I remember the first time I felt truly wronged. I was four years old, standing in the middle of our kitchen, watching my twin sisters’ birthday cake light up with candles. The room was filled with that warm, golden glow, everyone smiling, singing, celebrating them. And I hated it.
Where was my cake? Where were my presents? I was not thinking about the fact that I had my own birthday, my own turn. All I knew was that, for the first time, I was not the one in the spotlight. And it felt unfair.
But it was not unfair. It was just fair.
That is how privilege works. When you have always had the first slice of cake, when the world has always tilted slightly in your favour, balance can feel like a loss. Not because something is being taken from you, but because you are not used to sharing.
The real question is, what happens when the people who have always had the first slice start to believe they are being robbed?
It is a simple truth. When you are used to being centred, equality can feel like oppression. And nowhere is this more obvious than in conversations about gender equity.
Take International Women’s Day, for example. Every year, like clockwork, there is a wave of people asking, “But when is International Men’s Day?” as if acknowledging the barriers women face somehow diminishes the achievements of men. It is the grown-up version of my four-year-old self staring at my sisters’ birthday cake, convinced I was missing out on something that was never mine to begin with.
Because here is the thing, International Women’s Day is not about taking anything away. It is about recognising that, for generations, the world has not been a level playing field. Women, and particularly those from marginalised communities, have had to fight for opportunities that others were simply given. It is about making sure the spotlight finally shines in places it has long been absent.
And yet, to those who have never had to think about fairness, even that small shift can feel like a threat. The real challenge is not just making space, but changing the mindset that sees equality as a loss rather than a gain for everyone.
It is easy to understand this on paper, but much harder to recognise when it is happening in real time, especially when you are the one who has always had the advantage. Because privilege does not announce itself. It does not come with a label or a warning. It just feels normal.
That is why, when things start shifting, when hiring practices change, when leadership roles open up to those who were previously shut out, when policies are put in place to create balance, it can feel like something is being taken away. The reaction is often resentment, frustration, or outright resistance.
You see it in workplaces when men claim that gender diversity quotas mean less-qualified women are taking their jobs. You hear it in complaints about scholarships for underrepresented students, as if those opportunities were not created to counter generations of exclusion. You see it in the way some people bristle at the phrase equal pay, not because they are against fairness, but because they have never had to think about what unfairness looks like.
Because here is the truth, when a system has always favoured you, equity will feel like discrimination.
The question is, what do we do with that discomfort?
The answer is not to dismiss or shame people for feeling uncomfortable, but to help them understand it. To ask them to sit with that feeling and interrogate where it comes from. Because discomfort is not oppression. Losing a privilege you were never meant to have over others is not the same as being disadvantaged.
True equality does not mean less for anyone, it means more for everyone. It means workplaces that are stronger because they are built on diverse perspectives, industries that innovate because they welcome new ideas, communities that thrive because every voice is heard. It means shifting from a world where a select few automatically get the first slice of cake, to one where we all have a seat at the table.
And that is the real challenge. Not just creating change, but changing how we see change. Because when you have spent a lifetime at the front of the line, fairness will always feel like falling behind. But the truth is, you were just standing on a platform that was never meant to be there in the first place.
So the next time you feel that sting of unfairness, ask yourself, am I actually losing something, or am I just experiencing what fairness feels like for the first time?
Ash MacMahon
Co-Founder & Field Director - Amarapave