Colorblindness: The Facade of Equality

When you go into a grocery store, what is the easiest way to tell that a tomato is ripe? When coming upon a stop light, how do you determine whether to hit the brakes, or to keep driving safely without having to worry about getting T-boned by an oncoming truck? The answer to these questions is the same – your ability to see color. So why is that when faced with the same the question about detecting visual differences in our fellow humans – so many progressive White folks default to the statement, “I don’t see color?”

The implication of this statement is obviously not literal, but it is still problematic for two primary reasons:

1.) It perpetuates complicit racism by denying White privilege and deliberate social conditioning

2.) It denies the identities and experiences of those we have oppressed[i]

The first problem of claiming to be colorblind is that if we truly believe this about ourselves, then the only color that we don’t see is our own Whiteness. Consequently, we either ignore or deny the deliberate social conditioning that ensures that we most certainly do see color. We are unable to recognize the culture of supremacy that we have been indoctrinated into, as well as our own privilege, prejudices, and biases. We want to believe that race is not a factor and that we treat everyone equally – but that is simply not possible. White privilege was designed not to be seen by those who possess it – only by those subjected to it. Consequently, our belief that we don’t see color also demonstrates that we don’t recognize our unmerited position of power. We want to believe that we have earned our place on merit alone – and that we are in no way complicit in our unequally structured society.

The problem is not that we see color – the problem is that our society has deliberately taught us how to see color – and how to treat people based on their designated categories. One of the biggest ironies is that White people who claim that we don’t see color are often the first ones to point out all of the racial injustices that we see around us. Moreover, we will often try and affirm and acknowledge the struggles faced by People of Color. However, if we don’t see color, how is it even possible for us to acknowledge that people that don’t look like us are being treated unfairly – and if so, why bother advocating on their behalf in the first place? Simply put, we cannot fix a problem that we claim we don’t see.

The counter argument to this would be to say, “Okay, well fine – I do see color, but I don’t intentionally treat people differently because of their skin color.” The simple caveat would be the word “intentionally.” There are plenty of things that we don’t intentionally do – but that can still cause harm. I don’t intentionally get upset with someone and react when I feel offended. I don’t intentionally get mad and yell when someone cuts me off in traffic. Similarly, I also don’t intentionally feel afraid of someone bigger than me, or someone of a different race. While our intentions in assuming that we don’t see color may be benevolent – our unconscious beliefs and actions end up being the catalyst for how our society is structured.

The second component of the colorblind myth is that it undermines the importance of diversity, as well as the identities and experiences of those we have oppressed. [ii] This does not mean simply adhering to the common cliché of “celebrate diversity.” Appreciating our unique appearances, cultures, customs, beliefs, languages, etc. is one thing, but it is critical that we also acknowledge the powerful identities that People of Color in the U.S. have deliberately and painstakingly forged for themselves, despite insurmountable oppression and systematic attempts throughout history to strip them of their very humanity.

This is especially the case for Black Americans. Roni Faida, a contributing writer to the Huffington post, and proud Black woman, summarized the sentiment felt by many People of Color. “When you tell me you don’t see my color, you are basically telling me that you don’t see a huge part of who I am and that doesn’t help me. What I want you to say is, ‘I see your color. And it’s beautiful.’” [iii] Faida also highlights that when White people professor to be colorblind, it stops important conversations about race, while also making her feel dismissed and invalidated as an African American woman living in a overwhelmingly White society.

Unless we can confront our own biases and prejudices – then we can’t fully understand the systems of oppression that are in place all around us. We have to acknowledge that not only has our skin color given us unmerited privilege, safety, and protection – but also that other people’s skin color has unfairly deprived them of those very things. By stating that we don’t see color, or genuinely believing that we don’t treat people differently because of their skin color, we are sending the message to all People of Color that we honestly believe that we have individually overcome our own racism. This is a disheartening message for communities that continue to experience daily racism, and also that have to work twice as hard to achieve a fraction of what we have. Moreover, it is especially painful for Black people to hear – because while we shamelessly claim we don’t see the color of their skin – they literally have to fear for their lives because of that very thing.

[i] https://www.forbes.com/sites/janicegassam/2019/02/15/why-the-i-dont-see-color-mantra-is-hurting-diversity-and-inclusion-efforts/#108bd9452c8d

[ii] ” “

[iii] https://www.huffpost.com/entry/why-i-hate-the-phrase-i-d_b_9341762