I am practically drowning in privilege. I have so many things I don't have to think about in my daily life, it should be illegal:

I don't have to worry about being persecuted for my religious beliefs. I don't have to worry about being judged for my sexual orientation. I don't have to worry about police targeting me due to my race, or being judged for which bathroom I use, or finding a ramp because I physically cannot climb stairs. I will never understand the struggles of someone of a different religion, or sexual orientation, or race, or gender identity, or physically ability. Yet, I do know what it means to struggle — as a woman.

When I walk down the street, and someone catcalls me I feel afraid. A sudden car honk makes me jump, and when I'm followed down the street being hit on I look for escape routes in case the person following me is dangerous.

"Why don't you smile for me?"

I guess I don't find it funny how Brock Turner only went to jail for three months for sexually assaulting a woman behind a dumpster. Maybe I'm a little frustrated that women are paid on average, 80% of what men are paid for the same job. Perhaps I'm a little disenchanted that there are so few women in our political system.

Mostly, I'm uncomfortable having my appearance commented on and then being expected to express gratitude and "smile,". or else I'm "stuck up". When women are treated with respect, and have their voices heard and hold powerful roles in society-- that makes me smile.

When women are not respected, and violence towards women is seen as acceptable, that is cause for concern. Women's issues should concern everyone, because it's not just our issue, it's a human issue.

Along the same line, even though we are of different identities, the oppression of LGBTQ, black, latina, asian, and metally/physically disabled peoples should concern me and other white people too. We must seek justice for all people, not just for the people in power.

Unfortunately, I do not understand the experiences of anyone other than myself. And we as humans have the tendency to fear what we don't understand. When we do not understand something, then we are ignorant. "Ignorance," may not mean "stupidity," but ignorance is still dangerous.

Fear stemming from ignorance can lead to severe negative consequences for whom the fear is targeted: Black humans are frequently targeted and killed by police, Donald Trump called for a "complete shutdown of Muslims" entering the US, mentally/physically disabled peoples make up 25% of homeless cases in America, people in the LGBTQ often fear "coming out" to their loved ones for fear of being rejected, women make up 90% of sexual assault cases.

So if ignorance leads to negative consequences, then certainly knowledge leads to positive consequences.We obtain knowledge by reading up on historical events that affected different cultures, listening to the experiences of those who are oppressed, and joining activist groups in our communities. Obtaining knowledge is a never-ending journey, and one that does not ever lead to complete understanding of others' struggles. Still, it is a journey worth taking.

I have a strange mixture of privilege and oppression-- I know what it's like to be oppressed by a male dominated society, yet I do not know what it's like to be oppressed as a person who is not white. As a woman, I must fight to have my voice heard; but as a white person I must step back and listen to the voices of those who are oppressed by a society that favors white people. It's a little strange sometimes to experience both sides. But here's what I've learned:

As an oppressed woman, I just want men to be sensitive to the struggles I face and stand up when they see a woman being harassed. Maybe that looks like backing up their female coworker in a meeting, or discouraging a friend who makes a joke about sexual assault. I don't want pity, or to be victimized, or to have to justify my desire to have my female-ness respected. I don't want men to be oppressed or have their rights stripped away either-- I simply want us to have the same rights.

As an oppressive majority then, I have to uphold the same responsibilities that I ask from men in society. I have to stand up for people when I see injustice. I have to affirm the voices of oppressed minorities while not over asserting my own opinion. I need to listen to their struggles, and not be afraid to acknowledge my own privilege. But most of all, I must treat people of a different identity than I have with respect, and understanding.

Ultimately, we are all human. We all want to be accepted. We want to binge-watch Netflix, or hang with our friends, or go out for pizza. Our skin color, or our gender identity, or our religion, or our sexual orientation, or our physical ability doesn't change that. Our struggles may define us, but they do not define all of us.

What defines us most is how we treat others. Will your definition be a good one?