I Don’t See Colour, but Stevie Wonder Can


The adage “I don’t see colour” has gained traction in the past few years in an attempt to diffuse racial tensions. However, for civil rights activist and famed musician Stevie Wonder that statement has a very different meaning, or does it?

Wonder, according to mainstream (read: liberal) media sources was born 6 weeks premature which, alongside the oxygen-rich atmosphere in the hospital incubator, resulted in retinopathy of prematurity, a condition in which the retinas detach from the eyes, causing blindness.

The rest of his alleged story is a heartwarming one, and today he is regarded as the voice of a generation. A blind man who saw his way to the top of the pinnacle of music. Unfortunately though, his blindness is about as real as the superstitions that he sings about.

This view is corroborated by Boy George, who, in an interview, tells the story about Wonder having come up to him at a party and playfully strangling him. This sounds benign enough, until you realize, as George did “how could he know where I was if he’s completely blind?”

Further damning evidence is provided by famed ESPN commentator: Bomani Jones. Who, in a contentious 20 minute youtube series talks about an interaction that he had with Wonder in which he let slip that he had bought “Three Flat Screened Televisions”.  

This fails to mention Wonder’s presence at NBA basketball games, where he is always seated courtside, following along with the action. How he wears watches. Takes pictures. Or the now infamous video of him catching a mic stand, clumsily knocked down by Paul McCartney (google it).

As for his motivation for this deceit? Well, there are several theories. Some of the more compelling ones being; his love for dark tinted glasses, him needing an excuse to always be with his dog, and the Clinton’s. The most compelling theory, and the one which I believe in is his terrible coordination.

This may sound ridiculous at first, but put yourself in his shoes. Constantly breaking things, being picked last in sports and facing general ridicule, pretending to be blind may not seem too bad. Not to mention the renown that he gains. Afterall, a blind performer is unique, whereas an uncoordinated one is just that, uncoordinated.

This lack of coordination also helps to explain his love of basketball. These players represent the Ubermensch to Wonder’s Nietzschean framework of the world. They have the athletic prowess that he’d always wished he’d had. He fills part of this void in his weekly trashing of the local blind soccer team, perhaps trying to earn the posthumous love and respect that his dad never provided him, but it’s never enough. It will never be enough.