Who Knew I'm So Privileged?

I might as well just shoot myself right now since I am such a terrible person. Or I could do the trendy thing and hang myself from a doorknob. Either way, I'd be gone and Lord knows society would be a heck of a lot better off. Why? Turns out that not only am I an example of white privilege, virtually sailing through life without any roadblocks, like at say a bagel shop or a shoe store where I can get the attention of the sales clerk right away, but today I learned that I am also a "cis privileged" woman because I still identify with the gender assigned to me at birth and thus have no trouble going into any public restroom marked "WOMEN" or trying on a bathing suit in a department store or any one of the hundreds of perks I get because I have chosen to accept my original genitalia.

Who knew I was so privileged? It certainly didn't feel that way last week when I was flying home from Florida, crammed into a tiny middle seat with a lady sitting behind me coughing incessantly, her phlegm droplets spraying onto my head, not to mention the horrible turbulence that lasted for the entire flight which ignited the mournful wailing of at least three babies on board. My being a female, and a white one to boot, helped me not one iota in either of those situations.

Or did it? Would a black transgender person have had a worse time? Would they be offered fewer bags of pretzels by the flight attendant? Is counting my blessings different from counting my privileges? It's all so confusing. Good thing colleges now offer courses in all this stuff.