Martin Luther King had a dream that one day, his children would be judged not by physical characteristics over which they had no control, but by the content of their character. That dream was, for all intents and purposes, realized, then Barack Obama became president, and the long downward slide toward racial conflict and favoring physical characteristics, sexual deviation and politically correct philosophies over character, ability and accomplishment began, leading to inevitable consequences, one of which is having the right kind of nipples.
This article will be brief, gentle readers. I absolutely want to hear your thoughts. But first, the essential, late 2020 question: How crazy have things become? This crazy:
That’s right, we’re now judging people—apparently only women–by the color of their nipples. One must assume areolas are also implicated. One must also assume that anyone that does not absolutely eschew pink nipples—pink nipple privilege?—in favor of “nipples of color”—I assume that must be the correct terminology—is racist and surely sexist too. Might we also assume that as a Black, Indian American of color, Kamala Harris might soon be the first female president with nipples of color? Will having nipples of color hereafter be an essential qualification for female office holders?
It will not, I’m sure, be a surprise to learn that I, a privileged white male, like women. I appreciate beauty in all its forms, so I appreciate women of all colors, shapes and sizes, and that appreciation extends to breasts generally, and areolas and nipples of all shades. Yet, as racist as I surely am, I can only believe all nipples matter. I expect, any day now, to be accosted in a restaurant—we’re still Americans in Wyoming and get to patronize restaurants—and ruthlessly harried until I am forced to get a nipple erection and shout “BROWN NIPPLES MATTER!” at the top of my lungs.
For men, such things, particularly when young, are rather simplistic. We are, after all, relatively simple creatures with simple, if sometimes overwhelming, desires. Young men tend to embrace idealized female characteristics, preferring specific hair color, eye color, size and shape of breasts, legs, etc. If men gain wisdom with age, their ideals transmogrify and they come to understand such characteristics matter far, far less than a sense of humor, intelligence, reliability, kindness, grace, wit, and the devotion of a woman that will love them regardless of their failings. They tend to love their physical characteristics because they’re part and parcel of the woman they love. This makes life much more satisfying for everyone.
I, for example, have always been fond of thick, dark hair and dark brown eyes. This is why I married a woman with fine blonde hair and startlingly blue eyes. As for the rest of her, why would any particular shade of nipple matter? I’m decades beyond that kind of concern, so ALL NIPPLES MATTER!
There. I said it. Odd that in the near future, that may become an issue. Actually, I guess it already has. We are absolutely living in Heinlein’s crazy years.
I’ll end by paraphrasing Patrick Henry: I know not what course others may take, but as for me, give me nipples of all glorious colors, or give me—uh, nipples of all glorious colors!