Can a single melody repaint the world? In “Couleur,” French singer Zazie grabs a box of linguistic crayons and writes a playful yet powerful manifesto against racism. She toys with the French homophones gêne (embarrassment) and gènes (genes) to say, “In my genes, nothing bothers me… I can be brunette or blonde, everyone loves me.” The idea is simple: our DNA doesn’t decree superiority or inferiority. Yet when society looks at skin rather than soul, the same streets that welcome some can become deadly for others. Zazie’s lyrics jump from childhood games of cowboys and “Indians” to chilling name-checks of George Floyd and Jacob Blake, reminding us that real bullets and real hatred still stain the pavement.
Despite the darkness, the song bursts with hope. Zazie declares herself “noire, blanche… de la couleur de l’espoir”—black, white, and the color of hope all at once. She waves a personal flag painted with every shade, insisting that music can still “soften our manners.” “Couleur” is therefore both a lament and a luminous call-to-action: drop the prejudice, crank up the volume, and let every hue shine on. Is that clear? She asks—and then answers with a resounding, melodic yes.