Peter Watts and Smug White Privilege

Ask a black person about white privilege, and you'll get a knowing smile. Ask a white person and they'll tilt their head like a confused dog. What are you talking about?

The idea is that, merely by being white in America, someone is surrounded by a variety of privileges, most of them minor in themselves, but which add up to a superior status. Be anything but white, say a lot of black people, and you'll find out just how unprivileged you are. Police will deal with you as a suspect. Cab drivers won't pick you up after dark. Waiters won't serve you very quickly. Shopkeepers will follow you around the store. Doormen at bars will look for ways to exclude you.

It goes on and on. And it's not just the little stuff. Try getting an interview for that crucial first job out of college if your resume mentions that you were president of the African-American Business Association. See what happens if you are stopped for speeding while racing to the hospital because your wife was hit by a car and is dying. Be the best golfer in the world, and find out how quickly it doesn't matter when it's discovered you've been screwing every blond chick on the PGA Tour.

White people see little or none of this, little or big, and tend to be incredulous and laughably defensive when it's pointed out. Yet, no matter what, they will cling to their privileges to the bitter end. One of them being the idea that they can hassle the police in course of their duties, and get away with it. And if they're Canadian, and a writer, and have a doctorate, Katie bar the door.

It reminds me of when I was driving a cab to get through college. I gave a ride to a white, female professor. We got to her destination in the middle of a driving rainstorm. Her bicycle was in the trunk, and she expected that I would get out of the taxi, in the rain, and grab her bicycle for her. It wasn't a heavy bike, and the trunk was already open. She had to get out of the vehicle anyway, so I told her she could get her bike on the way inside.

Indignant, she got her bike and started walking away. I called over to her, and she came over to the window and told me she wasn't going to pay the fare. What good would it go for me to have gotten out, I asked her. All that would've accomplished is that two of us would get wet, when only one of us needed to. Not only that, but I don't have anywhere to dry off, and I need to work for the rest of the day. You can just go inside and grab a towel.

It didn't matter. In her mind, I was supposed to get wet for her. In her case, it was white class privilege. I was a taxi driver, a servant, and for some reason I was obligated to suffer. It's a good thing for me that I wasn't black, because when I grabbed that woman's wrist through the open window of my cab, held her there in the rain, and radioed in for the police to be sent, I knew that I wouldn't be arrested for it. In fact, the police came and told her to pay the fare. She did so, and called the cab company after she dried off.

At the end of my shift, the dispatcher asked me whether I had really told her that she'd never worked a goddamned day in her life and that no one was going to take my money away from me. No, of course not, I said, with a smile. I'd never say such a thing. Not ever.

Back to poor, smug Peter Watts. There he was at the border. Apparently, white privilege doesn't cut it at the Port Huron crossing. Maybe they've busted too many mild-mannered Canadians with drugs in the trunk. Or maybe they've taken those lectures to heart about being 60 miles from Detroit and you'd better treat everyone the same, or your ass will be in a serious sling.

Who knows? I'm sure that Mr. Watts would vigorously deny that he expects special treatment, but you really have to be part of the Smug White Asshole Class to think it's okay to start a confrontation with a border patrol officer, disobey that officer's reasonable orders, and resist arrest.

And what of Mr. Watts's equally smug, lily-white fan club, some of whom have been posting blog comments to the effect that hard-ass tactics would be okay on the Mexican border, but not on the Canadian border? I could be wrong about this, but I'll be surprised if Peter Watts is getting any upsurge of support out of the African-American community for his juvenile little stunt at the Port Huron border crossing.

A Fun Fact to Know and Tell


On his blog where critics are now barred for asking inconvenient questions, Peter Watts has ridiculued the idea that he could have been screened as a terrorist.

Hey Peter, remember the millenium plot? You know the one that was foiled by a U.S. Customs inspector in Port Angeles, Washington not long before Jan. 1, 2000? Want to know how that was foiled? I have the inside skinny, told to me by a senior officer of the Canadian military who was posted in Victoria, B.C. at the time.

The U.S. Customs inspector wasn't the one who fingered the would-be terrorists. What actually happened is that they were profiled by Canadian border guards on their exit from Victoria. Interestingly enough, Canadian and U.S. law enforcement work together. The Canadians told the Americans, and the people were rousted at the dock in Washington State.

Of course, white Canadians could never, ever be involved in terrorism, just as white Americans couldn't be. Just ask Timothy McVeigh, you fool.