Black, White, Brown....does it really matter? 

   

Ok, maybe it's just me, and maybe it's not racism, but I just read an article from The Times Online, apparently a British newspaper, that stinks like it to me.  The gist of the article, "Tiger blackened by his all-white trophy cupboard" is that Tiger, as part African American should have cheated on his wife with black women instead of white women...at least that's the way I read it.  For example:

"Woods does not consider himself African-American but “Cablinasian”, a mixture of Caucasian, black, Indian and Asian; he is none the less viewed by most people as “black”. Whether black people “should” or “shouldn’t” sleep with white people is a hot potato — I don’t mean just because of gun-toting, redneck loonies in the southern United States, but rather because of the views of intelligent, educated black people who have read their Marcus Garvey and Malcolm X. Put reductively, the idea is that if you’re going to celebrate your heritage and be proud of who you are — slave ancestry, misery, centuries of oppression and all — then you might want to get together with someone like you. Some might — and do — argue that it is a question of duty."

She goes on to say:  "What has made Woods’s story so compelling is the added frisson of race: to put it bluntly, he has stopped being viewed as a white man who happens to have black skin (“one of us”) and has hurled himself back into the pit of stereotypes so many people are still, alas, fond of: “one of them”, a black man with a varied and insatiable sexual appetite, coming into his nickname at last and making it a whole lot less cuddly."

Does it really matter what color their skin is?  Black, brown, white?  The guy was an idiot for cheating on his wife, (who by the way is hotter than his mistresses), so their skin color means nothing.  The author then when on to quote a columnist from the Washington Post:

Eugene Robinson, an African-American columnist for The Washington Post, wrote last week of “Tiger’s validation complex”.

“What’s with the whole Barbie thing?” he asked. “This may be the most interesting aspect of the whole Tiger Woods story — and one of the most disappointing. He seems to have been bent on proving to himself that he could have any woman he wanted. But from the evidence, his aim wasn’t variety but some kind of validation [. . .] “If adultery is really about the power and satisfaction of conquest, Woods’s self-esteem was apparently only boosted by bedding the kind of woman he thought other men lusted after — the ‘playmate of the month’ type that Hugh Hefner turned into the American gold standard. But the world is full of beautiful women of all colours, shapes and sizes — some with short hair or almond eyes, some with broad noses, some with yellow or brown skin. Woods appears to have bought into an ‘official’ standard of beauty that is so conventional as to be almost oppressive.”