Redefining Privilege: A Journey Through Europe, Gratitude, and Quiet Freedoms

Memorial Statue of Anne Frank - In the fresh air she was previously denied.

Before my recent trip through Europe, visiting Amsterdam, Germany, France, and Switzerland, I thought I understood what privilege meant. In the U.S., it’s a word we hear often, usually tied to race, gender, or socioeconomic status. And while those discussions are valid and important, what I learned abroad reminded me that privilege isn’t one-size-fits-all.

Sometimes, it’s not about what you have, it’s about what you don’t have to endure.

And sometimes, it’s about seeing the life you already have in a new light.

A Personal Pilgrimage: Amsterdam and the Anne Frank House

For years, I had wanted to visit the Anne Frank House in Amsterdam. As someone of German-Jewish descent, her story carries personal weight. My children and I read The Diary of a Young Girl together, and it sparked honest conversations about freedom, fear, and resilience.

Walking through the narrow staircases and tiny, dim rooms of the Secret Annex, where Anne and her family hid for over two years, I felt the heaviness of history settle around me. No fresh air. No sunlight. A child who dreamed of freedom but was denied even the most basic privilege: no freedom to walk outside, to laugh loudly, to simply be a child in the world.

It struck me: even the ability to breathe fresh air is a form of privilege.

As I walked through Amsterdam earlier that day, I saw children riding in bicycle baskets, people strolling along canals, friends chatting over coffee in open squares. The simple joy of being outdoors. For Anne, that joy had been taken away. For so many, it still is.

That moment changed how I viewed the rest of my journey, and my life. I emersed myself in the history and present of each city and to understand the impact one had on the other. I viewed my life with a new lens. I viewed privilege with a broader, deeper understanding.

Privilege in the Everyday

From Amsterdam to Strasbourg, the Black Forest to Lucerne, I started paying closer attention. Not just to what these cultures valued, but to what they didn’t seem to stress over.

In Switzerland, things just worked. Trains were on time. Clean water flowed from public fountains. There was order, beauty, and an emphasis on quality of life. In Germany, I felt a deep cultural commitment to confronting history, preserving truth, and moving forward with accountability.

In France, meals were unhurried, and streets were alive with conversation, and leisure was embraced, not viewed as laziness. There was also heavy military presence because of previous terrorist activity which created an interesting undertone to the atmosphere.

These weren’t just cultural quirks. They reflected a kind of built-in privilege. Not necessarily wealth or luxury, but an ease of living, a baseline of dignity, a prioritization of humanity.

Sitting in a café in Cologne, I wondered if other Americans were thinking deeply about the differences between the cultures and communities we were experiencing. I wondered if others were thinking about privilege or was it even crossing anyone’s mind? I thought how often, in the U.S., we run on stress and scarcity. The pressure to be productive. The constant striving. The feeling that what we have is never quite enough. In contrast, many Europeans I met seemed more grounded in what is, not just what’s next.

Privilege in the Workforce: Who Gets to Breathe?

Coming home, the contrast became even more vivid in the workplace.

In the U.S., hustle culture dominates. We glorify being busy. We measure our worth by our output and hours spent at work. Rest is often reserved for those who have earned it, and even then, it comes with guilt. But what does “earning rest” even mean or look like and how do you know when you have earned it?

Privilege shows up here too. In who gets to unplug without consequences: who can say “no” and still be seen as committed. Who has the flexibility to prioritize family, health, or peace of mind.

For some, privilege in the workforce looks like a corner office or a high salary. For others, it’s simply the ability to log off at 5 PM. Or to take a sick day without fear. Or to be treated with respect regardless of how they show up.

These nuances matter. They are often at the center of our personal core values. They shape how we move through the world and how seen or supported we feel within it.

The Subjectivity of Privilege

One of the most valuable realizations from my travels was this: privilege is deeply subjective.

In the U.S., conversations about privilege often center on race, gender, and economic background. These are essential conversations, but they aren’t the only ones.

In France, privilege might mean living in a society that values rest and quality of life. In Switzerland, it might be trust in infrastructure and institutions. In Germany, perhaps it’s the freedom to speak about the past and build toward a more inclusive future. In Amsterdam, it’s biking safely with your kids, in a city designed with them in mind.

Globally, Americans as a whole are often viewed as privileged simply because of our mobility, technology, or the power of our passport. That was humbling. Because even those of us who don’t always feel privileged at home might still hold enormous advantages abroad.

There is no single definition. And that’s the point. Privilege shifts depending on where you are, who you are, and what lens you’re looking through.

Redefining Privilege with Gratitude

If there’s one thing this journey reminded me, it’s that there’s no universal checklist for privilege. It means different things to different people - and that’s okay.

Privilege doesn’t cancel out your struggles. But it does ask us to be aware of the struggles we didn’t have to face.

And that awareness can be freeing, not shaming.

In the U.S., we often dwell on what we don’t have. What we’re chasing. What we still want. But sometimes, perspective reminds us to pause and ask: What do I already have that someone else may be praying for?

A safe place to live. The ability to go outside. Freedom of movement. Clean air. Peace. Choice. Even time to reflect.

Instead of asking, “Do I have privilege?” maybe the better question is:

“Where in my life is there peace, access, or freedom?”

Because that’s often where privilege lives.

As I reflect on this journey, I recognize that even having the chance to learn these lessons is its own form of privilege. But instead of guilt, I carry deep gratitude. Gratitude for the ability to travel, to witness, to listen, and to grow. And with that gratitude comes a responsibility: to see more clearly, to hold space for others, and to live with greater empathy and intention.