While the result may be the same the reason for discrimination is different. Affirmative action, for example, is holding slots at the school for individuals of color because of the history of America's oppression of black people. It's an attempt to allow people of color to catch up after centuries of being kept out. What you call discrimination is white students being turned away because there aren't any slots left. While discrimination against blacks meant an entirely different thing.
However you wish to rationalize it, it’s legalized discrimination based on racial ancestry. If White Privilege exists, it’s a pretty useless privilege.
Oh, I don't know. I'm grateful that I was able to remain ignorant of the fact that some families (i.e. not-white families) have to have The Talk with their kids, especially their sons, about being pulled over by police officers. I've never had to deal with anyone assuming that I was an affirmative action hire/admit. I actually had never heard of redlining when we purchased our first home. As it turned out, we were reverse red-lined. It was only some years later when I realized that we had been carefully steered towards white neighborhoods by our realtor. In fact, when we bought our first home, it was in a racially diverse neighborhood and I found the listing, not my realtor who showed us zero homes in that neighborhood. It simply did not occur to me that race was a factor, even when she asked if we were Jewish and then said that if we were, we might be interested in some listings in a nice Jewish neighborhood she worked with. My naivite was possible because I could be naive. White people generally never think much about race in their daily lives.
I didn't worry that my sons would find themselves face down on the pavement if they ran a red light or would be in danger for walking down the wrong street.
Because I'm white, everyone just assumed I won my place in university, my scholarship, my grades, my place in society by my own hard work. I could walk around like I owned the place wherever I went, considering only if I had the money to buy my meal or whatever, never if I would be followed around in case I would steal or never turned away because of the color of my skin. That is a pretty big privilege.
We didn't get higher interest rates on our loans because of the color of our skin, which is something that to this day still happens to black people applying for mortgages. That's a pretty big advantage.
I've written about this before I think. Growing up, except for 1.5 years, I attended all white schools. In the first grade and half of second grade, my school had a handful of black students but was otherwise white. My family purchased its first home while I was in second grade and we would move over Christmas break. One day, in second grade, a week or so before Christmas break, my friend was mean to me and excluded me from playing in our friend group. I don't remember why, if I ever knew. I just knew I faced a lonely recess. We were lined up to go out to recess and ahead of me in line were 3 little girls who were black. I was fairly shy in those days, and hurting from my friend's mean words and I tapped on the shoulder of the girl just ahead of me and asked if I could play with her and her friends at recess. I remember her just looking at me, very kindly, and stroking my hair, the way that girls do. She told me that she thought I was a very nice girl, one of the nicest girls in the class and she would miss me after we moved but it wasn't a very good idea for us to play together on the playground.
This was something she HAD to know. And something I was able to never even consider. At 7 or 8 years old, this perfectly nice little girl had to bear the weight of knowing that if she played with a white child, there would be hell to pay---and she would pay it. And her family. Meanwhile, I could just feel a little sorry for myself and forget all about this incident for years. I got to be a kid years longer than that other little girl who was so nice to me.
I did, however, have to have a talk with my daughter about being careful about walking alone at night, even in our safe little town, and being careful not to be the only girl in a car full of boys. I will never forget the absolute fury in her eyes as she told me--and I tried to deny--that I never had to have that kind of talk with her brothers. But she was right and it wasn't fair but I still felt the need to caution my daughter because I knew too well the danger she could face that her brothers never would.
It's not nearly the same thing. I imagine black parents and sons must feel about a million times the fury my daughter felt. And I don't blame them.
