It’s impossible for me to see an image of a toddler’s body nestled next to her father’s on a riverbank and not imagine my 2-year-old girl—drowned and lifeless. But I am privileged enough to be able to turn my face away and toward everything my upper-middle-class life has afforded me. I did very little to work for all of that privilege. It was mainly a matter of being born in the right place, to the right people, at the right time. In her book, White Picket Fences, Amy Julia Becker says it so well. “Privilege means being given a special status—legal or social—by virtue of something you didn’t e ..read more