Almost five years ago, my husband Matt and I decided to dip our toes in the murky waters of ‘outsourcing’. We began by hiring people for our own web development company, Intellis. Then over a year ago, we launched AwayTeam to help Australian companies find online workers based in the Philippines.
Matt began to live between the two countries for a while, and then in June of last year, the kids and I joined him for a 6-month stay. And it is in these 6 months that my eyes were opened more to white privilege and how it is still an issue even in our modern times.
I am a white, middle class female who grew up in a mostly anglo community in Australia. I was not aware of my white privilege until I was in my early 20s, when it suddenly hit me like a brick. I became aware of the awful colonial history behind the treatment of the indigenous people here in Australia.
There is also a privilege assigned to me at birth, which allowed me to do the things I wanted: go to a university, get a good job, find a house, easily lead a life with very few obstacles and prejudices.
I realized I was special, important, and even powerful because of the color of my skin. And I didn’t like that one bit.
I vowed to not let it affect my behavior and that I would be consciously aware of this unspoken advantage that I possess. I also made it my life’s work to create spaces where everyone is equal and all voices are heard. And I worked in community service for 15 years doing just that.
Suffice to say, I have never known what it was like being the “other”, being prejudiced and subservient, being someone who is by default, at a disadvantage.
Fast forward to June 2016 and I find myself in a country where my skin color immediately makes me stand out, and almost automatically the “perks” of being white are handed to me on a silver platter.
We became a spectacle wherever we went, a white family in a sea of brown-skinned people. We were treated special and put on a pedestal. When we got invited to events, on more than one occasion we were treated like royalty. People insisted on calling us ‘ma’am’ and ‘sir’ as a sign of respect and a way to acknowledge that we were above them - even if we truly were not.
Instead of this special treatment making me feel happy, I felt disgusted and ashamed. I wasn’t happy at all, and almost being waited on hand and foot was a huge issue for me.
Determined not to be overwhelmed by what I was feeling, I actively sought authentic relationships. We immersed ourselves in Filipino culture, shying away from the expat community and choosing instead to live with and befriend the beautiful people of this country.
As my social network began to grew, so did my feeling of belonging. And to some extent, I started to feel like I was just at home, growing my own roots in this foreign land. We began destroying the pedestals they have prepared for us and our feet were planted firmly on the ground, just like the rest of the Filipinos.
And the belief that I have held for many years was becoming a reality before my very eyes. We human beings are essentially the same, no matter where you come from. We all just come in different packaging.
And it is through recognizing my white privilege that I was able to realize that.
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