I don’t understand the idea of a “person of color”
Anyone who knows me will tell you I am, very much seasonally dependent, red, bright red, tan, pasty white, pink, and a variety of blends thereof.
But I am not without color.
I mean even dead people have color, it’s not a pretty, huggable, want to have it color, but it is a color.
I am not being facetious here.
To use such an imprecise descriptive phrase as some sort of a definitive demarcation of race seems petty and disingenuous.
I think it demeans the very injustices it is trying to define, and it has become its own stereotype.
It is a visual expression of multi-culturalism, it is in and of itself exclusionary.
I wish I had the perfect solution, the perfect way to differentiate those in society that have been marginalized, discriminated against from those who have not.
I do not.
I am lumped into the stereotype of being without color.
Just ask the people that know me, my skin is never without color.
But, inasmuch as I acknowledge the advantage my skin has given me, white is a color.