It would be so easy. All I would have to do is just keep showing up as I always have. And start taking instead of giving. And start caring about myself instead of others. And close my ears to the cries all around me. And close my eyes to all the suffering.
I am a straight white male in my fifties. I could toss a bunch of money at the stock market and enjoy the ride. I could buy a bunch of guns and ammunition to protect my home and wait for the insurrection. I could vote for the candidates who are going to make a more comfortable ride for me and mine without a care for those floundering all around me. I could choose to believe what and whomever makes it easier for me to sleep at night. I could start enjoying this white male privilege and start making it work for me.
Except I have eyes.
And a heart.
Some might say it bleeds, and they would be right. It bleeds for those who have never enjoyed playing this game because the deck is stacked against them.
My eyes cry for those who have been left behind on this fast track to get the most the quickest way possible. I weep for those who never had a chance.
My ears ring from all the despotic rhetoric that exists solely to keep those who are not white males right where they have been for all this time: at the bottom. They burn because I know that when people talk about white privilege they are pointing at me.
I know that a great portion of the reason why I am where I am today is based on rules set forth by a bunch of guys like me who wanted it to be easy for guys like me to continue to be guys like me. When I say #MeToo, it's pretty hypocritical.
I know I am outnumbered. Common sense suggests surrender, though somehow this gang of white males cling to their places of power and spew hate and fear. Probably because they are terrified. I would be too.
If I were them.