Colorblind

I am colorblind.

I’ll admit that I don’t necessarily understand all of the science about how that works. I just know that stop signs look green. Sometimes, fields of grass are red.

Often, when I tell someone, like a confused clerk in a clothing store who is baffled as to why I ask her what color a shirt is, I then have to explain that no, the world is not black and white. While I think that is an actual condition, your average, garden variety colorblindness just means that green can look red. Pink can look gray, or sometimes khaki. Blue can be purple, yellow can be orange, and teal never makes any sense.

I’ve always been colorblind, so it’s a bit of a non-issue for me. I suppose I pretty quickly learned I can’t always trust my eyes. I learned to ask questions. I learned that what I think I see may not always be how things are.

Things aren’t black in white. There are shades. Tilt my head a little, give something a different light, and it changes color.

Perspective matters.

This morning, I was overwhelmed on social media by people advocating dropping nuclear bombs on entire regions. Others were not able to see a religion followed by a billion people has to be about peace, else they would have already taken over the world. A few more can’t wrap their head around historical context. Fear of the unknown prevents reaching out to lend a helping hand.

To those, things are black and white. Good versus evil. Us versus them. Action without consequence. Action without questions.

I find myself wishing more people were colorblind.