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I had a (white female) boss once, who told me a story about the (Black female) nanny who lived in her family's basement. Boss never explained race to her kids. Kids came home from school one day shocked to discover that some people saw the nanny in the basement differently.
Now, I get that "colorblindness" wrt race is well-intended even if I find it fucked up. This story was the first time I learned how such a thing might come about.
But these kids missed out on key lessons that I learned from my own white mother from a much younger age.
But these kids missed out on key lessons that I learned from my own white mother from a much younger age.
See, my mom was pushing my sister + me in a stroller one day when someone drove by and called us "n****r babies." One- and two-year-old literal babies targeted for racial abuse.
My mom took responsibility. Made sure my sister and I knew what the world might look and sound like.
My mom took responsibility. Made sure my sister and I knew what the world might look and sound like.
I watched Roots young. I leaned from my mom the Black history that was ignored in school. And when eventually I was treated differently, was followed in a store, was held to different standards, it wasn't a surprise like it was for my boss's kids.
My mom never shied away from the hard truths. She didn't think that having a Black husband and children was any kind of "fix" for a racist society - one that was violent to her for her choices as well.
She acted, always, to protect and prepare us.
She acted, always, to protect and prepare us.
Because "not seeing color" wasn't an option. Protecting her children wasn't an option. Teaching her children that equality under the law is a recent and as-yet still shaky thing wasn't an option. Showing her children that anything is possible, but that we'd have to work harder...
Wasn't an option.
I was in my late 20s before I saw and understood her choices. The Black baby dolls. The Black Santas. The picture books with Black children. All the many small (but big) choices.
Because she *chose* to see color. And understood that her children needed it.
I was in my late 20s before I saw and understood her choices. The Black baby dolls. The Black Santas. The picture books with Black children. All the many small (but big) choices.
Because she *chose* to see color. And understood that her children needed it.
We needed to see ourselves represented. We needed to see heroes and myths and inventors and astronauts who looked like us. We needed to know that anything - everything - was possible. And that on some level, we'd only believe it if we saw ourselves represented among successes.
That's the power in "seeing color."
It's showing everyone, children and adults alike, that there isn't one single default demographic for success. It's seeing the struggles that those who aren't the "default" have in succeeding.
It's showing everyone, children and adults alike, that there isn't one single default demographic for success. It's seeing the struggles that those who aren't the "default" have in succeeding.
It's brutal honesty in a world that wants to pretend we're post-racial even as systemic anti-Black racism persists and white supremacists kick off the year of our Lord 2021 attacking the nation's Capitol...and get off light.
If you are racially "colorblind" then bless your heart but you're part of the problem.
We need you to see our color.
Because only then can you see our challenges and obstacles - and make a choice to help us break through them in the name of equity, justice, and inclusion.
We need you to see our color.
Because only then can you see our challenges and obstacles - and make a choice to help us break through them in the name of equity, justice, and inclusion.
Don't be "colorblind" when you write.
And if you're not comfortable with that...are you really the right person to write a non-white character?
And if you're not comfortable with that...are you really the right person to write a non-white character?
