Why “Race” is the DNA of Racism
Perhaps life’s greatest tragedy is it’s possible to “know” something that’s false
“Hey, Genius… ever noticed you’re one of the few Black guys livin’ in our building?” my pal joked, with tongue firmly in cheek.
I smiled, racking my brain for a witty comeback.
“Hey, Nick…” I said while pointing to his feet. “Ever noticed you’re one of the few whose feet wear red shoes while livin’ in our building?”
His eyebrows raised. Seconds later, his face contorted in a squint before erupting in laughter.
Such goes the arbitrary nature of “color.” For example trumps precept, let’s take a routine traffic light for instance.
Red means stop. Yellow means hesitate. Green means go. Excellent!
Of course, if from now on we agree green means stop, yellow means hesitate and red means go… guess what?
Such “language games,” said Wittgenstein, far too often confuse us. After all, viewing Google Maps isn’t sightseeing Paris any more than browsing Olive Garden’s menu is tasting spaghetti.
As for the so-called color differences, they’re irrelevant. Ultimately. So long as each color belongs to the same crayon box — they’re all the same.
