“I Don’t See Color”: Please Stop, We All Do!
Political correctness is a huge deal right now, especially in this country. White people have had so many things to compensate for due to the ugly history. I am not being hateful, I am being real. Think about it; we call humans with mental or physical disabilities “special”, we call black people African-Americans… we have names for every race and human condition.
Why is political correctness such a big deal now? Where do I fall into the mix? I am Moroccan, and according to the government, North Africans are considered Caucasians. After doing a DNA test, I am 86.9 % North African, 4.7% Nigerian, 4.3% Iberian, and 4.1% Italian. How am I caucasian? Doesn’t that mean white? European? Is that because we look white due to our appearance and European gene dominance during occupancy? Most people call that being raped by the occupiers, or falling in love and procreating a “frowned-upon” mixed baby which, in my opinion and many others who appreciate the power of immersion of cultures, makes our world a beautiful mosaic.
Growing up, there was an amazing Moroccan trans band called “nass el ghiwane”. They were radical stoner dudes back in the seventies, AKA “old hippie Morocco”, where artists were smoking hash and consuming a good amount of opium and coming up with the best lyrics and poetry of all time. Inhalation of the body and getting into a higher state of mind made way to higher thinking. Esther Freud wrote a novel called “Hideous Kinky” in 1999 about an English woman moving to Morocco in the 70s, looking for enlightenment, and embracing Sufism in order to get in touch with her soul… basically looking for the same thing.
Gnawa music came from slaves in West Africa, who used handmade instruments and music to escape their reality and get into a state of trance. Their song “Aisha” was all about this beautiful woman that used to lure the occupant soldiers and kill them as a part of her revolutionary work to be free from European occupation. In the meantime, this woman got pregnant and had several mixed babies with European soldiers that looked nothing like us back then. This is just an example of how I started to learn about where I came from. People like me have been struggling with identity for as long as they can remember.
Bob Marley sang: ”Buffalo Soldier, dreadlock Rasta, stolen from Africa, brought to America”. “Fighting for survival”… aren’t we all? Fighting to know who we are, and how we are perceived in this society. “Hot headed”, “too passionate”, “loud”, “sassy”, “emotional”… always trying to be the classy, soft spoken, classy and emotionless being this society is asking us to be.
Why? Is it the right thing to do? Or the ‘white’ thing to do? Again, I’m not being hateful, I am following facts, and struggling to settle this fight of multiple personalities that exists in my brain, body, and soul.
I Am African
I’ve had to explain that I am African to many people, I know I’m African, and European, and proud of my melange that makes me who I am. I am proof that races can mix and blend in the name of love.
So when you tell me you don’t see color, I call bullshit on that, because you’re insulting me by not acknowledging who I am. It’s ok to see color, because we are a mosaic of colors and tones, in order to make the world more colorful and more beautiful.
I see color, and so do you, and you, and you….