Hashtag The Dress - Metaphorically Speaking

I’m not going to write that metaphor. I refuse. The one about the many magnificent truths held within the debate over the true colors of hashtag the dress.

It would be easy, and I am sure someone will do it. They will write something about how it’s not an or question. Channeling an inner Rustin Cohle, they will say how our interpretations of the world are all we have, and how they really are the only thing that makes the world exist as it does. How our perspective is not the perspective, but just a perspective. How if we learn to accept this—and can apply the same principle to more salient subjects like religion and politics and race—it could do a lot to help us find accord with someone experiencing a different world. How it could help us have fruitful conversation. And how really it is beautiful to have a grand assembly of people experiencing different worlds, because it diversifies an existence that would otherwise be too objective.

Someone will write this metaphor, but it’s not going to be me. I prefer to write a metaphor about the people who will write the metaphor.

The seemingly irreconcilable colors of hashtag the dress is really about them. They are the ones who are both white and gold and black and blue, even though they can’t get themselves to see the black and blue.

They are white and gold. They are pure and celestial and full of peace, like a dove. They try to point out a beauty that they assume others are too simple-minded to see. They are the transcendent voices that speak from the heavens to show us the grave error in our silly, human ways. They wish others could be as white and gold as they are, as harmonious with all of the energies of God’s creations. They wish everyone could be so driven in a quest for a beatific existence, and they assume that others don’t even know they are a part of one. With haughty words they speak down to us, the sorry subjects, with the omnipotence of a queen wearing white silk and a shimmering gold crown. They can’t be touched by the troubles of us peasants, who fight for something they know is ultimately worthless. They are white and gold, floating high above and seeing things all too clearly.

They are also black and blue. They don’t want to be black and blue, but if you try to be white and gold, you will inevitably get a few bruises. It turns out people don’t like being told how to think. They don’t like being told they are too simple, and stupid. They don’t like being told that who they are is wrong, so they fight back. They take swings at the infallible white and gold dove who flutters on high and whistles songs to them that say their concerns are fleeting, and their perspectives incomplete. The white and gold don’t realize that by trying to be a symbol of peace, they are being a catalyst of fistfights. They are doing nothing but enraging their equals by talking at them like small children.

Some people don’t realize how dangerous it can be to try to bring peace. It can easily have an effect opposite the desired. It can get people really upset if done incorrectly. Speaking form on high is not the right tactic. It’s just condescending, and people don’t like that. They get angry and punch you in the face. You have to enter the mix, enter the fight, and then maybe show someone something—when you are at their level, and show them you are not afraid to take a hit. Then they might listen.

I write a lot of things that are really white and gold. Very often I am the guy who writes the metaphor trying to point out the universal truth that I think everyone is overlooking—the one that could make this world a better place. This very post could probably be seen as one of those. It most certainly is, the more I think about it. I guess I can't help myself.

Writing makes this a safe thing to do, because it is easy to hide behind a screen and stay white and gold. I am not actually getting dirty. I am not letting anyone punch back. As a writer, one doesn't get too many actual black and blues. Maybe I should stop writing and start doing something. Maybe I’ll start some kind of campaign. Maybe I’ll join a protest. Maybe I’ll design dresses. Those things seem to get people all sorts of fired up.

On a literal note, hashtag the dress is clearly black and blue. It always has been and always will be.