Trayvon Martin was a black teenage boy. He was walking home from the convenience store when he caught the attention and ire of George Zimmerman. Perceived as a \u201cpunk\u201d and a threat, Martin was accosted by the older man, and a physical altercation ensued. Trayvon Martin died when he was shot through the heart at close range. Though Florida\u2019s expansive \u201cStand Your Ground\u201d laws were invoked in media conversations, that defense never even entered into the trial. Zimmerman was acquitted when a jury decided he\u2019d killed Martin in self-defense. Zimmerman has since said Martin\u2019s death was \u201cGod\u2019s plan.\u201d<\/p>\n
Some Americans believe that race was not central to this killing or to the case that followed\u2014they have believed it from February 2012 right up until today. But ask yourself: How many times you have been stopped and harassed because you looked threatening or suspicious wearing a hooded sweatshirt? For me, an Asian American female, that number is zero.<\/p>\n
Yes, my gender alone distinguishes me from Trayvon Martin, but my partner Mike is a white male, and he, too, can only say \u201cZero.\u201d We have never been stopped nor questioned, no matter how many times we\u2019ve pulled on our hooded sweatshirts for warmth (and, in my case, to hide sea-tangled hair) after early morning surfing.<\/p>\n
Stopping for breakfast or to run errands, Mike and I may not look polished in our hoodies, but we\u2019ve also never had to worry that our appearance would cause suspicion. That\u2019s privilege. It\u2019s such a privilege, this presumed innocence of ours, that the morning after Zimmerman was acquitted, we went ignored even while acting suspiciously. Hoodies up, we casually stopped to look at a condo for rent in an affluent beach community in southern California. We knew from the online ad that the condo was vacant, so we parked outside, walked up the stairs to the unit, and peered into its windows. We sauntered around the grounds and walked into the unlocked community laundry room and garage. Several neighbors saw us, and they smiled.<\/p>\n
I couldn\u2019t help but think that the scenario would have been very different if Mike and I were black. Mike and I don\u2019t have to wear our class in order to obviate being treated like threats or criminals; we can wear hoodies and board shorts without worrying that others will be suspicious, fearful, or make assumptions about our class status. Just being \u201cnot black\u201d affords us this benefit of the doubt. It is a privilege because it is not something we have earned, but it is gifted to us every day regardless. I have always known about my privilege\u00a0intellectually<\/i>, but I\u00a0felt<\/i>\u00a0it keenly last Saturday.<\/p>\n
That some are afforded this privilege while others are systematically denied should make us all more empathetic. People perceive and experience the same event differently, depending on visible status markers such as race, gender, age, and class. Such status markers are more than just categories, they form a \u201csystem of social practices\u201d that organize social relations. Status markers presume difference, and so people will react to and engage with Mike or with me differently than they would with someone like Trayvon Martin, even when we\u2019re dressed the same.<\/p>\n
We would like to believe that we don\u2019t make assumptions based on race or gender, but evidence proves otherwise, as this social experiment of three individuals (a white male, a black male, and white female) trying to steal a bike clearly reveals:<\/p>\n