Nicola Alpe is a Kiwi usually living in Los Angeles navigating Americans, motherhood and bad traffic. She's currently on an extended trip back to New Zealand.
COMMENT:
Our month-long vacation has turned into over four months away from home. The feeling of being home but not really home is nothing new to me. I often feel as if I am sliding between different friends, different routines and trying desperately to keep myself established in both worlds.
Expats will agree it's awful to watch tragedy unfold from afar. I was in a hotel room in Sydney when I learned of the Pike River mine disaster and sifting through a box of correspondence in Queensland watching the Christchurch earthquake coverage. I was at a school fundraiser in LA the night a friend passed me her phone with a notification about the Christchurch mosque shootings.
My phone blew up at a Perth airline counter at 4am about Kobe Bryant's helicopter crash. I've been in New Zealand throughout Covid, unable to identify with friends at home for nigh on three months. Now I sit in the safety of my Covid-free living room tearfully watching Santa Monica, LA and swathes of America unravel. Again.
Already on a knife edge from months of being told to stay at home, rising unemployment and no single, reasonable voice, I believe Americans were nearing their tipping point and the tragedy of George Floyd's death has pushed them over. The concept of a tipping point is, "that magic moment when an idea, trend, or social behaviour crosses a threshold, tips, and spreads like wildfire." In this case, like riot fire.
I used to hate the oft-used American term "white privilege". I can't change the colour of my skin and I wasn't going to be apologetic about the way I was born. That in itself shows I didn't understand, but I am learning. Website tolerance.org says that "white privilege is not the suggestion that white people have never struggled." It's also not the assumption that white people have not earned what they have achieved. Francis E. Kendall comes close to a definition and says that white privilege is, "having greater access to power and resources than people of colour [in the same situation] do."
The site goes on to say that "white people become more likely to move through the world with an expectation that their needs will be readily met. People of colour move through the world knowing their needs are on the margins. Recognising this means recognising where gaps exist."
In America white people are less likely to be deemed suspicious. They are more often granted the benefit of the doubt. Cosmetics, hair care, flesh-tone plasters, a "nude" high heel or lipstick are all predominantly geared towards white women.
Social media is abuzz with ways to help understand something new to many of us. One says "white privilege doesn't mean your life hasn't been hard. It means your skin tone isn't one of the things making it harder." Writer Quinta Brunson tweeted, "Being black is having a good day and then seeing another black person was killed for no reason. Then you have to think about / talk about that all day. Or don't and numb yourself. It's a constant emotional war". People I know walk that tightrope every day.
Moments ago, I kissed my daughter goodnight. We will face our battles as she grows up, but I won't need to worry about her the way Christian Cooper's - a black man who recorded a disturbing confrontation with a white woman a few days ago - family has to. Aiyana Jones' grandma didn't think she needed to worry, then her grandaughter was shot in the head by a police officer in 2010. Jones was just seven years old. Twenty-two-year-old Oscar Grant was killed by a police offer in 2009. His mother would have worried about him every day.
I hate that if things don't change in America, some of my friends will have to worry about their kids; about them wearing a hoodie like 17-year-old Trayvon Martin who died after being shot. He was unarmed. Or simply being in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Being free of these worries is white privilege.