“How would you describe color to a blind person?”
I, like most people, used to be baffled by this question. Whenever somebody would pose it, I would find myself stuck; how could you possibly describe something visual to someone who cannot perceive visual things? Recently, there’s been a revival of a classic debate: what colors are the core school subjects? People online are expressing very strong feelings about this, arguing passionately about why the colors they associate with English, math, history, and science are the most accurate representation of the subjects. This really inspired me to explore my own perception of color and the kind of people, actions, concepts, and feelings I associate certain colors with, so today, I’m going to try to articulate these thoughts to you.
Red – Red is often perceived as being flashy, expensive, and powerful, but more than anything else, it is bold. It reminds you of the girl in your politics class; she usually does not speak unless spoken to, but she never hesitates when defending her beliefs. Despite its ability to blend in, red will never fail to catch your eye and captivate you. Red is the way you feel when you’re wearing heels and walking across an echoing concrete floor. Red is the climax of your favorite story; the intense final battle, the emotional profession of love, the narrow escape from death. Red is the stinging feeling in your throat when you begin to raise your voice during an argument where you allowed your confidence devolve into arrogance. It is the twist in your gut you feel when someone you’re competing against gains the upper-hand by outsmarting you. Red is your head spinning while you are both holding and being held by someone you love. It is the feeling of blood rushing to your face after you trip over your own feet while walking to class. Red is English, structured and consistent but never too exact or restrictive. It has standards that must be met, but your creativity is never unfairly restricted.
Orange – Orange is loud, like the obnoxious girl at lunch whose excessive storytelling you cannot help but enjoying, because well, this one time… You will always recognize this color when it is in the room, but it is not always pleasing to the eyes. It feels like the carpeted floor of your parents’ vehicle; specifically, it feels the way it does when you hop into the front seat after a long day of school. Orange is the falling action of a story where the main character does not necessarily succeed in the way they wanted to, but they do realize something important about themselves or the situation they’re involved in. Orange is the feeling of taking off a pair of glasses that are a little too tight for your face. It is the ache of your muscles after an intense work out. It is the sensation that travels through your body when you smell the scent of your favorite candle for the first time in a while. It is the feeling in your stomach when you start to realize you’re talking too much. It is the warmth that floods your body when you read a poem you really connect with. Orange is Spanish, complex and even tiring at times but ultimately rewarding. It is a subject where the new material builds from things you’ve already learned, so things need time to develop in order for you get back what you have been putting in.
Yellow – Yellow is soft-spoken but still expressive. It is the person who sits near your friend group during lunch who you have to strain to hear, so you focus on the way they talk with their hands when they tell you about their day. You only see yellow when you’re looking for it, even if it is subconsciously, but when you do, it makes you feel bright. Yellow might feel like the satisfying ending to a story you truly enjoyed, but more often, it does not feel like part of the story at all—yellow feels like the characters you grew to love while reading it. Yellow feels like the soft, cotton blanket that covers overgrown grass you and your best friend are sitting on while you are having a picnic. Yellow is your heart swelling in your chest when your favorite person laughs at the joke you tell them. It is the smile that forms on your face when you get a notification saying your comfort streamer is going live. Yellow is the excitement you experience when you find a piece of clothing at a thrift store that you immediately fall in love with. It is that glowing feeling of acceptance when your pet comes into your room without being prompted or called to do so. Yellow is health, mostly because it encourages you to take care of yourself and partially because that was the color of the textbook provided to us in eighth grade.
Green – Green is calm and informal, like the boy who sits near you in art class; he jokes around with his friends during the lesson, but somehow still knows what to do when it is time to do work. He speaks to you sometimes and you usually get nervous, because without your friends, you feel out of place in that class, but he never seems to notice. Green hides in plain sight; you see it everywhere, so most of the time it goes underappreciated. However, when you take a moment to absorb it, you feel almost reassured in a strange way. Green is the beginning, middle, and end of a coming-of-age novel; green is a constant that remains intact throughout the story, rather than something that is introduced or removed at certain points, like a characteristic the narrator never shakes, an article of clothing the archetypal sidekick always wears, or a phrase an authority figure in the protagonist’s life always uses. Many different things come to mind when thinking about what green feels like; an immediate thought is the natural ground—the way the grassy backyard of your grandparents’ house felt under your feet while you ran around barefoot, lost in your own imagination. Green is the feeling of pride and satisfaction you experience when you nurture the houseplants your parents have been neglecting. Green is the queasy feeling in your stomach when you have to give a presentation in your social studies class. Green is the release of endorphins you get while playing your favorite sport in the burning sun. Green is science, overwhelmingly vast and complicated but still consistent and reliable. It can provide an explanation for the seemingly unknown things in life that scare and perplex us.
Blue – Blue is straight-forward, yet comforting; it is exact, yet delicate. Blue is your friend who excels at everything, even though they are unwilling to admit they are above average in any capacity. They are always just a little better than you at sports and score a few points higher than you on tests, but they never emphasize these small differences to you or to themselves. Everyone likes blue; when you enter a room, it is always somewhere, whether as an article of clothing someone wears, a wall decoration, or even the color of the furniture. Blue is the satisfying rhythm of a lyrical poem you really enjoy, or the point in a story where the protagonist comes to terms with something which they do not have the power to change. Blue feels soft, like the pillows of your bed after a long day at work; it feels like the straps of your backpack when you anxiously tug at them while walking to your least favorite class. Blue is the familiar way your headphones rest on your head and it is also the way your demeanor changes when that song starts to blare from those headphones. It is the goosebumps that rise on your skin when you are sitting in a waiting room, not really recognizing where you are or who you’re seeing, because all you know that you told your parent you throat hurts and they took you here. Blue is math, where problems have one clear, inarguable answer. Although it can be frustrating not now know how to find that answer, you can always find satisfaction in putting forth the effort required to discover it.
Purple – Purple is demanding and alluring; it reminds you of that one girl you were friends with in elementary school. You know the type: kind of mean and always has to be in charge, but fiercely loyal, almost to a fault. You respect her for those qualities now, but when you were young, you spent much of your time together wondering what would happen if you yanked on that ponytail she always wore. Purple is the introduction of the antagonist of a fantasy novel, who is usually the brooding, misunderstood classmate of the main character. Purple feels like velvet, or whatever material that one shirt you have that makes you feel like a witch is made of. Purple is the suppressed sense of superiority you feel when your work is used as an example in your language arts class, something you would never outwardly express but relish in the feeling of. It is the confidence that floods your mind when someone compliments the new lipstick shade you were trying—you weren’t really sure if it was your shade. Purple is social studies; it might seem repetitive and uninteresting on the surface, but we all have that one era of history we are secretly fascinated by.