I don’t think the phrase white privilege really captures the white experience with race. Class is an important element that has an effect on low-income whites. Privilege isn’t the word that these people would use to describe their life, so they resist this idea. In this polarized political atmosphere,  I’m not sure there is any way or words to change their minds. I would like to try though because there is an advantage to life in USA if you are white. Some whites get more benefits for their race than other whites. But the advantage does exist. I can best illustrate this advantage through my personal experiences with the police when I was between the ages of 13 and 18.  

During my adolescence, I had at least five contacts with the police departments located in the suburban Kansas City neighborhood where I grew up. I would say that there were no real crimes involved, more of a rambunctious teenager getting into trouble but in each and every case I possessed marijuana and in some cases I was as high as a kite. The police in a city like New York could have used the stop and frisk policy to send me to juvenile detention. They didn’t though.

My first experience with the cops was when a friend of mine and I found an old street sign in an alley. It looked like it had recently been removed and a new sign was posted. The sign was attached to the post with a large block of cement at the end.  My friend wanted the street sign but we didn’t have any tools to remove the sign from the pole. My friend feared that someone else would find this treasure, so we decided to lug sign, pole and cement block to his house where we could remove it. As we carried the post across the busiest street in our little town, the local cops stopped us and let us know that we couldn’t have the sign. We actually argued with them because we said it was just lying in the alley. The cops disagreed with our logic. They called my Dad who instructed me to do whatever the cops said and to get home. My Dad didn’t even have to come and collect me.  The cop made sure we returned the sign to where we found it and that was that.  

The next time, one of my passengers in my car dinged the door of the brand-new truck parked next to us. The truck owner, needless to say, was angry because his once perfect truck was now imperfect.  He called the cops.  The truck owner got even angrier because he realized we were high on grass and happily pointed this out to the cops. My Dad was called to collect us. The man calmed down after he had trouble locating the damage to his truck. The cop kept asking do you really want to report this. The man, much calmer at this point, decided not to. So, by the time Dad arrived the problem was sorted. Neither the Truck driver nor the cop mentioned the pot smoking to my Dad.  No crime was reported despite me reeking of marijuana.

Then I was at a high school’s dance, my date and I ducked out of the dance to my car for a joint. As we returned to the dance, a policeman stopped us as he noticed us in the car. He made us return to the car and shined his flashlight into the car. I’m not sure what he was looking for but all he found was a six pack of beer. Neither me nor my date were of age, so he made us dump the six pack. Again, no crime was reported despite me reeking of marijuana.

My most serious altercation with the cops came when the police stopped me because he saw a passenger in my car passing a joint. I was caught red handed with pot. My friends and I were hauled down to the local police station where our parents were called.  The police weaved a terrible future for us, going to court, possibly juvenile detention.  Not only was I in trouble with the law but my parents would definitely find out that I was smoking pot. Plus, I also demonstrably lied to my mother about where I was going. I told her I was going to the library and I was miles away from the library and in completely the wrong direction from the library to our house.  Because the cops found the pot illegally and admitted as much to all the parents who, I might add, weren’t in the least big angry about this illegal search and seizure. Now, I believed the cops just wanted to scare a bunch of teenagers and had no intention of arresting us.  They let my Dad take care of the punishment which he did. I got off scot free for possession charges and the only crime noted was me driving with an open can of beer in the car.

The next incident, my friends and I were driving by a road construction site and one of my passengers decided he wanted one of the orange pylons on the side of the road. I drove him close enough to one so he grabbed it and I fled the scene with our take. Because I was driving, and the construction crew had my license number, several days later the police came to my house to retrieve the pylon.  As my parents were out of town at the time I took this opportunity to spend the day getting high. I was barely coherent when the policeman arrived. He was kind enough to ignore my condition and just asked for me to return the pylon. No crime was recorded for the pylon or the pot.  

My last run in with the cops was when a friend of mine was having an informal party because his parents were out of town.  People just showed up at his front lawn.  By the time I arrived, there was only room on the public sidewalk. Soon after the cops arrived. For some reason the host thought the cop looked like Barney Fife, the hapless cop from the Andy Griffith show, so he began to taunt the cop with Barney Fife remarks from the safety of his front porch.  The host absolutely forbid Barney Fife from entering his yard without a warrant. He could remove the people from the sidewalk however.  I was, unfortunately, on the sidewalk. As I was underage and had a beer in my hand. I also had a bag of weed in my front pocket. Other than losing one more beer to the sidewalk, the cops left without further incident.

I believe this is what should happen when cops and teenagers come into contact with each other. In each case, the cops, even when they dealt with argumentative teenagers, handled the problem without incident.  Or, if it was a more serious situation, they informed my parents that there was a problem and got them to deal with it. Remarkably soon after I turned 18, I became somewhat more responsible as I don’t recall any further incidents where I was carrying pot when stopped by a cop.  I grew up. I made better decisions.

Would I have had the same experience if I had been black?  I don’t know but I seriously doubt it. The difference is when white cops stopped me, they, maybe saw their own kids and knew that one day soon this kid will be all right. Does the cop make the same connection when he sees a black kid? Or does he see a future criminal who needs to be dealt with now in order to stop future crime? This perception makes a world of difference in how a person is treated.

It also skews crime statistics.  If the police wanted to pursue me, I would have been found guilty five times for marijuana possession. The cops decided to handle things differently. If I had been searched legally, which the cops could have easily managed, I would have had five charges of possession of marijuana. So, when commentators talk about the difference between white crime and black crime, keep in mind that a black teenager who had his marijuana possessions recorded would look like bigger trouble than me even though the police could have charged me with possession numerous times.

Police have a bit of grace in how they enforce the law. It’s subtle, unmeasurable so difficult to see. It does, however, exists. I know because I have experienced it. If I had been black these five experiences with the cops may have had different outcomes. But lucky for me, I was white and middle class and my youthful indiscretions have had little impact on my present life.