Privilege is simple.
Going for a pleasant stroll after dark. Not checking the back of your car as you get in, sleeping soundly, Speaking without interruption and not remembering dreams of rape, that follow you all day, that woke you crying, and Privilege is not seeing your stripped, humiliated body plastered in celebration across every magazine rack. Privilege is being smiled at all day by nice helpful women it is the way you pass judgment on their appearance with magisterial authority, the way you face a judge of your own sex in court and are over-represented in Congress and are not strip searched for a traffic ticket or used as a dart board by your friendly mechanic, Privilege is seeing your bearded face reflected through the history texts not only of your high school days but all your life, not being relegated to a paragraph every other chapter, the way you occupy entire volumes of poetry and more than your share of the couch unchallenged.