We need to stop looking at colors
I hate the terms “black” and “white.”
The very words themselves are divisive and in as stark a contrast as their opposite ends of the color spectrum suggest.
I have never seen a truly black person. Nor have I ever seen a truly white person. I have, however seen a lot of pink and brown people, many of whom I have loved dearly.
Brown people come in a variety of rich shades, as Forrest Gump would say, like a box of chocolates — from rich dark chocolate, to Hershey’s milk chocolate, to a lovely mocha latte.
Pink people also come in a variety of shades. If you don’t believe that, look through the Revlon or Cover Girl make-up section at Walmart.
Those shades of brown and pink are all on the outside of a person. Inside of all of them is blood, and it is all the same color — red.
Some pink people are jerks (I’ve known a few) and yes, some brown people are jerks (I’ve known a few of them, too). But they weren’t jerks because they were pink or brown; they were jerks because of what was inside of them.
I am a pink woman, and three of the most precious people I have known in my many years of life were Mrs. Martha Ferguson (and her son) whom I met through my therapy dog in the nursing home, the Rev. Paul Johnson, whom I met through my white pastor (who offered him his own kidney) and a precious woman named Daisy Patience, who was like a second mother to me and a shining example to me of everything a Christian should be.
All were various shades of brown, but we all shared the same red blood and we all shared the same love of each other and the one we also loved.
Let’s start a pink and brown movement and stop looking at everything and everybody in terms of black and white.