In Atlanta, which I believe is in Georgia, Asian-American activists are pissed that the city has re-named the train route within its Asian community the "Yellow Line." They maintain "yellow" carries a negative connotation among Asians and want officials to change the name to "gold."
We went to the color "yellow" for comment, but as you know, it cannot speak for yellow is a color. It has no feelings, thoughts or pulse. It is incapable of racism, because it's incapable of anything, other than being yellow. I suspect, like other colors used to describe train lines (blue, red, green), it's simply serves as navigation, without intent to offend.
But let's ponder the word yellow. It also means "cowardly" and therefore can insult everyone. It's also the shade of bananas, cabs and phone books. I hate bananas, cabs and phone books, but I still don't hate the color.
I really hate Coldplay — their song "Yellow" makes me violently ill — but I still don't hate the color. I just hate Chris Martin and he's not even yellow. He's more asparagus green.
My point is: I'm a grown-up. When a producer accuses me of being "short" to a guest, I know they're not referring to my height and I'm practically a midget. Yet, if I get on my tippy-toes, I can see the difference.
So I say to you, Center for Pan Asian Community Service, lighten up. I get the sensitivity over the racial nature of "yellow," but you're better than that. Accusing city planners of bigotry over a color makes you look silly. You can argue until you're blue in the face, turn red with rage, but in the end, yellow is just a color; like fuchsia — just not as awesome.
And if you disagree with me, then you're probably Gwyneth Paltrow.