Never Judge A Book By It's Cover
Imagine, for a moment, that you are at a dinner party.
The politely hushed roars and frequent outbursts of laughter are strong together with the sound of many light-hearted conversations happening simultaneously.
Silverware chimes on porcelain plates.
The lights are dimmed to a brightness just a bit more brilliant than the few candles placed in a neat row, running the length of the table at which you are seated.
This meal is a banquet and the many varieties of fruit, fresh and baked into tarts and frozen in ice cream, come in exotic colors and decadent number. They are but a small taste of what you will consume.
You ask your neighbor to pass a particularly juicy fresh fruit covered almost entirely in cream. The mood is light. The light seems to dance from one happy face to another.
You are not presently engaged in conversation, so, you bite, savoring every moment, into your fruit, the juice of which immediately spills forth into your mouth, onto your lips. A trickle drips from the left side of your mouth and onto your chin. You scramble to dab it away with your napkin.
Your eyes dilate. Your heart suddenly flutters in your chest. Your hands go numb and begin to sweat. Your tongue tingles.
SOMETHING IS WRONG
You can’t move or cry out.
You close your eyes and pray you awake in a hospital. The blackness feels like a disconnected eternity. It isn’t.
You open your eyes. And you are somehow still seated at your dinner party. The smell of tropical fruit is strong.
You notice at once that something has shifted in your perception. Some of the discourse seems threatening now. Insidious in tone. The laughter has an echo of chackles. The faces no longer dance with the flickers of candlelight. Some seem far away but on bodies that are too near. Are you looking out of a funhouse mirror? You know right away: you have been poisoned.
“Never judge a book by its cover” That is an adage as old as the sound of the wind blowing through trees. Maybe we have always said it in some ancient language. And we still do!
Sometimes we say it about a neighborhood or an aesthetically displeasing but very dependable car. Sometimes we say it about each other. We say this as if to warn against unfair judgments based upon an appearance that might lead one to fear or be caution.
“Despite the outside, the inside is good”: This is what we seem to be saying.
But what does that mean in the context of judging a person?
Does it mean that despite a man having a tall and muscular stature with tattoos (and clothes of someone no one would confuse for a businessman) that person is a family man, upstanding and charitable citizen?
Does it mean that despite a woman wearing form-fitting clothing she is a devote Christian?
Does it mean that despite a person with dark skin, or a flat nose, or tightly curled hair (or all three) can be kind and good and just like everyone else?
Truly, if that’s what it means, then it is dehumanizing.
You see, when we say, “Never judge a book by its cover”, we are silently conceding a point: yes, this cover signifies something bad but inside is something good. This muscle-bound man is an immediate threat by all appearances, you’re right to fear the outside.
That is what the adage would have you believe. But it would caution, that MAYBE some good MIGHT be inside. The judgment of this woman as less respectable based upon her appearance is fair; but isn’t she’s acceptable. This Black person is black… but forgivably so due to their great character.
In each instance this way of thinking is dehumanizing. It is justifying discriminating and stereotyping people based upon our own perception.
It even elevates our perception as inherently right. Of course, this person LOOKS undesirable, it seems to say. But, supposed, they aren’t. The focus of the dialogue is on the person being judged.
Rather, the judger is immediately conceded the point that their judgment of an appearance is right and fair. The adage only considers that the unseen might pass this test of desirability.
Well, I am Woman and I am Black.
And my Blackness is not the problem. The perception of those poisoned by years of living in a culture that assigns negative traits to Blackness is the problem.
If I woke tomorrow with blue skin, those who are prejudiced would still look at the world through the eyes of someone with poison in their veins. They’d still be unable to see the differences in Black faces or be unable to empathize with pain others feel.
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The faces of others would not seem so far away. They would not seem menacing with limbs very close and poised to strike.
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However, if injected with the antidote to their poison, my Blackness would no longer be an issue.
"It is not my cover that must be disregarded, or deemed forgivable based upon the character found in my pages. It is the perception of those who feel justified in judging with perception of a poisoned eye."
You struggle through the dinner party. Nausea set in ten minutes after your poisoning. It has not subsided. The acrid taste in the back of your throat and dizziness are getting to you. You call for a taxi to take you to the nearest hospital. When you enter through the doors, you immediately surrender to the loss of consciousness. Maybe you wanted to do this before. Now with medical care available, it seems much safer.
You awake on bleached white sheets with a young man staring down at you. It is hard to look at him. His head seems to be on the other side of a football field, his hands seem so close you could smell the antibacterial sanitizer under his short nails.
“Good news.” He says as you try to focus on the wall behind him.
“You were poisoned but you’ll be okay.
This poison is very common. We don’t have an antidote yet, but that is okay. This is not life threatening. Tomorrow your nausea will go away. Most of the others symptoms, too. Only two will stay: your head will continue to look very small as if everyone sees you from a great distance; and, your arms and hands will remain permanently enlarged and swollen.
No, no, don’t cry. This is not life threatening.”