My Privilege

Checking your privilege seems to be the latest meme.  It is a question posed, I gather, to white people and appears to me to be an assertion rather than a request to perform any sort of soul searching.  I understand that I am accused of being privileged because of my family background.  That is, because of my ancestors I have had a leg up on other members of society in competing for jobs and material things.  I freely admit that my ancestors by dint of their hard work, dedication to God and their families have bestowed an incalculable benefit on me; I am privileged to be one of their descendants. 

All of my great grandparents immigrated from England, Denmark and Sweden in the 1800's after they joined the LDS Church.  None of them was rich,  They were all of the lower classes in their native countries and all of them made the decision to sell everything they had and travel from their native lands to Deseret which at the time was not part of the United States.  All of my great grandparents traveled a thousand miles across the plains of what is now the Western United States by wagon and by handcart carrying with them only what they could carry and what would fit in a wagon, or in some cases a handcart.  None of them arrived in Deseret with more than a few cents to their name.  When they arrived in the mid 1800's, they found a community barely scratching an existence from the ground in almost desert conditions.  They lived at first in mud huts or holes in the ground until they could build by themselves with some neighborly help more suitable shelter.  Some were sent to outlying areas to colonize.  Those were required to start from scratch yet again after arriving and becoming somewhat established in Salt Lake City.

All of them worked hard and sacrifice for their posterity and taught their children who taught their children who taught me to work hard and sacrifice.  Slowly over the generations their material circumstances improved.  I still recall hearing from a cousin at my Uncle's funeral recalling his father's story about finding my Grandmother prostrate in tears on the floor because there was nothing to eat in the house and she did not know how she was going to feed her family.  But as I say, my family's fortunes improved with time and effort along with those of the rest of the Country.

  So yes I am privileged but not because of the color of my skin, but because of those who went before me and established a legacy of hard work and dedication that has been handed down to me through generations.  I have tried to pass these lessons to my own children and have tried to help others who are not part of my family establish the same traditions in their families so that their children and grandchildren can one day acknowledge the privilege bestowed on them by their ancestors.