Some people will swear that we are all alike. This is usually meant metaphorically, we being alike under the same God or equality. Others will argue that we are not alike and they are right. Just take a look in a mirror. Take a look at a friend or a stranger. We may have the same equality under the God that we believe in, but we definately do not look alike. The reason for this is because on a long lazy cosmic day, God was bored, but being the Creator that he is, he could not resist this new urge. He took a great deal of time, choosing carefully from the colors of the universe. And this is what he did. He started with the human being even before its infancy.
Beyond the expanding seed and the bag of waters, he formed limbs, stepped back a moment and agreed to himself that it was a good start. Fashioning his most tender of all creations, he reached far into the galaxies and deep into the infant earth, extracting crystals of yellow from the finest topaz, pigments of cinnamon from the laurel bark, hushing crimsons to a blush, cooling whites to ivory, drawing shades of olive from the evergreen, and collecting several shades of ebony from the finest and most beautiful meteorites in the far distance, he selected each delicate tone.
Commanding energy from the sun, he collected the substance to mold and implant each fragile celestial seed. From where no man has seen, or ever imagined, he gathered up and formed its flesh giving beat to its heart, breathing his everlastingness upon its soul.
His “way” is embedded perpetually upon each tiny infant heel. His name he wrote indelibly between the lines of every precious fingerprint. Stepping back he admired his creation. “Yes”, he thought to himself. “This is by far my most fairest and delicate of creations. I wonder if they will notice they are different. I wonder if it will cause any conflict. “Well”, he said to himself, “I am only the creator, they will have to choose how to get along. He surely hoped that each having a different skin tone, different slants to the eyes, high and low cheekbones would never cause war, but he could only hope, he really didn’t want to know.
Pleased with his new creation, he lie back on his bed and continued giving birth to galaxies and universes, but his eye would often wander to the little corner where his greatest work of art was incubating.
This writing is dedicated to an old friend of mine who once complained that all things bad are black and all good things are white. She was my Black American boss and she made the mistake one day of asking me this difficult question. However, something was on my side that day. I went home and got out my best dictionary and looked up her name in the back. Her name is Winifed. Much to my surprise I found that “Winifred” meant white wave. You know I made her eat her words the next morning and she was shocked at the meaning of her name, which she had never known. I don’t think colors meant all that much to her since then.
And now I say to you, “Hello. How are you? What a beautiful skin tone you have. You must share with me the name of your cosmetician. I certainly would like to meet him or her. Well, it was nice meeting you. Oh, before I go, please keep in mind that skin tone can actually get you into war. Be very, very careful of war. It will distort your face and blemish it. You will lose your originality. Be proud to be who you are and always give thanks for the hidden place in the universe where the Creator incubated you and drew forth your beauty. We are beautiful pieces of starlight for starlight has no ego.