About one out of four times when I go into the Utica A stop by my apartment, there are police officers guarding young black people they have captured. Once toward the middle of Occupy Wall Street my roommate and I were going to take the subway and this was the case, a young man of color started yelling at the cops through me and my roommate about racist police and gentrification. We got on the same car and he was still yelling at us, and we were kind of hurt because we recognized the guy from neighborhood anti-gentrification actions and he didn’t recognize us. When we said something to the effect (“Hey, why are you yelling at us? We’re on your team. I recognize you from the anti-eviction at Ms. Ward’s house two weeks ago…”), I was surprised when he wasn’t sorry. “So? What is that, the worst thing that’s going to happen to you today?” And he was right, it probably was. I felt entitled to be judged for a certain set of my actions, and entitled to the distribution of feeling that came with it. But why should I expect a hood pass for white allies when Oprah gets locked out of a Hermes store? I already know that how people are made to feel in public isn’t based on the merit of their actions, expecting something different for myself is basically hoping white privilege will still function for me in Bed-Stuy. That it often does isn’t a good reason for me to get indignant when it doesn’t.