I call myself colorless. That, of course, is not true. I am black, as were my father and mother. All my descendents were black. If one were to go solely by my skin color, my assertion of colorlessness is folly. And yet, more and more every day, I feel colorless. I feel less and less able to define myself as a black male in America because I'm not sure we, as a black people, are relevant anymore. We don't have to be. The best parts of black culture, in my opinion, have been auctioned off as we once were and black America has nothing left but the money and the blame. My lack of internal color is less a defect of character and more a submission to the delusion of integration. I am colorless and yet I am still being judged not by the content of my character but by the color of my skin. 

For the record, I am not a separatist, a black national, or any other label that would be ascribed to someone with opinions such as mine. I do believe in the promise of integration, of harmony amongst the races, of a unified America under the red, white and blue.

But I am also a realist and I believe that one cannot have integration on the outside while being divided on the inside. America is still divided on the idea of race and all the banter on the political scene this year is merely an uncovering of the lies that have accumulated in our country. To know that Jefferson wrote the finest words on freedom ever uttered whilst being served hand to foot by American slaves is to know, after the fact, that this country can never get to integration when we are divided internally. 

I further believe that this colorlessness is also our fault as a black people. We forgot that when we chastised those who "acted white," we not only ostracized our best talent for those who wouldn't want to support their own but we also made others who wanted to help irregardless of color, creed or sex rethink their position of assistance. Our hatred and fear of losing our culture, such as it was, has made us further divide and ostracize those of us who were left allowing us to scatter like seeds in the wind to be gobbled up at will. Now we find blacks who don't see the realities of our struggle to this day and those who are so blinded by those realities that they cannot see the hands of assistance from all sides to those who need them. 

Our black America is no longer ours alone. I feel that to finally get over the racial hump, we must finally once and for all admit that American history is, and forever will be, black history. Not exclusively so, but directly impacted upon the rise of this nation were the deaths and toil of thousands with dark skin and forced servitude. The continued success of this nation will come from us realizing that such a crime against humanity can never be repaid; it can only be paid forward. We can't have payments made for past sins by those now who are innocent. We all carry the stains of the past. The only thing we can do is make sure that if we do have a colorless society in the future that we tell everyone we know that it is not merely the color of one's skin that proves worth. And that starts on the inside. 

I lost a girlfriend once who was white. Her mother accepted me as a friend to her daughter but told her any relationship beyond that with me would have her disowned from her family. This was in the north, not the south, and that bitterness will never leave me completely. For me to believe that my skin is no longer a impedance to my happiness is to remember the lie of integration; there will always be someone who doesn't want my genetic blueprint in their family, no matter the color of my skin. So for me, deep down, it comes back to the idea of being colorless. On the inside, where it matters most, I have no color. But I cannot show that lack of color to those who are themselves colorless in their soul. And that sucks.