What happens is that after each attack on Latinos or immigrants (the Teargas parades last year or so, the stabbings and beatings of Latinos or perceived Mexicans/immigrants) I generally start shoving. I’m not sure I can help it. I’m trying to ride out this crazy time and honestly, I’m as gentle as I can be with my feelings. People can go away or go away mad or refuse to think about it or why I might be angered or whatever…that’s their option. Others, like you (and me, it’s not as if I don’t get my feelings hurt by seeking awareness and growth) can choose to think about why the pain is there and if others might have pain, too, and how they can work, do good work, change things. If they want.

I know “colorblind” folks mean well. I’m not really worried about those who mean well. I’m worried more about those who mean well and are stabbed in the heart while heading to a friends, or ripped out of their home and parent’s arms so they can be shoved into a detention center where so many well-meaning people wont know or care to change it.

Remember though that those who consider themselves colorblind are not (mostly, I know I was not) hateful or stupid, just trying to deal with a subject they really would like to ignore. It is like switching the channel when you see an image of a African child face covered in flies. You know it is true, but your mind is repulsed by it and seeks escapes somewhere else, like on who made it to the semi-finals in Dancing with the Stars. No challenge to the status quo, no commitment to larger purpose, no struggle against the inevitable, nothing that screams “What the fuck are you doing about this!”

So guide them gently to the light, don’t push them. Too much light, to soon can also blind, painfully.

But I do think no one else should call somoene that. Mostly due to politeness and manners. Even the sentence you mentioned about looking in the mirror trying to find the different halves of yourself. Obama has written in his books about that, it was a long journey for him to come to the acceptance of identity he has now. It was a physical journey as he actually travelled to Kenya and Kansas, and a mental journey, too. There probably were days when someone calling him a mutt would’ve made him angry, even though he’s cool with it now.

Secondly, like I said I thought it was “cute.” Not everyone wants to be seen as “cute.” Not me, a really short woman, I try hard to be seen as more than just “cute.” The president-elect of the third largest nation in the world, a tall, pysically able, handsome man at that, can get away with a cute joke here or there without anyone thinking less seriously about him, and he’s all ready had plenty of time in the spotlight to explain who he is in a less joking manner. A “cute” joke, while not downright nasty, is still bad enough for someone struggling to be taken seriously – you’re still made the butt of a joke, no matter how tame the joke maker thinks it is.