Privilege is a thing that I have in abundance. As a white male there’s very little that the vast majority of our society will not allow me to do—at least in moderation. If I persecute a people group, or sexually harass a woman, or go on a killing spree the news will largely defend me or at worst point to the video games I play as the reason behind my actions. Maybe they’ll bring up my mental health issues, but eventually the spin would be what a kind person I was. No one would ever believe I could do such a thing. Meanwhile if a person of color (POC) did these things the very smallest details of their lives would be blown out of proportion to paint them in the most negative and inhuman light possible.

That’s the extreme 15-minutes of fame version though. There’s so many smaller ways that I benefit from an enormous amount of privilege. Let’s start with my upbringing. As the eldest of seven children things weren’t exactly plentiful—most of my life, that I can remember, there were at least 5 of us in the house. Now that’s not to say we went without. My father went to school for engineering and until recently has always held a job or ran a company that brought in enough money for us all to live quite comfortably.

I’ve had computers in my life for as long as I can remember. They always seemed to keep up with the new trends pretty quickly too. I’ve got an aptitude for them—or maybe it’s a product of that environment—and that has led me to a place in my life where I too have been able to hold well paying jobs. Jobs that give me access to, quite literally, more money than I know what to do with—”stupid money” as it’s been called. This is all without going to college and almost not graduating high school. I don’t even have any certificates to prove my knowledge of the things I work on everyday.

Our family is very religious, mired heavily into the conservative baptist and evangelical scenes by a history of missionaries, ministers, and choir and worship leaders. Most people I meet likely don’t know how well I can sing because of that upbringing. Nor do they know my love for old musicals like “My Fair Lady,” “Seven Brides For Seven Brothers,” “The Fiddler on the Roof,” and so many others. They don’t know that singing is one of the few things that truly allows me to center myself and process my emotions. This religious upbringing brought with it a lot of family stability and surprisingly little rebellious activity from me and my siblings. As the eldest I was held to a higher standard and my perfectionism allowed me to cling to that perception for quite a while. There’s still people to this day that see me as that good little Christian boy.

Much of this upbringing is only possible because I won the birth lottery and was born in the United States of America to stable and loving parents. A country where we nearly deify the Christian faith. It’s held up there with the vision of the perfect family with no divorce, no sex out of wedlock, and certainly no couples sleeping in the same bed—well at least on TV for a while there. Though to be fair the sleeping in the same bed thing isn’t necessarily the best for everyone. It also didn’t hurt being born in the era I was. An era where the draft wasn’t an issue and war didn’t hit too terribly close to home. A time when computers were just starting to take off. Science in general helping us live better and longer lives in a smaller and smaller world.

All that access to technology and new science let me self-educate quite a bit. It’s something I still do to this day. It’s only because of my privilege that I can even say that was an option for me. I had computers, that’s plural, at home and was able to buy my first computer while still in high school because I was given a job working for my Dad’s company. Having this technology at my fingertips gave me a huge advantage when it came to jobs that normally would have required me to have a college degree. My ex-wife has a double major, but the pay she received almost always paled in comparison to the money I could rake in just because I knew computers and was born male and white.

Another privilege I have—that allowed me to stay completely closeted for nearly 35 years—is that I’m heterosexual (het) passing. Cisgendered (cis), bearded, big guy with a deep voice and mostly hidden effeminate behaviors. Like a good strong man I buried my feelings and “unnatural” thoughts. I didn’t cry at my grandparents’ funerals. Nor for any of the other people I’ve loved that left this world.

Hating myself and supressing my feelings like that left me damaged and broken. I could avoid, and even join, in the ridicule of queer people. It was “all good” because I hated myself and definitely anyone that was as happy and loving as “those people” must be doing something wrong. Except that hate wasn’t just the overflow from myself it was also ingrained from the othering talk that we frequently partake in as members of conservative and devout communities. Bigotry and racism are sneaky and easy to indoctrinate children into. There’s a lot of privilege in participating in such a system despite the ironies of the gospel you’re preaching. Thank God that I actually heard and internalized those parts of scripture where we’re told to love our fellow man. If only I’d been better at practicing it.

One of the craziest privileges I have is just being a white male though. On a few of the past nights I’ve been walking alone down a dark path for hours at a time. Occasionally stopping to sit on a bench and catch my breath or just take in my surroundings. Not once did I worry about being followed just because I passed someone on the path. Neither did I have to fear a man in any state of dress approaching me to tell me this was their favorite spot. No men that thought I looked like someone they could date. Never did I worry that despite my size most anyone could take me in a fight with just a little bit of skill or luck. I didn’t text anyone where I was. There was no need to let someone know that I’d made it home safely and my door was locked.

At the same time I know that those behaviors are within me too. The fight to keep them inside is a constant struggle that I don’t always win. It’s amazing the damage that even a simple stare that lasts too long or a failed smile can do to a woman no matter their condition. I’ve stalked a few women in my life and while it was never peering through windows levels it doesn’t matter because even a simple act like lingering around without interacting is scary as hell for a woman. I’ve been abusive to women both physically and emotionally. Even so far as sexual harassment/assault. I won’t be going into details on any of that. Though I will say that it’s just insane that when I realized my errors and showed remorse and asked for forgiveness the women made excuses for my behavior for me. What have we come to when even women excuse our terrible behavior as men?

There’s constantly a struggle inside me to fight against my base urges. A battle to dispel the lies of the bigotry and racism I carry. A war to remember that other people have the same insecurities and fears and just want to be shown some kindness and some love. It’s a slow process and I seem to keep stumbling along the path.

So tonight I ask that we men—especially us white guys—shut up and listen to the women around us. I’ve found it incredibly helpful to follow a bunch of women on social media. Then all you white people out there let us do the same. We need to shut up and listen to the people of color struggling through a system designed to enhance whiteness. Again follow some people of color on social media.

Now that’s just the tip of the iceberg. Remember there’s a whole spectrum of people out there. Some of those people are disabled. Some don’t conform to heteronormativity. Some don’t conform to the gender binary. Some were misgendered at birth. Most aren’t overtly different, but still they fall into one or more marginalized groups. Most of them have been shouting to get their rights and respect for a very long time.

Shut up and listen! Then when you think you have something to say stay silent and listen some more. Even better signal boost without comment. Ask the people you’ve grown to admire if they want you to battle the trolls and the bigots that attack them. Not everyone does as that can just make things worse. It’s a hard lesson to learn. If something is egregious or violent block and report the offender. If for some insane reason you do feel the need to engage, do triple check that you haven’t tagged the victim into the conversation. Theses are all great rules for social media. The Middle Eastern Feminist has an excellent guide on how to intervene if you are witnessing racism or bigotry in real life (IRL).

So that was all pretty heavy. Like anything else in life though practice will make it easier. Oh and dudes because I know you’re going to be thick headed and weak about this read the entirety of Scott Barolo’s and shrew’s Twitter thread so that you get a few more reminders to shut up and listen.

To the women in my life I’m sorry. To those I’ve unleashed my hate or cruelty on I’m sorry.