White privilege in nature: the AT hikers who broke the law

White privilege in nature: the AT hikers who broke the law

Two thru-hikers lied and broke the law to finish the Appalachian Trail this year. Should we dismiss it as a daring adventure or address deeper issues?

The first thing I have to admit before I start is that I am a rule-following person. I never cheat on games or quizzes, even though I'm stupidly competitive. I hate being late to meetings or gatherings, and I've even known to Google "how late to be to a dinner party" because I know it's rude to show up on time (the consensus is 15 minutes).

Perhaps this compulsion comes from an innate sense of appropriateness, but more likely it is a trait I inherited from my immigrant parents. They came to Britain in the 1960s, a time of heightened racial tensions. Throughout my childhood, I noticed a change in my father whenever he interacted with someone white, especially someone in authority.

I don't just mean a teacher or a police officer. It could be a shopkeeper or bus driver; anyone who had the power to throw him out of a room. My father would adopt a conciliatory tone – even submissive – and smile. The memory of this hurts because I now realize that my father feared the white man. That's why he was so hard on silencing us when we were unruly, or why one day he tore down the St. George cross we had pinned to our window. He feared it was a provocation, as if we as British Bangladeshis had no right to the English flag.

So, yeah, that might be why I stick to the rules. It might also suggest why people like Andrew Underwood feel remarkably comfortable breaking them. The AT thru-hiker is one of two people who have completed the trail illegally this year, Outside magazine reports. I hesitated to mention him here because internet shaming is not a pleasant thing. However, I think it's important to examine how and why he got away with it.

Underwood "lyed or charmed his way out of potential legal ties," explains his 2,500-word profile in Outside. It adds that he "defied mandatory self-quarantine in at least three states, slept in enclosed shelters, and trespassed on trails and through national and state parks."

The article describes specific transgressions: for example, misleading a cashier at a convenience store near Baxter State Park or lying to a police officer in Glasgow, Virginia. Sometimes he was caught in the act but managed to escape the consequences. A Baxter State Park employee reprimanded him on his way down Mt. Katahdin, but then let him go on with a smile.

alt="Mount Katahdin in Baxter State Park in Maine">James Griffiths Photo/ShutterstockUnderwood was caught descending Mount Katahdin in Baxter State Park

Not only did Underwood disregard the law and his social duty in the midst of a global pandemic; By entering closed paths, he also violated the unofficial rules of nature. The fact that he did this over a long period of time and with such determination speaks to a special kind of privilege. It is likely that he felt comfortable entering public lands not least because he was a white man.

His defenders appear to fall into three camps. First, he probably didn't spread Covid-19 because it's safer on the trail than at home. Second: We need more rebels like him/he's as punk rock as they come/he showed the spirit of freedom and adventure. Third, it is a free country and restricting its freedom of movement would be clearly un-American.

I wonder if they would be so charitable if the hiker lying to the cops happened to be black. If you're thinking that Underwood might have grappled with this question himself as he wandered the historically Confederate country amid global racial protests, you're sadly mistaken.

"I just didn't think about anything like that. I was so focused on mileage goals that I did it in four months or less. That's all I cared about all day," he tells Outside. “I never thought too much about anything else.”

This is a perfect example of white privilege: you don't have to fear that you will be harmed, hurt, or punished because of the color of your skin.

I suspect this all comes across as pretty dour. The thrillseeker in me - the one who jumps from planes and platforms and is seduced by foolhardiness - sees the appeal of what Underwood did. Just a man and his backpack, defying the odds. There is something romantic in that, and in truth it is unlikely that he did any real harm. His indifference to his own privilege is annoying.

What conclusions do police and park staff draw about him? What concessions did they make to him? In a country where a black man feels he has to put on a suit when he goes to get milk, what made him comfortable enough to do so? Has he thought about it?

If I had any hope that Underwood might reflect on his actions, they were dashed at the point in his profile when he says (completely unironically, it seems) that he plans to vote for Trump again because of the Republican Party's "support of police departments and law and order."

I needn't have worried about embarrassing Underwood. It seems like he's perfectly capable of doing this himself.

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Main image: Anthony Heflin/Shutterstock

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