“Colorblind ideology is…” I don’t even hear the rest of his phrase. What he says next does not matter, for his subject is not real. I sit next to all these pale faces, none looking like me, yet they feel comfortable talking about things so close to my life.
Color-blind ideology, this myth that one day color will not exist. He brings that bullsh*t up and he thinks it’s academically acceptable. Is he not aware of the world we live in? White faces can be caught on camera taking black lives and still not be indicted.
Where I’m from, a black man was running from whites cops and found himself inside House of Grace Learning Center. Entering the brown brick church, unarmed Mark Anthony Barmore, only 23, would take his last breath. As he did this, had his life snatched from him by men whose sole job was to protect it, twelve children were eye witnesses. Could you image your child coming home from daycare, you sitting out their favorite afternoon snack, asking them how their day was, then noticing blood on the tail of their shirt.
“Bobby, what is that?” you asked. And he nonchalantly replied, “It came from the dead man at church today.” In awe, you can’t respond. You cannot fathom the consequences of some careless officers’ actions, and how they will affect the rest of your child’s life. Will Bobby remember the blood stained shirt as he grows older? Will he be able to recollect the lifeless man’s face? Will it haunt him at night? Will this cause him to fear those of color? Will he feel safe around police? Or will he fear them as well? See, Bobby’s black. And he’s not small for his age neither.
Big and Black.
Bobby won’t be able to walk down a street without being stopped. He’ll never be able to own a nice car, cops might think he stole it, then Bobby’s dead. If he lives in a wealthy neighborhood, he best not take walks around the block, cops might think he’s breaking and entering, then Bobby’s dead. Oh and you better warn Bobby about shopping, no way can a black man that big carry anything around a store, cops might think he’s stealing, and you know what happens next. Dead.
Your poor Bobby ain’t got nowhere to go, nothing to do. He’s too big. Too black for White America.
That night you’ll go into your hiding place, you’ll cuddle up to your spouse, and you’ll weep. You’ll cry because you didn’t marry white. Because you two collectively f*cked up Bobby’s chances in the world. Your genes, their genes. Bobby ain’t got no chance. So tell me, how colorblind is that?
You can’t look into the eyes of Mark Anthony Barmore’s mother and tell her that colorblindness is real, or even possible. You can’t even think to convince the children that witnessed this occurrence that they don’t have to be aware of their race. Maybe my suggestions are an extreme. Maybe there were no Bobbies in the room. Maybe no one’s shirt was touched with blood. Maybe some big black men can live normal lives and be wealthy and happy and undisturbed. But there is no question, that in America, many black men cannot. Future black mommies and daddies have to live with the fact that their children will be prejudged due to the color of their skin, nothing more, nothing less.
Color is something so deeply rooted into our culture, that it is dreamlike picturing an America where it is gone. The goal here is not to erase color, but to embrace it. White skin is beautiful. The hair texture is soft and delicate. Latino skin is beautiful. Their heritage is unique and flavorful. Asian skin is beautiful. Their cuisine is scrumptious and appeasing. Native skin is beautiful. Their complexion is stunning and picturesque. And black skin is beautiful. Their lives matter.
Heritage and ancestry is nothing to be hidden or taken away. These entities are a part of us, they make us who we are. Accepting each other’s histories, does not make us weak, disregarding them does. Our different races took different journeys. It is not harmful for society to see this, but it is harmful to recognize difference and discount same. Ignoring the fact that we all began in an alike way. We are all born from a woman of a man. We all bleed red. And we all eventually die. That is the truth: we are all equal, even if our stories are different. So tell me, how colorblind is that?
