I am a person of color. Not for me, this black and white.
Amidst so many colors, these past few weeks have felt summery sweet. Yet the headlines ticking along the top of my consciousness seem shrouded in fog, buried in dark. All black or white. Just or unjust. But then – a familiar flash of steel-gray appears, wherein one freezes, runs, closes their eyes, weeps, eventually turns the other cheek. Because what can you do? I know. You know. We all know which color reigns supreme. Steel metal wins, every time, all around. It is the one color so many rely on, in the end.
We are a country held prisoner by our love-hate relationship with cold, shiny metal. We are a nation yielding to antiquated black and white thinking on issues every shade of gray. We shuffle along, our leaden metallic weapons hidden down our pants or under our coats, believing that the right to protect ourselves trumps the rights of our children, our nation, our moral consciousness. We all bear the scars of accepted brutality and senseless waste of life, and we all should carry the shame of how cavalierly we label this violence ‘self-defense’ and not the cowardice that it truly is. Weapons are indeed the problem. We’ve arrived at the point in our evolution where man no longer needs to use his brains or savvy to control anger or solve issues. BOOM! With one flick of the finger the conflict’s over. It’s that fast. No thought necessary.
I am a pacifist. I do not believe that violence ends violence. That weapons solve problems. I believe that we are highly evolved creatures capable of navigating the world successfully without weapons. And that those who do so are the ones who, historically, we admire and revere as the utmost example of enlightened human possibility.
Truly now this country, my country, feels color blind. A sea of red, oozing down the street, bleeding down our sidewalks, pooling at our feet doesn’t change a thing. Black and white are still the colors of fear and domination, and metallic gray is the answer.
What if every gun were replaced with a paintbrush? What would the world look like then? What would the world feel like if every person could spend the day dipped in another’s skin color now and again?
One day, quite soon, white people will not hold the majority on ‘best’ skin type. More and more we are becoming a world of browns – of taupes and mochas, cinnamons and caramels. Before our very eyes the world warms, and we white people swirl around in our own superior juice like bits of brisket in the melting pot of life – even as we brown, bit by bit.
As I gaze at the swirling skies, I wonder…will white folks resort more and more to the color of metal and steel as our skin power fades away? Can humans put down their weapons and visualize a world beyond black and white?
I don’t have any answers. I only have myself and my paintbrush, tucked now in my coat pocket, ready to be drawn at a moment’s notice. It’s my weapon of choice for such a black and white world. The one accoutrement that makes me feel secure as I wander along, searching for rainbows. For I want to live as a person of color.