There was a bit on NPR this afternoon on my way back from my failed winter tire buying expedition and a caller came on and talked about how he “doesn’t even see color.”
That phrase drives me nuts. “I don’t even see color.” Bullshit.
I don’t even seen color does not equal I am not racist. It just is not saying the same thing.
The host of the show made a good point about seeing color, but not letting the negative stereotypes of race get in the way of your interactions and my bile drained.
Then Janaki sent me this tonight and everything came full circle:
When I was a kid, my mom did not like me describing people by their race, which I see as different than color blindness. I played soccer with this talented goalie named Erin and he was such a personality, such a cool guy that I never lacked for ways to describe him. I saw his color but when describing him to my mom, it just never came up. She pictured him as a nice Irish kid with red hair for months until she finally met the big black guy that he was.
So, anyway, there it is. My thoughts on race for the day that were running through my head as I ran around, not getting shit done.
Alright, I am off to see how many times I an do five pull-ups, ten push-ups and fifteen squats in twenty minutes. Thank you, Simplefit.org.