I am a white person, so — automatically — everything I write here will fit the title of today’s post.
That takes the pressure off.
I wonder if pressure, worry, or anything else turns my face white?
Here are some more thoughts from this white person, this morning, about “white”:
- At my age (62), hair is often white for white people.
- Being white has privileges of which I am aware,
- Doctors and other people often comment on my “good color,” perhaps because of my congenital cardiac condition, which probably means I am neither as white (nor as blue) as they might expect or fear.
- My white boyfriend Michael just told me that Harley, the whiter of our two cats, is “slowly shredding the world.”
- I have some important medical appointments this week with at least two white cardiologists and I’m hoping their recommendations don’t turn my face whiter.
- I saw a lot of white, in my vicinity, yesterday:
That last white photo includes a white gift from Vahan, who works at the fish counter of my local supermarket. Vahan knows about my white habit of taking photos at the Star Market with pens of various colors, so he gave me a pen that looks like a white, human spine.
Here’s a white song for you all:
What thoughts and feelings of any color are you having, right now?
Thanks to Michael, Vahan, Harley, the Jefferson Airplane, white rabbits, and all who helped this white person write this post this morning. Also, multi-colored thanks to you for reading it, today.