I had never considered myself a racist. When I was kid, my parents helped me send the coins in my piggy bank to Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.’s work. And I have family members who are African-Americans and Latinos. So I thought I was good. I got my first hard look at my blindness when I took Greek from an African-American professor. He told us that racism was not a white problem; it was a sin problem. He gave international examples of darker and lighter groups hating each other. Afterward, I said I wanted to be color-blind, and he stopped me. “You need to see the color,” he said. “God…