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Still figuring out my six words.

Harbert-RobRob Moore,
Oak Park, IL.

I was raised in Southern California, born into a military family. I’ve lived most of my life in a white–or beige–bubble. Recently, because of an important and loving relationship, I’ve been thinking a lot more about race as it affects us today. Reading Claudia Rankine, Patricia Smith, many others who have clear insight into our environment today.

We are all shades of Beige

Ronald Mark,
Camano Island, WA

I’ve never seen a white person, I mean truly white, and I’ve never seen a truly black person.

We are all shades of beige!

Can we ignore the rest of the slang toss it out of the dictionary. Consider it juvenile!

Move on, No discrimination, No riots. At some point in human history we’ll get past this, how about today!

Words divide us.

My kids are “beige”, not white…

Linda
Levittown, NY

My three children are a mix of English/Irish and Puerto Rican and when you line them up in a row, you can see one mirrors me, the second mirors my husband and our third is a pretty even split down the middle and can “fit” either side of our mixed family. A family member I will not name once told my 7 year old in front of his younger sister and brother he was white which caused his 6 year old sister to question why she wasn’t white like he was…how do you explain these concepts to children who are being raised not to see or judge color and ethnicity as if it were golden ticket or a handicap?? I explained to them that day that none of us (in our family) are “white”, we are just different shades of beige…some lighter, some darker…all beautiful, smart and loved. Children are born blind to prejudices and that needs to be protected and encouraged so they grow into secure and open-minded adults.

Which of your parents is white?

Crystal White
Detroit, MI

Growing up with a fair complexion in a place like Michigan is harder than most would think. With Detroit being pretty much the only city inhabited by African Americans until recent years, living in the suburbs was a difficult life. From being called the n-word in elementary school where I was the only African American girl in my class, to getting to high school and my curly hair often prompting the questions, “What are you mixed with?” or “Which one of your parents is white?”, I had experienced an often ignored kind of discrimination. No, I wasn’t directly being called an Oreo or half-breed, but the sheer implication that I was a mutt, hurt just the same. My reply to the questions was always, “I’m mixed with my mother and my father.” Beige is Beautiful!

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