I see the color of your eyes, your hair, and yes, your skin.
I don’t say that because I’m trying to be relevant or woke or politically correct . . . or not. Maybe saying that is none of those things. Maybe this post will offend a number of people, and that’s never my intent, intentionally bringing offense. But it’s the truth . . . a fact . . . I see color.
There was a time when I thought not seeing color was the right thing to do. And I stand corrected. Judging, treating others as less than, based upon skin color (or any other trait) is always unequivocally wrong. I want to be very clear about that. But acting as if we’re all the same, as if our differences don’t exist, is also not right.
I see color because I’m a (very) white (thank you to my Irish heritage) mother of a child with beautiful deep brown skin. Denying we’re different is ridiculous. And I see color because she sees color.
She notices freckles and shades of skin . . . eyes and hair, both texture and color . . . She looks for those that look like her and those that do not. Never in a judgmental way. Always in an observational way. What she has taught me is that our differences aren’t things to be ignored, as if they don’t exist, but something to be celebrated. Each of uniquely created, our skin, our hair, our eyes . . . the list goes on . . . and so when she notices that her skin is “brown” and mine is “white”, I don’t shy away from that. I don’t hush her saying it’s “something we don’t discuss”. As if different equals bad. Instead, I take the opportunity to teach her that we are all special and beautiful and unique, carefully crafted by and made in the image of the Master Creator. We aren’t just a result of a genetic lottery but have each been formed and created with so much love.
So yes. I see color. And I will celebrate every single beautiful shade of color God has given us.
“For You formed my inward parts;
You covered me in my mother’s womb.
I will praise You, for I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
Marvelous are Your works,
And that my soul knows very well.
My frame was not hidden from You,
When I was made in secret,
And skillfully wrought in the lowest parts of the earth.
Your eyes saw my substance, being yet unformed.
And in Your book they all were written,
The days fashioned for me,
When as yet there were none of them.” – Psalm 139:13-16
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