No, I'm not talking about being colour-blind.
I'm talking about race.
Yep, this "white girl" is going there. Except, there's a caveat. I'll explain that interesting little piece of info at the end of my warble.
I'll warn you ahead of time, my forte, when it comes to writing, is not the kind of thing I am going to write about. I typically keep it light and fluffy, aside from the occasional posts about my late son, my battle with depression, or the occasional diatribe regarding issues I am deeply passionate about.
Over the weekend I read a series of posts which made me think. I'm talking, deep and profound thoughts. The kind of thoughts that caused me to open a bottle of my favourite chardonnay, inhale deeply and wonder if I'm doing my children a huge disservice by not emphasizing colour more, throughout their upbringing.
I'm going to admit right up front, when I first started to read all of these posts, deep inside I yelled; "But I don't see colour! I DON'T!" People are people; black, white, yellow, tan, gold...whatever colour you are, you bleed the same blood and bottom line, you are a human and that's how I see you. That's what I thought anyhow. I thought that was the important thing, to just see the people I share this earth with as humans.
Then I received a proverbial slap in the face which began with this post by Miss Britt. From there, I went here, and read and read and read. I read each and every comment on Mocha Momma's post. What started as a slap in the face became a kick to the gut. I eventually backtracked to another post that Miss Britt mentioned by Susan Mernit, that talked specifically about Blissdom and the lack of diversity at the recent Blissdom '09 conference. Now, I didn't go to Blissdom '09 and I only have the post-event blather by those who did attend, to go by. Further to that, I don't know Alli Worthington, (Mrs. Fussypants), don't read her blog and don't subscribe to Blissfully Domestic either. Not that I don't want to, I simply don't have the time to devote to another online magazine and in case you hadn't noticed, my blogroll is pretty full and I have serious problems just keeping up with the writers/bloggers on it. Yeah, I kinda suck at the whole "balance" thing.
See, it started out simply enough...someone questioning the apparent lack of diversity at a women's blogging conference. In all fairness, after reading the comments of some of the women who attended Blissdom '09 and other panelists, I don't think Alli Worthington intentionally excluded anyone. I don't know if she's responded to any of the chatter, so I can't say for sure. However, I also can't assume that she bent over backwards in an effort to include as much diversity as possible. Frankly, for me, the issue with all this isn't the lack of diversity at Blissdom '09. For me it all comes down to a deeper issue of not seeing something in someone else -ignoring it if you will - to the point of denying people of colour something that is as inherent to them as writing and biting my nails are to me.
Did that make sense?
What I'm trying to say, and possibly failing miserably at, is that claiming innocence by screaming, "But I don't see colour!" as it relates to my relationships with women and men of colour, that I am ignoring something that is as integral to them as my eye colour is to me.
Does this make me a racist though? God, I really hope not. Do I need to become better at seeing the colour around me (OK, granted, I live in the whitest state in the union...seriously!), and become more aware of the fact that these men and women and children that I've always just seen as other humans, are more than that? I mean, I know they are more than that...but that part of what makes them the special people they are is the very fact they are people of distinct racial heritage.
So, by ignoring that, am I colour-blind or just ignorant? And what about my children...how do I teach them to recognize this and not be colour-blind? How do you teach your children to not just ignore, but embrace the rich diversity of people around them?
Wanna hear something funny? Well, to me it's funny for a few reasons. My little sister, Amanda, has always maintained that I am the "whitest person" she knows. She doesn't mean that to intonate that I am a racist or anything close to it. She means it in the Martha Stewart/Betty Crocker kind of way. When it comes down to it, I'm pretty damned bland. When it comes to people, I don't discriminate (at least not consciously), but when it comes to food, my house, and stuff like that, yeah...she's got me there. I'm pretty "white." Of course Amanda is, and she won' kill me so dead they'll have to bury me twice for saying this, a black woman trapped in a white woman's body. It's just how it is. And I love my adorable new niece who is of mixed heritage (why did I feel like I had to say that? Of course I love her, she is my niece! But see what I mean about this?). White people seem very bland and boring to her. She has always surrounded herself with African Americans and embraced their culture and everything beautiful that entails. There's nothing wrong with it at all. If anything it kind of shows the rest of us up for our incredible lack of "soul." Anyhow, I explained all that just so you could sort of understand where her comment stems from.
The ironic thing about all of this? That caveat I mentioned earlier? Take a good hard look at that picture of me in the upper right hand side bar. You see a blonde, white woman, don't you? Except...I'm not. White that is. Sure, colour-wise I suppose I'm pretty "white.". Actually I'm so pale I'm considered metabolically challenged by some. But all that whiteness hides the fact that I'm half Cherokee Indian. My sperm donor was (as in past tense...he's long dead) a Cherokee Indian. I've never really thought about it much. Never given any consideration to it...until I had a recent conversation with someone about it and he called me a "Prairie N*gger." He said it casually like someone might have mentioned I have two lips and a nose. I didn't even know what it was. I had to Google it.
Up until that moment, I'd really never given any thought to my own racial make-up or background, mostly because I was in-part, raised by old, white, Dutch women and my sperm donor was not around. He bailed when I was three and that was that. American Indians have always been something I read about in class or watched in cowboy and Indian movies on TV. I am not ignorant to the fact that white men nearly decimated entire tribes of American Indians, killed their source of food and stole their land. I guess you could say that up until recently, I "heard" these stories, these histories, but never really listened.
Sure, I always knew that American Indian blood ran through my veins but I really never thought much about it...until that day when I was called a Prairie N*gger. Now? Well, now it's different. Now I listen. I think I'm starting to understand a bit better that despite all of us being human, we're so much more than that...than the colour of our skin.
Perhaps I have been colour-blind all this time.
