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I’m really not a racist!
Oh, really? Well then…
I grew up in New York City. Even back in the ‘70s and ’80s, the public schools were diverse.
My friends could have formed a United Colors of Benetton ad. We came in all different colors and from many different countries.
I remember one time, a group of us decided to affirm ourselves.
“Black is beautiful!” said one girl with gorgeous ebony skin. We all laughed and agreed. Then, looking at a girl from Jamaica, she said, “brown is beautiful too.”
“Tan is terrific!” proclaimed my Pakistani friend.
“Amber is amazing,” said a Filipino girl as she ruffled her hair.
“Beige is… beige is…” I tried to come up with an adjective that was not “beautiful”.
“Beige is brilliant,” offered my Greek friend before pointing at herself and proclaiming, “And white is wonderful!”
We also came up with “peach is perfect” and “gold is gorgeous”.
The thing is, we were all friends. None of us were blue-eyed blonds, but we saw ourselves as beautiful. I loved my Colombian friend’s long, mahogany colored hair. An Italian girl loved the way my hair made ringlets.
Some of us were third generation Americans. Others had just immigrated. It didn’t…
