The only equal feature about us all is that we are all different. I can recall at this very moment just some of the various times my classmates have called me, or others “weird.” I always use the same answer: define “normal.” In years BC, a religion that promoted every human getting the same fair treatment was established. It sounds easy to say it now because we are all fair and reasonable to the standards of our community. Nevertheless, I wonder how many people actually think at their standards without fearing being called weird or getting made fun of. I would like to know how many of us wake up and think of the injustice surrounding our box. Happy would I be if I could say I realized this just by devoting myself to a religion or talking about it with someone, but it was a little harder to take notice of it.
Unfortunately, people tend to perceive certain inopportune behaviors when something shocking or horrific happens. These moments usually shape our life, they make us understand things that we would have never thought of, they define who our friends are and the way we perceive life. I have to say I am “one of the bunch” who had to undergo such intense chain of events to be able to appreciate equality. My mom, who comes from a strongly feminine background, with well planted roots in the soil of equality has been teaching me about fairness and respect for others since before I could understand the depth of the words themselves.
Being a minority inside of a minority was not the ideal life I had planned when I thought of my high school career as I daydreamt through the elementary days; when everything was easier. However, I will not say I had no choice and I had to come to this country obligated, and I want no pity from surprised locals that find out I came here “barely in 2003” and “learned English so quickly.” Thus I will not take the hostility of those who are sure of that I am not what they learned normal is, I will just let their words encircle me, let them make me stronger and learn how not to approach people. I am still grateful for those who make me see how “abnormal” people seem to think I am, it only gives more meaning to my thesis, because when I lived in Uruguay I was one of the popular girls, not just a nerd from a little South American country.
It is upsetting to think of all these eighth grade days of sitting on the couch and asking the tears that rolled down my cheeks all these questions they could not answer, because they came from my inexperienced third-world country equal mind. The answers were indeed inside me, and all around. Eventually I understood how to change my point of view over and over, until I looked into the mirror and saw someone that was not happy with herself, I saw a girl that had become like the rest. My standards lowered to what everyone else thought I was and the thought of not being me made me feel safe. What I did not know is that I was still trying to find myself, and probably I still am.
Time made me get away from my roots, get closer to who I thought I wanted to be. I started using these powerful foreign words, words from other mouths such as “hate” and “pretty” thinking of certain people. I replaced the word responsibility by the charged word guilt. I was envious of a girl that had come just like me from the same distant land at the same complex age, but I was sure not ready for my lesson. My parents were really good friends with her parents, but my blinding envy did not let me see beyond the revulsion I felt for her. One day my parents came up to me and spit .
