What do I do when my privilege protects me from seeing other people's reality?

This is the hardest part, and Sor Juana lived it. She had access to education, to convents, to intellectual life—doors closed to most women and all Indigenous people. But she also had to work to see beyond her own world. The privilege didn't automatically disappear just because she was aware of it. Start with discomfort as information. If something someone says doesn't match your experience, that gap is worth examining. It usually means you're seeing from a protected vantage point. Don't explain it away—sit with it. Ask follow-up questions. Read the voices of people whose reality is different from yours, not to feel better about yourself, but to actually understand. The dangerous thing about privilege is it can feel like truth. Your normal seems universal. Your access seems earned. Your safety seems obvious. So you have to actively, regularly reality-check yourself. Seek out perspectives that contradict your assumptions. Make friendships across difference, not as charity, but because you want to actually know people. Sor Juana used her position to argue against the very structures that gave her advantages. That required constant vigilance—staying curious instead of comfortable. That's the practice: noticing when you've drifted back into assuming your world is everyone's world, and gently correcting course.