This is What I Always Say…

Hello everyone,

I am writing today to share something that many of you who have followed me here at WordPress have heard me say before. We are not born racist.  We are born completely loving and accepting of goodness. We are born not seeing each other differently but as a version of ourselves. We are not racist at birth. What happens? Well, we are taught by others, by adults to be racist. We are taught to care what color we are and what color others are. We are taught that color has value. Some colors are more important than others.


Being a painter as well as a photographer, color is important to me. The color of a flower, a bird, a tree, the color of sand at the beach, the color of the majestic mountains which scrape the sky. When I am painting, I often mix two or perhaps three colors to create the perfect color for what I am painting in the world. One color is not needed more than others. Some colors are needed in just a little dab. Sometimes you wash a little color over what you have already painted to enhance the color. It doesn’t really change it. It deepens or accentuates the color. Every color on my palate is just as important to me as the next one. Yes, they are different, but each has equal value to the heart and to this beautiful Universe.


I included the Iris below because it is an unusual color. I raised it and photographed it. It not a common color for an iris, but it is a pretty color. And the photograph is my gift to you. I can’t really give you a gift but this is as close as I can come. Please accept it in the spirit in which it is given.


Golden Iris. Photograph and copyright by Barbara Mattio, 2014

Golden Iris. Photograph and copyright by Barbara Mattio, 2014


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bjwordpressdivider (1)


I am also writing this blog in memory of every human being, adult or child, who has suffered in any way or has been killed because of the color of their skin. I am writing for every grief stricken parent who will never be able to fill the hole within themselves. I am writing for every sibling left behind because their sister or brother is dead because of the color of their skin. I am writing for every lost sibling who will never laugh together over a private joke. I write today for everyone who is different in some manner and is afraid that one day someone will kill them for their differences.


I am writing this today for a young man. A young man who worked for me along time ago. He was a hard worker, he had a good sense of humor, he had a good and loving heart. He offered someone a ride home one evening and the person slit his throat because he was different. He bled out all alone. I am sure he was afraid, and wondering why? Why? Why?

Because he was different and this person hated him for being different. Labels were applied by the stranger who killed him and so he slowly bled out behind the wheel of his car alone. Alone and gone too soon.


“Immature grapes are made by the breath of the Master.

Then the sourness of duality, hate, and strife disappears,

and they are peeled of their skins to become one in the wine.”


8 thoughts on “This is What I Always Say…

  1. Beautiful Iris, bittersweet post. Thank you, Barbara.

    • Thank you for your comment. I feel that though it might be somewhat bittersweet as you say, it is full of hope. Racism can only be eradicated with acceptance and love. Until we face racism, we can’ cut it out like the malignancy it is. Light and blessings, Barbara

  2. Mr. Militant Negro says:

    Reblogged this on The Militant Negro™.

  3. Cristina Cárdenas says:

    Finally found someone who believes in the same things I do and who shares my opinion of RACISM! I’ve been telling everyone for so long that you can legislate all the laws you want, but you can’t change what’s in the HEARTS & MINDS of people who have been taught by their PARENTS, from the cradle to the grave how to hate! Racism is created by FAMILY! Just as they got it from theirs, they carry it FORWARD generation after generation, sadly! I have always been an IDEALIST (OPTIMIST TOO) and a REBEL! And I found it interesting that’s your handle. Wish I had thought of it before I named my TWITTER account Chris’View @MCrisCardena
    I fought with my parents my whole life over what they wanted me to believe and race as a whole. I grew up in 60s and 70s (53 age) and as such grew up with a lot of social turmoil in this country. But I have always had fortitude of character to BELIEVE what I feel is JUST, no matter what grief I get back in return. So my relationship with my mother in particular, was always EXTREMELY DIFFICULT! So be it, I am very independent, exceptionally intelligent and have to be ALWAYS MY OWN PERSON, no matter the cost! I as a Cuban-American have suffered from RACISM in America off and on, since I deplaned on 8/6/68, in MIAMI. But it wasn’t until we got to Union City, New Jersey that same month that I learned the meaning of HATE! It started with Spic go back to Cuba and just kept on, until we moved to Miami, FL 5yrs later! WELCOME TO AMERICA, free BUT not LOVED by everyone! Thank you for sharing Barbara. I always renew my faith in people when I find someone like you, who has a giant heart like me and who makes a difference and still believes there is hope for us, all of which I too believe and hold precious. Thank you for being a good person who holds on to their ideals! LET’S BE IDEALISTIC REBEL WOMEN!!
    Thank you! Chris Cardenas

    • I am sorry about all of your experiences. My life has been filled with protests, marching and picketing.I simply live my life according to my ideals. Some make you friends and some don’t. Sorry, but I came up with my blog name years ago and I own the domain and twitter too. Try not to hold on to hate, lack of empathy and lack of compassion. Sometimes, the best way to teach someone an ideal is to quietly live it. Almost everyone suffers from “isms” including myself. You will reach more people by how you live your life than what you say about it. I am sorry that your “American” experience wasn’t great. It wasn’t for many, including my grandparents. Buddha tells a story about a man who was angry and his anger became like a hot coal in the palm of his hand. In the end, the only person hurt by his anger, or the hot coal was himself.I don’t know why it came to me to tell you that story. It is very nice to meet you and I hope you will follow and comment. I am 66 and I grew up in very uncertain times. Some socially and some my own stand for what I believed in. Writing is a good way to reach people with your message and I hope you will write your message for others to read. Remember that the mind is like a parachute, it only works when open.
      Peace and harmony, Idealisticrebel

  4. Better today than Sunday or yesterday. And you?

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