Get the skinny on colorblindness


Reading maps and doing science experiments shouldn’t be so hard for the average Joe, unless Joe is colorblind.

When people find out that I’m colorblind, it’s like opening Pandora’s box.

I get hit with a slew of questions and observations, mostly false, in which each person suddenly becomes an expert on the hereditary disorder.

I promise you, though, it’s not the first time you’ve told me I can’t fly airplanes.

The term “colorblindness” does not, in fact, imply that I can only see in black and white. Sure, that’s a form of colorblindness, but it’s extremely rare.

Mostly, people are either red-green or blue-yellow colorblind.

Again, that does not mean that we can’t see red, green or blue. Rather, it means we can’t differentiate between certain shades of those colors.

Also, don’t compare me to a dog. I don’t know how dogs see, but I assure you I can see just fine.

When it comes to dreaming, yes, I dream in color. Not so sure about the black-and-white forms of colorblindness, though I’ve always wondered.

And heaven forbid, don’t play the “what color is this?” game because I’ll probably win. At least don’t pick out the most reddest of apples, or the greenest of grass, because that’s a dumb move.

Don’t be surprised if I argue with you, too. If you tell me I’m wrong about identifying the color of an object, I will still protest that I’m right, even though I’m the colorblind one.

And yes, I’m aware that women are rarely impacted by colorblindness because it’s normally a recessive gene that’s carried by women. So, you’re not the first person to tell me that.

So, future lab partners and geography classmates, I’m apologizing in advance because I’ll probably shrug a lot of the color-related work off on you.