Despite all the trials and tribulations of last year, and the start of this one, there…
Yesterday afternoon I finished Small Great Things by Jodi Picoult, a huge book that I decided to listen to via audio book to save myself a carpal tunnel episode. As with all Ms Picoult’s books the story tackles a moral dilemma, that challenges the reader, and encourages a change of minds – several times – over the length of the book, and it has a surprise ending.
This book deals with race, and racism, and I don’t mind admitting that it made me uncomfortable in places; no, I don’t see myself as a racist in any way, but then I don’t have to, as one of the characters points out, because I am white.
Having been brought up that there is good and bad in all people regardless of skin tone I have always said ‘I don’t see colour’, but I will never say that again because it is b***s***. I know which of my friends are from different ethnic groups to me, pretending to think everyone is the same is really an unintentional insult to our differences.
A shopping trip to buy a new bra couldn’t have explained it better – I was hunting around until I found what I was looking for, “this is perfect, they call it skin tone” Janet looked at the peachy heap in my basket and said in a wry voice “not my skin tone”.