Last night, my husband and I had a friend over for dinner. The conversation among the three of us lasted long past Taco Tuesday fare and a somewhat strange choice of dessert. In fact, I don't think I've ever had tacos and chocolate mousse together in one meal, and I blame myself for not choosing a more suitable combination of foods. Fortunately, I don't think the odd mixture troubled anyone at the table except for me.
But, I digress (as usual).
During almost four hours together, we covered a substantial amount of food and a broad range of topics. The evening felt both refreshingly normal and strangely unusual. To be able to talk about so many things freely without judgement or anger making it impossible to consider how others see and process the world-- seems to have become an unfortunate rarity at the American dinner table.
At one point, our freely meandering conversation wandered into the "luck" that both men at the table had enjoyed in their careers in terms of both financial and professional success. Before I could stop it, the words "white male privilege" jumped out of my mouth, unimpeded by any level of censorship that I might have imposed on my words if I had stopped to think about what I was saying.
To my surprise, there was no angry or hostile response. Instead, I had the pleasure of hearing a clear acknowledgment of that privilege. Even further to my surprise, our friend/guest expressed a sense of responsibility for caring for and protecting those who lacked such privilege, particularly women. My husband often speaks to how much he would like to protect me and see me protected from the perils that accompany being a woman in engineering. To be in the presence of two men who thought that way -- temporarily left me speechless.
It made me wonder why I was so shocked by the lack of anger and hostility in the room and left me doing a deep dive into thinking about Who is actually responsible for protecting the vulnerable in our society and What they should be doing and Why it has become offensive to talk about Who and What.
I am often distressed as to why so many Americans seem to have lost sight of our collective, community obligation to speak up for and protect the vulnerable. Although the United States still rates highly in terms of generosity in terms of both time and money (#6 in 2024, according to the World Giving Index), it seems like we have an increasingly narrow idea of who our vulnerable populations are.
Somewhere along the line, we have forgotten that vulnerable populations are everywhere -- even in the affluent United States. And, by extension, we are all vulnerable in some way, shape, or form -- although some are much more so than others. Instead, we seem to have created sharp, dividing lines between the vulnerable and the privileged or powerful -- and have acquired the habit of withdrawing our compassion for those who are vulnerable once they speak out in their defense. So many now make quick judgements about which side (privileged or vulnerable) a person is living on -- before even listening to their story and understanding their experience.
These stark lines of division vary from person to person, from community to community -- so much so that we can't seem to talk about it anymore, much less work toward broader protection of and compassion for anyone who is in need, regardless of their race, ethnicity, immigration status, sexuality, gender, etc. Protecting the vulnerable is not a monthly check donated to a food bank, a regular offering to the unhoused, a credible book on racism read and reflected, a training class taken -- even though these things are all important. Neither is protecting the vulnerable a task meant only for the privileged to undertake. Instead, it seems to me that knowing Who the vulnerable are, What do do about it, and understanding and seeking to overcome the Why it has become offensive to talk about such things -- has to be addressed at a more granular level: Everyday Living.
I can benefit from and most certainly should adopt an everyday habit of paying more attention to vulnerability. I need to understand that just because I am part of a vulnerable group, I also enjoy immense privilege. And I need to leverage both vulnerability and privilege to become a better citizen and a more caring friend.
All too often, I get stuck in one corner and neglect the other. Much as I would like to push all the responsibility of protection onto privileged white males, I shouldn't. Much as I would like to ignore the vulnerable because I enjoy privilege, I most certainly shouldn't.
So thank you -- friend and dinner guest. I bet you had little idea that one comment could trigger someone to jump into such a long rabbit hole of reflection.
But that is, after all, what introverts do.
It's not just me.... I think there may be other, far more credible and knowledgeable authors who speak to protection of the vulnerable. Such as:
We "... must be vigilant in protecting and supporting all communities, including the most vulnerable among us. We have a special obligation to protect children, whose victimization ripples through families, communities, and society at large. Likewise, elder abuse, fraud, and neglect remain urgent problems in this country, particularly as the COVID-19 pandemic ushered in a new wave of exploitative practices targeted at seniors... Gender-based violence, including domestic violence, dating violence, sexual assault, and stalking, cuts across socioeconomic, racial, and geographic lines. In addition, low-income communities, LGBTQI+ communities, communities of color, people with disabilities, non-citizens, and victims of human trafficking face disproportionately high rates of victimization."
"People should speak out for the poor and vulnerable, and ensure justice for those who are being crushed."
"I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me."
As I wrote this, I felt an all too familiar sense of embarrassment and hypocrisy because I am not living up to my obligation to protect as well as I should, could, or can. My audience here is one. I am preaching to myself.
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