Identity Passing: Privilege or Prejudice

Identity Passing: Privilege or Prejudice 

A student's inner struggle of hiding self-pride

Delphie Levy-Jones

I was unaware that the seemingly paradoxical concepts ‘privilege’ and ‘prejudice’ could be interchangeable, until I discovered intersectionality. 

This framework takes the multiple aspects of someone’s identities, be it social or political, to represent their intertwined modes of discrimination and privilege. First recognised within women of colour feminist movements, intersectionality considers people’s relationships to power, and the categorisations which can marginalise us – our gender, race and class as examples.

The simultaneous nature of minority oppression and benefit felt somewhat controversial at first, and yet very confusingly personal. As a queer Jewish woman, the perplexing concept of identity, selfhood and community is constantly challenged. Undoubtedly, I experience both heterosexual and white privilege, and advantage incomparably from the ingrained bigotries within our social system. The internal battle arises however, when my sexuality and ethno-religion are met with traumatising bouts of homophobic and racist abuse. 

Thoughts spiralling, I knew I was immensely proud to be part of the LGBTQ+ and Jewish communities – two oppressed minority groups – and three if I count being a woman. Despite my personal relationship with my identity never being simple and without turmoil, any form of discrimination and microaggression I’d ever received only fuelled my passion to defend myself and my people. My mind was encompassed with the fiery resilience, rich culture and proud histories of both communities. 

And yet, without doubt, I knew at times I had buried that pride. 

There had been many instances where I’d hidden myself and cocooned in a comfort blanket of ignorance and conformity. Be it experiences with strangers, taxi drivers, doctors, and even friends, I realised I had the ability to become the majority. The accepted. The ‘normal’. I wasn’t sure whether it was an impulse, in situations where the line was thin between my safety and danger, and if revealing myself would trigger someone’s once disguised animosity. Or whether it was my own internalised shame and fear, from intergenerational trauma from being Jewish or the complicatedly toxic relationship I had with my own sexuality. Either way, I understood that in situations where I had to hide myself, yes, I’d felt momentarily protected, but the persisting effects made me feel invisible, empty and alone.  

I wanted to reach out. I wanted to find and give a voice to other identity-crisis-ridden students I hoped would relate. So, I created an anonymous survey on people’s personal experiences with ‘passing’. 

This idea that a minority is able to be identified as a member of the majority, usually relating to appearance and perception by society, originates from 19th century slavery and racial segregation, where lighter-skinned African Americans would pass for white as a survival tool. ‘Passing’ has since broadened to incorporate all ostracized targets of discrimination. 

Survey responses came in from minority-oppressed students I felt guiltily naive to not have initially considered. From neurodivergent, disabled, transgender and non-binary people, to members of BAME who didn’t have the ability to pass, the results I’d gathered were abundantly diverse and educational. Despite the initial melancholy which stirred me when realising many others felt a similar apprehension and solitude, I was met with a heart-warming reassurance that my sense of self-pride was shared. For those who had the ability to pass, a predictable pattern of conflict was evident between whether it was a privilege or oppressive, with the majority of students describing that their experiences of hiding had left them feeling isolated and ashamed. 

It was comforting to know we were united in our confusion. Selfishly, it was also soothing to know I was not alone in facing the daily injustices of others’ terrifyingly tragic and unchanging intolerances. But it still felt complicated. 

Other minorities do not have the ability to hide. Because of their physical appearances, they don’t have the opportunity to escape danger as easy as I could. No passing minority or privileged majority has the capacity to ever comprehend the draining reality of how this might feel. I can only imagine how the persistent intimidation from a hostile world ignites relentless terror and dread. From the survey, I explored perspectives who wished for the camouflaging capability of avoiding discrimination, but an encouraging majority stated they were proud. Proud that their identities were visible and overtly reflected a sense of solidarity, unity and kinship for their minority community. 

The duality embedded within my identity, compelling me to experience either end of the privilege-oppression spectrum, has resulted in some realisations. Firstly, that it is critical any self-privilege is recognised. I, and others who can pass, benefit from pre-existing societal inequalities, whilst others are met with limited opportunities and unconquerable challenges. As indisputable as this fact, simultaneously the act of passing seems to be an offbeat manifestation of oppression. Debating our visibility surely equates to debating our existence. 

And it is the system that needs to change, not us. 

 

“Denying who you are to escape racism is not a privilege” – Ben M Freeman

“If we aren’t intersectional, some of us, the most vulnerable, are going to fall through the cracks” – Kimberlé W Crenshaw

“Never let it affect our idea of who we are. Pride is always a healthier response than shame” – Rabbi Lord Jonathan Sacks

 

View the survey athttps://www.surveymonkey.co.uk/r/ZKVV5P5, and the results at https://www.surveymonkey.com/stories/SM-B8SXX5WC/