Demystifying the Color-blind Lie
You have likely heard the term color-blindness. Color-blindness literally means not seeing color. That is a straightforward definition, whether used medically or metaphorically. What is convoluted is the cunning way color-blind ideology is used to simultaneously challenge and uphold racism in modern America. Color-blindness is possibly the most mis-understood and mis-used term for defining a socially just society. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr.’s plea for our ability to one day be judged not by our complexion, but by our sense of integrity, has become the catalyst for and effigy of the concept of color-blindness. Whether our intentions are inclusive and selfless, or unprincipled and malicious, generally, the color-blindness claim can be used to justify the goal that all people are equal, regardless of race, culture, or ethnicity. For some folks, this is ambitious optimism. If we say that we don’t see differences, they won’t exist. After all, doesn’t drawing attention to racial differences actually perpetuate racism?
While blindness infers not seeing, we know that just because we do not see something does not mean it isn’t there. Color-blindness implies more than failing to acknowledge race and ethnicity. Claiming race-neutrality endorses the power behind the biased institutional, procedural, and systemic mechanisms of economic resources, class, appearance, religion, and political views. If we pretend not to see something, we simply don’t have to acknowledge its existence or importance. We invalidate it. In racial terms we would not have to consider how race and racism affects our lives: the lives of those who are burdened by it, nor those who benefit from it. Color-blindness reinforces the invalidation of racialized experiences. And it is synonymous with SHUT-THE-HELL-UP. Well-meaning promises that we don’t see race, symbolically renders people of color invisible. We may not define ourselves by our experiences, but we are certainly shaped by them. While in racial contexts, color-blindness suggests being blind to racial differences, the meaning we assign to it differs greatly. So, how do we learn what we mean?
Learning to Talk About Race
Failure to mutually exchange (receiving and hearing) information on racism has kept us in a continuous state of fantasizing that we are beyond race, or something worse: building upon the return to blatant racism that has become the practice as a result of polarized administrative presidencies. For centuries we have wrestled with racial discrimination: even among those who claim to have never believed racism was a problem. For decades, we have been evolving beyond the foundational work of the Civil Rights Movement, relying in part more on its legacy, than our own activism.
That is, until the death of Trayvon Martin, which was the precursor to the flood gate that was Ferguson, Missouri, 2014. A date that many consider the pivotal point in time when a new conversation started. Where we again repeated the cycle of searching for understanding. Once again questioning everything about race and racism that we thought we knew, need others to know – at a time when collectively people around the country just became fed up.
How can we validate the core principles of liberal and conservative government, without vilifying the people who believe those principles? They say the enemy of my enemy is my friend. Why is my enemy my nemesis in the first place? Our politics and policies have become so aligned with religion and personal values, that it has spurred broad social disengagement; further polarizing ourselves.
For centuries we have feigned the legitimacy of race. It’s time we understood how how to talk about racism and to confront the color-blind lie.
