We're The Same.

I just watched this video, I often spend minutes upon minutes on Youtube.com, specifically the "What Would You Do"clips. There's been a few that moved me, but this one brought tears to my eyes.


The man's quote at the end, "Somos igual que ellos, tenemos la misma carne." 
"We're the same, we have the same flesh."


Where did this start? Who decided that a difference in pigment represents value?
We are people, humans. We are not a lesser species, we are not a different category.
We are human beings with the same anatomy, the same feelings, and the same abilities.


I feel like there's so many misconceptions and accepted notions that have become standard in today's society. My father took extreme risks and made tremendous sacrifices to ensure that I would be born here in the United States. He wanted me to have every opportunity and window to achieve what I wanted. 
He wanted me to be safe & be able to explore any avenue I wanted to take. 


Despite growing up in a very wealthy, very suburbanized area, I felt discriminated against. 
I can't tell you how many times I grew up listening to, 
"Mexicans are (some derogatory term/sentence/adjective). Oh, but not you. You're different."
It still hurt me. At 6 years-old, I remember wanting to get off the school bus more than anything. Even that young, I knew that something wasn't right. I could feel it. 


I've also noticed that as I've grown up, people will say obviously offensive things to me, without realizing it. They honestly believe I won't get offended. The last week I was in school before I withdrew, a boy was helping me with my Italian, (the professor had noticed that I often mixed Italian with Spanish, which is very easy to do because the languages sound so similar) I had been doing very poorly in the class, and this young man offered to help. 
I thought, 'why not'. I was so screwed in the class already, I figured it couldn't get worse. 
This guy was very "smart", he knew French, Italian, Spanish, and English fluently, and seemed very confident that he could help me get it right. 


The beginning went really well, I felt like I was starting to get it, & this guy seemed nice enough. He started telling me about what he wanted to do when he grew up and mentioned that he planned on becoming a real estate agent from home, "So that I can pick up my kids from school if I want." This being BYU, I realized this was "I'd be a great father!" in code. I blew it off with a smile, since I really just wanted to learn this freaking language. Spanish kept coming up because, as previously mentioned, it's so close to Italian. He suddenly started saying how ugly Spanish is and how much he didn't like it. 


Okay, at this point I'm thinking, 'He's joking..right? He's GOTTA BE JOKING.' I mean, I'm RIGHT THERE. He's telling ME how terrible Spanish is, my native tongue. When I realized that there was actually zero humor in his remark, I tried to defuse the growing anxiety I began to feel by saying, "But if you're going to be working in real estate, you'll have to learn Spanish, that's what most of your clients will speak." (flash smile) and he responds with, "Ha-ha, oh no, I'm only planning on working with real Americans."


I literally have never felt myself shake with fury. It took everything I had to not get up & walk off in tears. It got even better when I remarked, "Real Americans? So..did you learn Navajo? Because the only "real" Americans are the Native Americans." (In all actuality, "America" starts in Canada and ends in Brazil, but if I explained that to this close-minded little man, he probably would've punched me right in the face). He started arguing with me, all while getting back up from an RM (from, Oh! Italy! Of course) making me feel about one inch tall. 


I am Mexidorian-American. I am half-Mexican, half-Salvadorean. I was born in Provo, Utah. I am JUST AS AMERICAN as the people whose great-grandparents migrated from England/Ireland/WHATEVER 100 years ago. 


I do NOT understand why people feel like they can tell ME things about MY PEOPLE and think I won't get offended. 


I can still remember the moment I realized, NO. I AM NOT BETTER. I AM THEM. AND THEY ARE ME. THEY ARE MY PEOPLE. There is NOTHING that separates them from me. I may have made different choices, different lifestyle habits, maybe even morals, BUT WE ARE THE SAME. 
True then, the fact that we, Mexicans, are the same as Caucasians, or Asians, or whatever other name different races have for themselves. 


We have to make a change in this world. It's up to us, because unfortunately, that man is going to grow up, get married, and raise his kids to have the same ignorant mind-set about people. We need to realize our err and fix it, NOW. My dad used to say "We just need to wait for those people to die out." in reference to the older people who were just as racist as they were cute. They didn't know any different, and at 89 years old, it's a little hard to change their alzheimer-ridden mind. 
But our blossoming generation, it has hope. Imagine a world where people don't see color? My aunt was telling me how she walked into a wedding with my uncle the other day and feeling a bit out of place said, "We're the only white people here." My uncle is my mother's brother. They were born in Veracruz. He whispered back, "I'm not white." She was so used to seeing him as an equal, she forgot his skin color. 


Ohhhh my goodness, I haven't raged and ranted like this in a while, but it feels good. We've got to do something. It can't stay like this. 

Where?

Where can I turn for peace,
Where is my solace when other sources cease to make me whole?
When with a wounded heart, anger, or malice,
I draw myself apart, searching my soul.
Where, when my aching grows,
Where when I languish,
Where, in my need to know, where can I run?
Where is the quiet hand to calm my anguish?
Who, who can understand
He, only One.

He answers privately,
Reaches my reaching,
In my Gethsemane,
Savior and Friend
Gentle the peace he finds
for my beseeching.
Constant he is and kind
Love without end


I had the best Sunday yesterday. I felt the Spirit so strongly, I think it's this environment. 
I feel like the Church in Utah is so much less relatable because the people are more concerned with what they're wearing & who they're dating & other irrelevant stuff. Here, the cute little single's ward has like 45 members. & they come to church because they want to. 
(Although, I would NOT mind dating the gospel doctrine teacher, heee heee heeeee)


I'm happy. 

A BIG Something.

I'm doing a BIG something in my life.

It's something that (this is going to sound so familiar, like 3 posts down-familiar)

I've been wanting to do for a while. There was always some reason about why I couldn't do it,

whether it be school, or family, or waiting on someone/something (dumb).

But the timing is perfect. Literally, couldn't be more ideal, and I'm doing it.

I was going to do a different big thing, just as big, maybe bigger, but a lot risker, but I decided against it.

There's a certain type of girl that can do certain types of things. Some girls can live with males who aren't gay and not worry about the possibility of an awkward advance resulting in an instant shut down. I am not one of those girls.

But I'm realizing that "this life is all we have". I know how superbly retarded that sounds when said aloud, but it's so very true. This BIG thing has been in the depths of my mind for years now, but it started coming to light following a "The Buried Life" marathon.

Yes, yes, I know what you are thinking, "MTV!?" But those boys, despite how rambuncious and hormonal they may be, are living. We all watch, and "ooooh" and "ahhhh", but why are we sitting the a basement of a Saturday night watching other people be happy?

WHY CAN'T WE BE HAPPY?

I decided we can. & I can. So I will.

I feel like nature agrees with me, the leaves are changing colors, likewise, it's high time I change environments.