Recently, a retreatant and I were in conversation about our mutual experiences working with the homeless. We shook our heads in unison over the plight of the poor and marginalized, a kinship born out of mutual frustration and then... it happened. It was so subtle, I almost missed it, but woven into the conversation, he referred to me as a "person of privilege."
I suppose he labeled me a "person of privilege" because I'm white. My reaction was one of curiosity, not quite understanding how this virtual stranger could assume I led a privileged life based solely on the color of my skin. I didn't draw attention to his choice of words, but since his departure, I hear the echo of his voice and wonder.