Privilege

Privilege is multi-faceted, encompassing all the aspects of diversity. Learning about and acknowledging the many forms of privilege I had, and my connected fragility, was a critical step in my personal journey. Figuring out what to do and then changing my behaviors was a lot harder than saying it; it felt like a lot of work. Taking action was easier once I realized that my discomfort lasted a comparatively short amount of time, while friends and colleagues who were different from the dominant culture, in many cases had to be uncomfortable all day, every day of their lives.

One of my friends, an African American woman, and I both have sons named Jason, both of whom had jobs in technology and both of whom liked to run after work. We talked about them from time to time, and I saw that her Jason had many more barriers in life than my Jason did. Her Jason had a hard time getting a nice apartment even though he had a good job and all his finances were in order. Her Jason got pulled over by police and frisked in a dark parking lot at night even when he was doing the speed limit; and white neighbors’ dogs were set outside when he went running after work. He could—and did—do the same thing at work as my son did, but her son’s skills, ideas and decisions were questioned all the time in his otherwise-all-white-mostly-male-company, when my son’s were not.

I will always feel discomfort—it’s who I am—but I realized that my privilege allowed me to feel discomfort intermittently, rather than the discomfort that people who are different from the dominant culture are subjected to all day, every day of their lives. I needed to just deal with my discomfort and fragility and figure out how to use the privilege I have, and the access that affords me, to help make land conservation work for those who lack privilege or access because of their socio-economic status, the color of their skin, their ability, their faith, sexual orientation or other differences. I noticed that when my land trust hosted canoe outings, for example, many selected partners who had similar levels of experience, which often left those who’d never been in a canoe together in the same boat. So, I talked with my colleagues and pushed for those with more experience to select partners with less experience so all could have a good river trip.

Professionally, my friend’s willingness to share her experiences helped me learn more about the privilege that I had as a white woman working in a national land trust. A county manager would talk with me because I looked like him and he wanted me to help him write grants, but he would always talk down to, or talk over a person of color. When I went to a bank with African American community group leaders to explore the potential for the group to borrow money to buy land, the banker directed the entire conversation at me, rather than to the group’s leaders.

I saw how socio-economic status excludes most low-income landowners and landowners of color from utilizing conservation easements, in part because of the criteria that prioritize large-acreage properties in public funds grant programs and partly because of the low market values of the lands that low-income families and families of color were consigned to—often wetlands or floodplain properties. It was hard for the modern conservation movement to be relevant to these landowners because the tools are inaccessible. So it became incumbent on me to find ways that conservation can be helpful and meaningful to a broader, more diverse audience.

My colleagues and I connected with the Minority Outreach Coordinator for our State Forest Service and helped set up meetings and workshops in communities to begin the “access to education and information” process. During those workshops we learned about heirs’ property, a major issue among African American and Native American landowners and a primary barrier to being able to manage your forestland. So, we brought in nonprofit groups and attorneys who could help landowners address the fractionated ownership issues on their land.

When it came to the question of conserving land, one issue that became obvious is that conservation easements often don’t work well for landowners of color. My colleagues and I connected with USDA Natural Resources Conservation Service (NRCS) professionals who “looked like” the landowners we were working with, and they provided technical assistance, helping the landowners learn about the various programs and funding sources that were available and providing the access that had functionally been denied previously. There were many positive results of our efforts: Landowners of color were able to secure technical assistance and access programs and public dollars that had previously been functionally inaccessible. My privilege and the access I had working in the land trust movement could be used to help landowners of color begin to access public dollars that they had been excluded from accessing through programs that I took for granted. Using your privilege for good is a never-ending effort but one that is worth pursuing.