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Sunday, July 7, 2019

The Destructive Myth of "I Don't See Color"

I wandered into the TV room where my little brother was splayed out on the rug watching Miami Vice. I had just turned fourteen and my room was newly decorated with pulpy pages from Tiger Beat, and me and my friends spoke of "cute" guys, which fascinated my little brother and led to lots of questions like this one: which guy was cuter, Crockett or Tubbs? My answer was Tubbs. "Which one is Tubbs?" Mike asked. "Phillip Michael Thomas," I replied, to which Mike said, "Which one is he?" I don't remember the rest of the exchange, but that's not important. What's important is that I knew Michael was trying to see if I would say "the black guy." I didn't, because I wouldn't, because I thought we couldn't say "black guy." Why not? Out of respect! We were taught that describing people that way was wrong and racist. Well that sounds good, until it doesn't anymore.

Only white people say "I don't see color." White allies seem to think it demonstrates that they're simply lovely towards all people regardless of race. They very well may be! Wouldn't it be a wonderful world if every self-described colorblind white person is pure in their intent! But let's not fool ourselves, that's far from reality. Starbucks CEO Howard what's-his-face said it recently, didn't he? As his stores are currently super-disappointing our black friends? Jesus, man, read the room: you need to SEE that you sound like a big fat racist fool right now. These are the folks who were shown the picture of all differently-toned eggs with the "we're all the same on the inside" platitudes and figure they more-or-less "get it" about race relations.
Spoiler Alert: they don't.

You Are "Not Seeing Color" Wrong

"We are all the same" is dismissive of a tremendous planet teeming with humans. And that tidy, pat brand of race talk has never worked, and now we have Donald Trump.

I pause here to say I hate these terms. I really do. I feel stupid even saying "I'm white" when speaking about race relations, but these are the terms we're given. As a hard-boiled Sicilian, I've got a little African blood in me, and a little Arab, and an unsettling amount of Norwegian, but if you want to talk in terms of "skin color" then I'm kind of a splotchy pale pink. Like a piglet. In L'OREAL TRUE MATCH terms, I am Nude Beige W3 which is, in plain words, severely lacking in melanin. A guy at work once referred to me as so pale I'm "almost clear." Thanks, Grant. I know, buddy, it's just how it is, man. #BornThisWay


"Black" is not an insult!

I mean, does this need to be said. I didn't realize until adulthood how lucky I was to be raised in the city, by really young parents. My mom was amazing and made sure she didn't raise fools. She loves R&B and Motown, went  dancing, danced with us, took us to see concerts (Stevie Wonder. the Commodores!), watched Soul Train Sunday mornings. We had fun. I wouldn't know until hindsight but my world was delightful for black culture regularly. Thank God my parents got that right. 

Okay, so we know our parents didn't want to raise race-ignorant people like THEIR parents had been (we are Sicilian and good lord, do I have stories) and so they worried that the world would take us wrong if we were to call a black guy "a black guy." That's where "I don't see color" was born.

White allies teach their kids respect. But however well-meant, it made us feel ashamed every single time we noticed blackness, as though "black" was some sort of taboo subject. This has ill effects and stifled any sort of natural exploring of racial differences in any meaningful way. Socially. In a school with a mix of kids from all different families, being ordered to "not see color" felt like we weren't supposed to acknowledge race at all, ever. Treat everyone equally, yes okay, but we can't talk with each other in relation to each other? Can't discuss our ideas, our hair, our shoes, our music, our mom's cooking, our family life...? No? But how come? That's why when I was fourteen I thought the "right" way to live graciously was to ignore blackness as an inherent quality, like in my example of Phillip Michael Thomas where I contorted my language every which way in an effort to avoid saying "the black guy." I didn't want to set a bad example for my little brother, who was looking to me to find out how to describe Tubbs as opposed to Crockett. But it bothered me, to the point where I'm still thinking about that day all these years later. Why must I rob Phillip Michael Thomas of his blackness? I should have been able to say "The black guy, Michael. That right there is a beautiful black man."

If forbidden to acknowledge race and all the things that make us all different, we can't properly share experiences, we can't express anything. They wanted us to avoid a racial divide, but making the subject taboo only served to deepen it. Once in grade school, Mrs. Jones said something during music class about how all the black kids in our class could sing, and she said that singing beautifully was commonly a talent that black people have...I remember to this day the rush of embarrassment...we're not supposed to notice blackness, Mrs. Jones! That's racist...isn't it...? That being said, all the black kids in our class COULD sing beautifully soooo...? you see, our elders had us all twisted up in our world view over race relations. Even if you were raised with the mindset that every person is worthy of respect, love, adoration, rights, here's the thing. Claiming to not "see color" feels like yet another way of erasing blackness.

Every time I start to wonder why as a country we're still trying to figure out how to talk about race relations, I stop wondering when I remember we never learned how in the first place. The best our elders could do back then was "don't see color" which was a way of saying "you are all the same." Well we're NOT the same, and there's been a lot of life since 1984, and now I'm here to say we should be seeing color. We should be seeing and loving blackness. We should be seeing, loving and respecting blackness. We should all of us be seeing, loving, respecting and celebrating blackness. I think it's important, primarily because too many white people who "see color" and react NEGATIVELY (like trigger-happy cops for example?) are out here being straight-up assholes, and I don't see how keeping silent is helping. Speak up. Black is beautiful, talented, smart. Black is amazing, y'all. DO see color. See that it's awesome.

My hope is that Generation X is the last generation to try the whole "I don't see color" thing thinking they're helping to advance and improve race relations. "I don't see color" may be well-intentioned, but it is harmful, disingenuous and insulting. 

Some tips, white people:

If you really want to help, quit saying you don't see color. Maybe just be a normal freakin' person about race relations—use your head, use your damn privilege for that matter. Educate yourself. Listen more. If you didn't grow up in a mixed-race life, maybe it's all new to you, and it's okay if you don't know how to fix your narrow world view. You could ask how to start, though, did you ever try? You may not have had to think about the vast complexities in race relations in your life at all. Guess what. There's not a black person alive who hasn't had to think about it every single damn day. Learn that, for starters.

  • You're gonna have to re-learn some American history. Read black writers and recommend books to your friends! Those in my age group (Gen X) were woefully kept from black writers in school. Crack those books they never told you about! 
  • Tune in to black podcasts and TV shows. I've been with Desus and Meru since YouTube and love their Showtime show. Speaking of YouTube stars, I can recommend Roland Martin if you want to learn with some straight talk. There's a lot of black media if you seek it out, and by the way, if you turn on the mainstream news for analysis and you see all white faces, find another source. Everyone in America should know the names Kimberly Atkins, Zerlina Maxwell, Karine Jean-Pierre, Yamiche Alcindor, Eddie Glaude, Malcolm Nance, Maya Wiley...of course the Rev. Reverend Al Sharpton saves my sanity everywhere he shows up on TV and other media (when does Rev sleep!?).
  • Speaking of media, you know you can watch anything you want on BET and other black media, right? I'm amazed at white people who unilaterally ignore certain movies and stuff because they don't feel like it's "for" them. Dude, you're missing out.
  • When a black person is speaking (or tweeting) their truths and something about "white people" comes up in the narrative, don't you dare start in with "Not all white people..." If ANYONE understands the feeling of being lumped in with a whole entire group wrongly in any way, it's a black person, so don't even try with "not all white people" right now. Just listen and learn something for once.
  • When talk turns towards black community issues, such as the question of reparations for the descendants of slaves, and you think you know what you're talking about, you don't. ("But I--") No. ("But my--") No. You can't possibly, it doesn't matter if you come from Irish, Italian or any other group that arrived in America and were also persecuted...it's not the same at all. Sit down.
  • Don't ever look for any pats on the back. It's not easy to explain how gross it is when white people claim some sort of glory because they have that "black friend" and rarely does this sort of self-congratulatory posturing ever add to the narrative. Don't do it. OMG DON'T USE BLACK PEOPLE AS PROPS.
  • Never excuse any hint of "us" versus "them" coming from your white friends or family. ANYONE. Ever. People are shocked to find there are certain family ties that I cut long ago because of toxic racism. Older folks who were raised with the adage "blood is thicker than water" have tried to shame me using the ideological cudgel that family is family, no matter what. That's bullshit. It's actually, “The blood of the covenant is thicker than the water of the womb.” The "covenant" here is: no racists. 
  • Stop reading THIS, I'm a old ass white lady. It doesn't matter what I think about it. Listen to black people with your ears open and your mouth shut. The end.∎

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