I’m traveling in Patagonia right now. The other day my mom sent me a text that read “You’ve seen more of the world than many people do in a lifetime!” And this is true. We’re traveling for a year because we saved money for the previous four, our sights set on the mountains here and the oceans there.

This is what privilege looks like.

A lot of people hear that I’m a doctor and think I earned it. “You must have studied so hard,” they say. Or they think I have some ability others simply don’t have. “You must be really smart to be doing that,” they wonder out loud. The premise is that most of my success comes from things I’ve done or the way I am.

This too is what privilege looks like.

The reality is quite different. Sure I studied hard in school, but I’ve been supported in my studies since kindergarten. Sure I have a lot of student debt, but I never had to hold down a job in medical school to pay the bills. Sure I’ve endured stressful situations in my training, but I never faced childhood trauma.

This is also what privilege looks like.

Patagonia truly is beautiful. Stunning really. And I think everyone ought to have a chance to see it.

But most are struggling to come up with rent to stave off eviction. Or fighting to pay medical bills they’ve collected for diseases they didn’t ask for or earn. Others are working for less than a living wage, hoping for a vacation someday and never dreaming of a trip around the world. Still others have been left behind by a social system that ignores their traumas and their struggle. A white majority that isn’t interested in their perspective, opinions, or ideas. A society that blames them for nearly all that is failing in their lives while recognizing next to none of what they have to offer

To these people, privilege is always seen but never felt.

So if my privilege means supporting higher taxes so social welfare can be expanded, I’ll support them. If it means educating myself on the reality of poverty for Americans, I will read and learn. If it means getting involved in communities of color to tutor young children who’s parents were never tutored themselves, count me in. If it means fighting for empathy in the clinic when a patient doesn’t take their medications yet again, I will try.