The Color of Life is … Clear … to me

Source: Google Image Search – licensed for reuse. Click pic for page.

I would, normally, be doing either a Friday Fictioneers or a Five Sentence Fiction selection tonight.   I am going to save those for the next few nights.  Something bothered me today and I want to show it to you after I rant a bit.  Color has lately become more of an issue in my life.  Not what I will wear tomorrow or what to paint my bathroom, but a more basic color problem.  It’s one that has set itself deep into the lives of most of us in the United States.  First,  it was black, then yellow, and lately it has been more of a southerly color.  The news has always been filled with it.  The news loves it because rough, dirty, horrible news sells so much better than happy, fluffy stuff.  The news has been biased since the beginning and still is.  The bias may change a bit depending on the paper, and, in fact, may switch sides entirely, however, it’s there – one side or the other.

I am, of course, referring to racism.  Let’s get some things straight, first.  I don’t care what color a person’s skin is.  It doesn’t matter much to me where you came from; I am more interested in who you are and where you are going.  I wasn’t always quite that way.  When I was young, perhaps eighth grade, I tried out for cross country.  During one race, I was standing in the crowd of runners at the line and the person next to me was black.  I remember looking at him and saying, “I am going to beat you.”  Now, of course, with the way I ran, that was never going to happen (and didn’t), but what has bothered me to this day so much was the reason I said that to him was simply that he was not the same color skin that I was.  As time has passed, I have left over 99.9% of all that behind me.  I would say 100%, but I think the roots you grow up with never entirely leave you, whether you like it or not.  But I am very happy with where I am now.  It others who bother me.

I am not going into names or anything here; that’s my issue not yours.  I am certain that you know people who are exactly like who I am talking about.  Here’s the thing:  I also see it coming from the other sides.  I know that many people of other skin colors have stereotyped those of us who are white.  I didn’t choose the color of my skin any more than all those other people.  So why does it have be to bad to be white, or black, or yellow, or purple for that matter?  Yes, this is me ranting.

What I wish for all of you is the wonderful feeling that I get inside when I realize that people are people.  Cultures are different and those don’t always mix well, but that is an entirely different matter.  If two people meet and decide to date (or marry or be friends) the skin color should be the last thing that decides whether or not it happens.

I know I am going to have people holler here; I know some will not like what I have said.  To this, I say:

You have a right to your opinion.  But harassment, ridicule, and racism are wrong!  People are people and none of us should have to fear retribution simply because of our skin color.

Oh – and just to put something out there:  not being white DOES NOT mean that person is not an American.

Okay, I will leave you with this clip – very well worth it – of the final reason this post exists:

Namaste,

Scott