“For the Primary Colors… And the winner is…”
I am writing to you concerning the above phrase that you are well aware of and familiar with, a phrase that was mentioned to the loudest shock in the history of mankind, not because the alphabets themselves are new, or that the sequence of the words are alien to us, but for what came next:
“…Red, Yellow, Blue!”
Where, fellow reasoning somebody, do I even begin to decry this gross gap in judgment?
This misperception of true worth? This lapse in oversight by what is supposed to be the unbiased selection committee for the Lifetime Award of the Primary Colors, where?
Should you be in the dark about the magnitude of this error, may I educate you of the implication:
This isn’t the typical lifetime achievement awards given to artistes to recognize them for what they have done, especially in their heydays, and to lull them to the glorious exit of retirement. No, this is not a valedictory clap; this is a vocal commissioning for even more performance.
For a justification of their kangaroo court of an awards committee, the selection panel jumbled the summary of their selection criteria with some phrases—three high-sounding phrases—that the mostly undiscerning public would give a cursory glance, and at incomprehension of which, would yay! and applaud away all doubts. I’ll explain them all.
“Prerogative of Reference”:
You need to realize they have just made these awardees the literal poster children—or, actually, parents—of colors.
They are now the go-to for all considerations, reviews and decisions on paints, dyes, crafts and themes of the aesthetic sort. This is as against the earlier liberal and all-inclusive approach to such matters.
This is not just autocratic, it is disenfranchising. Where does that leave your choice and voice as a citizen? They call it coronation; I label it sacrilege.
“Leeway of Derivativeness”:
It means no one but these folks will be responsible for the formation of new color variations we will ever have.
This is a license to merge and mix and create without recourse to social consensus. Imagine the hideous crossbreeding of those entities ..gosh,a Chimera of possibilities! What genetic taboo have we endorsed!
“Liberalization of the Latitude of Creativeness”:
This jargon just implies they have just yanked open the floodgates of disorder. They feel by streamlining creative control to these set of jokers, they would open up a whole new vista of artistic possibilities. The drivel! This has just commissioned deception on a grand scale, an unchecked uncertainty about where reality and reason start or end.
Imagine, for instance, being unable to tell if what you’re seeing is untainted or blended, all in the pretext of experimentation. Colors are meant to change spontaneously to another, not fade over such shocking spectrum of shades. The visual deception and the visceral discontent awaiting us are untold!
Recall the ridiculous selection justification that the committee read out at their post-award press conference:
The consuming, fiery flare of anger, as well as the temperate caution of danger, we regarded her the paragon of passion and peace, to release and to rein in. She would be the perfect driver of the primary colors team.
From the bright radiance of the sun to the brilliant ripeness of the banana, we considered this sweet, ne’er-dull, ever-excited entity to bring life and youthfulness to the mix.
Reminiscent of sky and sea, we considered him to be calm, inoffensive and mature. We reckoned he will bring a solid equilibrium and masculine slant to the squad.
Seriously? It is a no-brainer that for a group of people laden with the constitutional responsibility of such a task as heavy and as decisive in history as this, their sense of observation should be incurably keen and not a stringing together of some watery PR narratives and buttery praise for ill-equipped candidates.
I would contest it less if the choice of Red was in a bid to give honor to the lifeblood running in our veins, but hey, fire and anger as virtues? What good have those done anyone? To release and rein in? Are we idolizing bipolarity here?
Blue is just the lukewarm, indecisive fella who doesn’t want to have his voice heard or hurt anyone. Boring, uninspiring, unremarkable.
And, oh, don’t even get me started on the happy-go-lucky Yellow. Ripeness? Isn’t her yellow a product of a prior green? How much bananas exactly have these guys gone? And did they say ne’er-dull, ever-excited? Do they think this is some circus?
Grinning for the camera and pouting and posing between the other two, the juvenile being, who is clearly still basking in the hormonal rush of adolescence, is yet unaware the midst of the more experienced duo she is tossed in: The idiot doesn’t know she is trapped between the red devil and the deep blue sea.
If you are tempted to imagine this as some smear campaign splashed from the brushstrokes of malice, think again; the truth of our argument is self-evident. Of the lineup of worthy nominees for the award, this trio is the best we can do? Did the selection team even look around them for a second?
Or they just handpicked from a place of obvious bias? My grouse with humanity is its inhumanity, especially in the lack of recognition for the most deserving. Our priorities are so misguided and misplaced it cannot be more mortifying.
Did no one happen upon the age-long plainness of Black and White? Did anyone consider their greatly overlooked and depressingly unappreciated functions, say, in the decisiveness of day and the certainty of night, two things we can’t do without?
They are as consistent as they are capable—you don’t need remind them of their duties. Their complimentary distinction, the ying-yang-ness of it, and the graceful absence of competition with which they go about it all, offer no misleading overlaps.
These folks are as unambitious as they come, with justice in their operations and joy in their essence.
Should the awards committee have thought deeply enough, it would have found these two an option whose merit is as clear as drinking water and as profound as the deep.
But no, people will rather relegate them to fodder for the inelegant typologies for race and identity: ‘oh, he’s black’ or ‘hey, she’s white.’
Or me, did they not notice the environment? The delightful lush of all foliage, the only color counted worthy of gracing the expression of nature’s beauty: It’s not called ‘God’s green earth’ for no reason.
I am the hue of chlorophyll, the very ingredient through which the oxygen you and I—and the corrupt crop in that committee—will die without, is made. So how much more essential must I be, show me some damn respect!
Rather, getting feelers I would take them up on this sham of their awards, they tried to corner me with an unsolicited bribe of being one of the traffic light trio, alongside no other but the treacherous duo of, yes, Red and Yellow. A high-throne icon offered the role of a highway indicator? Implementation of true justice is what we should insist on, not underhanded palliatives masquerading as public goodness.
Is there a better irony than ‘relevant but relegated’? If we are this essential, why should we not be so esteemed? How could we be so popular yet not regarded primary?
If these questions and our manifesto resonate with you, concerned citizen, and you’re hungry for colorful justice on this cause as we are, please sign and share this petition.