Privilege of Denying Privilege

So clearly I'm not that great at this whole blog thing. For now. But this is a topic that pricks itself into my gut and tosses me around at night. (and I still can't spell privilege right.)

The latest spear of guilt was watching this poem:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PTFNA6jtwHA&feature=player_embedded

Somalia.
"somalia - synonymous with suffering
african meant adversity
an african struggling was like
a fish swimming
a dog barking
somalia meant starvation"

Somalia. As I heaped piles of freekeh into the ornate stainless steel bowl as large as a small child that my baba had shipped from Jordan in order to accommodate his need to have 30 guests over to impress.
Mentioning Somalia felt obscene.
Even as I ranted to my mother about..corrupt governments...unfair American subsidies... capitalist exploitation...colonial havoc... "Somalia meant Starvation".

And I here I was.
Oh I've donated.
Learned.
Taught.
Ranted.
And then what? I still remain among the most privileged people in the world. And I still can't disassociate Somalia from Starvation. I still don't know what it means to go hungry without a finite end to my hunger. To worry about my next meal. To not even remember my last meal. 

Somalia and Suzan may as well be on separate planets. So I may pout and shout about the state of the world and cry about going on hunger strikes when my family debates getting a fourth fridge, and buy organic and local and cook/eat smaller portions and feel oh so fucking good about myself.

Recently I had a conversation on twitter about racial identity. I mentioned how I'd rather pass as straight than pass as white. I hate passing as white, it's one of the biggest reasons I wear the hijab (albeit I'm a "slipping sister") But I live in California. I've never gotten accosted in any threatening manner. I have full political freedom to pray in the middle of the Macy's while I do my Eid shopping if I so please. And I live a very privileged, upper middle class, white existence. Thus, I have the privilege to deny any white privilege ascribed onto me. And I retain the privilege of disclosing my queerness when I feel it's safe and appropriate.

Basically, this is a long winded way of saying I feel frustrated, humbled, undeserving of the riches I've been granted, never thankful enough, never aware enough, never awake enough. My mama claims I'm "carrying the ladder too wide" but I am not Atlas, holding the world up single-handedly. Instead I feel blessed, privileged, just to be able to touch the world to begin with. I don't know what it means to give back to humanity as much as it deserves, if it means living on a couple hundred dollars a month in some shack and preaching to the yuppies, or burning everything and being one of those people "visiting Africa" or moving to the MidEast and showing off all the fancy American things I've learned so that these people build their little democracies right, or what. This is the problem. As scared as I am if it'll ever be enough, I'm even more scared if it'll ever be right

Ya Allah,
اهدِنَــــا الصِّرَاطَ المُستَقِيمَ
Guide us on the straight path

صِرَاطَ الَّذِينَ أَنعَمتَ عَلَيهِمْ

The same path as those that you've blessed.

Ameen.