Give me a turned-up nose, freckles, red or blonde hair, green, blue, or grey eyes, and I'm sold. My heart skips a beat for anything that looks like it was baked under an old Dutch summer. A little sun, wind, and plenty of light, please. A classic man, yes. My friends tease me: "The more Aryan, the better for you." Honestly? Maybe they are right.

By Dina-Perla Portnaar
I also enjoy being around fair-haired girlfriends. Blondes who remain stunning no matter what. Even if they were wearing a trash bag. Even with greasy hair or being exhausted. That's what I call natural beauty. The lighter version of myself. Like a blonde Jewish friend of mine. It's impossible for her not to be beautiful. Even sick or stressed, she radiates.

But apparently, liking blondes is wrong. Not a simple matter of taste or a case of opposites attract. Want to call it my fetish? Fine. Go for it. But these days, you're expected—almost compulsively—to fall for someone like Lenny Kravitz (what an artist and human being, by the way). Or LeBron James. Billy Porter. Doja Cat. And so on. Random examples, but you get my point. Being white is criminal. Fascist, even. 

Because if I find a woman like Sydney Sweeney beautiful, I'm a walking archive of eugenics. Her cleavage? Nazi propaganda. Her jeans? Genetic imperialism. Significant genes or jeans? Who's to say? How dare she! Just to be clear: she got dragged for a commercial. Watch it and judge for yourself.

Interpreting every pixel as racial subtext
The world has gone completely mad. How did we end up here, hypersensitive to anything blonde and white? The moment a beautiful white woman appears on screen (and knows it), a hysterical choir erupts, interpreting every pixel as racial subtext. It's completely unhinged. Whiteness itself is taboo. It distracts from honest, meaningful conversations.

Like privilege, but you can't have that conversation with a blonde if the discussion starts by treating her like a villain. Like I did this year with someone at work: how he moves through the world, the chances he gets, are indeed different from mine. He's not guilty of that. But he can choose to act with awareness.

My main frustration is that we've entered a cultural state I'd call, borrowing from the obscure German philosopher Ernst Möglitz, aesthetic inversion: the moral suspicion of beauty based on who wears it. Not what you are in terms of intentions, attitude, or behaviour.

But who represents your aesthetic determines your worth. Möglitz, who once debated himself in a Viennese café in the 1930s, wrote: "Power does not seek to abolish beauty, but to redistribute it." That's exactly what's happening now.

Of course, I know beauty standards are cultural. Yes, they've long been unjust; exclusive even. But do we need to act as if every blonde is a political statement? As if there's something inherently wrong with being white? As if a pretty face with light eyes is an attack on inclusivity?

Racism is racism, even when directed at white people
I mentioned my blonde Jewish friend. She's living proof that beauty has nothing to do with the creepy symbolism critics try to project onto it. Yes, there are plenty of blonde Jews. Or redheaded ones. Like my other friend. Aryan Jews. I'm being ironic...

But still, if she appeared on a billboard and people didn't know her background, the same crowd would probably shout in unison that she's problematic. Well, if it were for those jeans, anyway. She was featured on a billboard recently for something meaningful.

We've lost our way. Racism is racism, even when directed at white people. Inclusivity includes our blondes. Sexualization isn't just wrong when it happens to women of colour. Beauty isn't suspicious, unless you've decided that certain bodies are ideologically contaminated. This is what's happening here, stemming from unresolved historical pain.

Generational trauma projected onto the present. Turning descendants of oppressors into today's culprits, as if that will fix the past. A new cycle. Completely out of balance.

If we're not careful, we'll tumble into a cultural ravine where progress and true inclusion are delayed. We end up causing more harm. Precisely the sort of thing Albert Camus called 'the beastly condition of man'. If we stay stuck in the past, we can't address the new pain of the present. Or move forward with resilience.

People are growing tired of imbalance and nonsense
Not every pair of breasts is propaganda. Not every white woman with blue eyes is a Hitler salute in denim. And not every preference is political. Sometimes, a pair of jeans is just a piece of clothing. A commercial is just an ad. And a blonde? Simply irresistible. Or maybe just a personal reminder: time to go running again. I won't get Sydney Sweeney's perfect legs, but she inspires me to try.

You know what's sad? People are growing tired of imbalance and nonsense, so of toxic woke. So they start swinging to the other extreme. As the blonde, Jewish, lesbian endo-warrior Jillian Michaels says, Pride Month has been hijacked.

Or as comedian Hannah Gadsby, one of the most brilliant minds of our time (and autistic), says in her Netflix show Nanette:

"Where are the quiet gays supposed to go? [...] The pressure on my people to express our identity and pride through the metaphor of the party is very intense. Don't get me wrong, I love the spectacle, but I've never felt compelled to get amongst it. I'm a quiet soul. My favourite sound is the sound of a teacup finding its place on a saucer.

Very difficult to flaunt that lifestyle in a parade... I don't even like the flag. Controversial! But there, I've said it. I love what the Pride flag means. That is perfect. Pride. Wonderful. But the flag itself? A bit busy. Six very shouty, assertive colours stacked on top of each other, no rest for the eye. After an afternoon of that waving in my face, I need to express my identity through the metaphor of a nap."

This breeds absolute intolerance. 

In short, if you're into Lenny Kravitz, no worries. Your next commercial is coming. That's how it works. At least, if the brand's marketing team knows what they're doing. Meanwhile, calm down. 

You're being paranoid. 

Dina-Perla Portnaar is an Amsterdam-based writer, public speaker, and advisor working at the intersection of ethics, storytelling, and critical thinking. Find more of her here.