privilege

Through frosted windows, a desolate landscape rolls past. The nuances of shadow and light painting the whites and blues of the winter scene with a sad beauty only found in the clarity of Nordic frost. The cold permeates through every layer, as if to seep right into the marrow of one's bones. Chilled, I huddle into the warm embrace of my coat, letting my gaze unfocus. A sense of melancholy hangs heavy within the icy echoes of the morning, a bitter companion to my thoughts, none sadder than those on privilege.

A subtle sigh escapes me as I cradle a lukewarm cup of train coffee between stiff hands, the bitterness akin to the unpalatable truth that privilege is an unseen potent entity, quietly shaping narratives and destinies. On numerous occasions, I've questioned where I would be without it; the cold biting at my fingertips a mocking reminder of my societal insulation against life's unforgiving chill. Every swift swipe of my student card, every sip of this overpriced coffee, they all reek of unspoken privileges.

Just yesterday, I came across an article. An incomplete submission seeking information. A simple line jumping off the screen: “Sorry, but I can't provide the information you're asking for because your text seems to be incomplete or incorrectly formatted." The author, it seemed, was at a disadvantage for not knowing how to present their query. A stark reminder indeed, that privilege often starts where knowledge begins.

The very fact that I am here aboard this train, pursuing journalism at a prestigious university, is a testament to a democratic education system that encourages and fosters growth. I am privileged to have been born into a society that values education, that can afford the luxury of intellectual curiosity.

Acknowledging this does not repress the guilt that constricts my throat, the gnawing feeling that this opportunity, this privilege, was never rightfully mine to begin with. For aren't there thousands out there, their voices silent in the yawning gap of societal indifference, left out in the proverbial cold?

As the train chugs along, cutting through the frosty morass, I reflect on finite spaces and infinite realities. Do we, the privileged few, occupy too much space in the narrative? Is our relative comfort silencing voices that need to be heard?

My journey today, both literal and metaphorical, is a stark reminder to continually question, understand and acknowledge my privilege; to appreciate its shaping influence but also recognize the biases it breeds. A reminder that this train ride, this dwindling cup of coffee, this ability to communicate my thoughts, isn't everyone's reality but a privilege I must never take for granted.

Perhaps that's where we begin to even the imbalance, to un-knit the inequality ingrained in our society. Acknowledging that privilege is not a conscious choice, but a product of an unequal framework. Accepting that the world can and should be a warmer, more equal place. And finally, taking the responsibility to heat it up with action, courageously facing change in this bitter morning chill.

Tags: privilege equality social justice