Diversity

When I walked through the halls of my high school, diversity radiated about me. Though our colors were green and gold, faces of olive, ebony, and cream made their ways to classes. Some would wear the brightly colored garments of their cultures. The girls would wear jewel-encrusted hijabs on their heads and sandals on their feet, which seemed to disappear behind the curtains of fabric that draped over their conspicuous frames. Then others, appeared to have assimilated. Any connection to the parents' native cultures was as far away as their home nations. The wear red, white, and blue shirts that scream "American Eagle" but the tags on their collars still whispered "Made in Vietnam." Even now, in this new college environment, the presence of other nationalities has become the norm. My best friends are Jamaican, Kurdish, Vietnamese, Mexican and bi-racial. Being the only "African-American" in the group, not to mention the only one of a darker complexion, often merits several odd stares when we hang out in public. Whether on campus or off, people often seem to look and wonder, "How do they know each other?!" In a nation that is supposedly embracing diversity, I often wonder is this really the case? When I cannot walk with my best guy friend that happens to be Vietnamese without people making comments about a "Blasian" couple, it begins to seriously concern me. It maybe meant as a joke but the truth is underlying.