#you know? somewhat clueless white girl raised in ignorant privilege and not be willing to do the work to address it. vs someone who is clea

[pegasusknightsonly]

paired ending with ingrid 🤮 and yet no supports with the other guy who cares about heroes relics and crests and thinks stealing is probably fine if its from the church........... my gorgeous mind so open to potential and my agony unlimited

[queercapwriting]

So here's a prompt if it tickles your fancy: Sanvers having a conflict about race. Or privilege, rather? Being in a relationship with a white person can be pretty hard? Because of privileges and (usually, hopefully unintentional and not ill-willed) cluelessness about what it's like to move through the world when you're not white. I've never seen it dealt with in fic and it'd be cool to read.

Alex always readily agreed – nods her head, says things like yeah and J’onn’s right and James has a point – whenever someone explicitly comments on racism. She’s always supportive, always a little too ready to nod her head in agreement, but she’s also always a bit… clueless.

And it feels a bit more like Alex is agreeing because she’s always so ready to defend her friends, rather than because she necessarily… gets it.

Because she got the part where Maggie said she grew up non-straight in Blue Springs, Nebraska. She got it and she’ll recognize homophobia and she’ll stiffen and she’ll be ready to punch someone into last Tuesday.

But she didn’t quite get the part where Maggie said she grew up non-white in Blue Springs, Nebraska.

Because Maggie will get up extra early some days for court to defend brown kids whose cases have crossed her desk, and Alex doesn’t understand.

“But I thought you said he did have a gun in his glove compartment.”

“He did, Al, but it was his father’s car and it was licensed to his father and that’s not even the point, the point is that they never should have been in his glove compartment to begin with, they never should have forced him out of his car to begin with, hell, they never should have pulled him over to begin with.”

And Alex will sigh and nod and go quiet and make Maggie coffee and Maggie will seethe because she hates having to explain things like this in her own home, but at least Alex is asking (instead of accusing her of caring about work more than their relationship), which is more than she can say for the other white girls she’s dated.

Because some nights, Alex will come over and Maggie is positively tearing into the punching bag in her living room, Nas blasting throughout the house, and Alex doesn’t say anything, but she looks confused when Maggie huffs out between jabs and crosses and uppercuts how much zero tolerance policies in schools just seek out and punish Black girls, and Maggie doesn’t want her to look confused, like she’s hearing this for the first time, Maggie wants her to get it, intuitively, and she doesn’t, so Maggie punches harder.

Because some afternoons, Alex will come to the precinct and ask why Maggie’s captain talks to her so differently than he talks to the other women in the precinct, do they have a difficulty history together, and Maggie swallows the answer about his white ass and just kind of shrugs until Alex lets it go, but it eats into Maggie’s stomach all afternoon and only Alex’s smile, ironically, fixes it. Somewhat.

And one evening, when they’re out in a club and James and Maggie sort of huddle in a corner together and Alex can’t figure out why, Maggie’s grateful when James is the one to say all these white folks, Alex, it could be a Klan meeting up in here and Maggie looks down at her feet because she doesn’t want to see Alex’s face fall, doesn’t want to see Alex’s eyes flood with tears, because she’d picked the venue, and it was a gay spot and wasn’t that good enough and she’d failed and Maggie feels badly because Maggie loves her and doesn’t want her to feel guilty, doesn’t want her to spiral, but damn does she not want to be the one to have to pick up those pieces right now.

It’s that night that Maggie first really says anything about it, that night when Maggie decides that she’s not going to treat Alex like the other white girls she’s dated: allowing them to ignore their privilege, to ignore the ways they steamroll over Maggie, ignore the ways their lack of getting it makes her constantly feel crazy in her own home.

She’s not going to let Alex not learn, because she loves her, she loves her, she loves her, and she’s starting to trust, somehow, that Alex loves her enough back to put in the work on herself that Maggie needs her to put in.

“Babe,” Maggie begins, gently, softly, her hands on Alex’s hips after Alex slinks off her jacket and opens the fridge for some water.

“Are you mad at me?” Alex asks immediately, because they hadn’t spoken about it at the club, they’d just danced, danced, Maggie being extra watchful and Alex not noticing the filthy looks and raised eyebrows they got from white girls who think they own oppression because they’re lesbians.

Maggie sighs and rests her forehead on Alex’s shoulder. “No. No, Ally, I’m not mad, but I… I need that to not be the point.”

Alex turns and furrows her brow and waits, and Maggie’s heart flutters because Alex is not going to yell, and Alex is not going to blame her, and Alex is not going to reject her, and Alex is not going to tell her that she’s making things up and not everything is about race, not, not, not, right?

“There are ways I move in the world that… that you don’t. You could stroll into that club, or hell, anywhere, with Kara, and two beautiful white women? God, Alex, you have all the privilege in the world. All of it. And I… I have a lot of it, too. I can pass sometimes, and I hate it, I hate that, but I… listen, Al, I… I’m not going to teach you about your white flipping privilege. I don’t want to have to, babe. I want to come home and know that the woman I love is going to understand without me having to explain to her, I want the woman I love to get it. That doesn’t mean you can’t mess up and it doesn’t mean you can’t ask me things, but just… you gotta stop treating racism like it only exists in big bad individual people and hella obvious, okay?”

Alex fidgets and sighs, and Maggie’s heart hammers.

“So you’re saying you love me.”

Maggie can’t help the radiant smile that pushes it’s way onto her face, because Alex is ridiculous, and Alex is right.

“And you’re saying you want me to start being less of a ‘post-racial’ jackass.”

Maggie arches an eyebrow and tilts her head. “I’m impressed you know that word, Danvers.”

“I’ve been trying, Sawyer. Because I love you too. And I’m gonna figure out how to love you better. I promise.”