exist at every airport to tackle this dude.
Ohhhhh because he’s white.
Imagine if someone with brown skin joked about having drugs, sex workers, and a bomb in his luggage? I would have had to duck to avoid the immediate influx of men to cart him away.
But nah, this white dude went on his merry way, on his flight to Whiteville, probably unfortunately unaware of both his privilege and his complete and utter idiocy.
Anyway. Chicago here I come!