A word on racism

Past week was United Nations day. The organise of this holiday is to celebrate our heritage, to bring conformity, to create unity among a species which finds the precise nonion difficult. It is a holiday meant to put aside differences and to reach proscribed to those next to you. To take their strains and with them lead forward into a charge where those among us can be treated as equals.That was the evidence for the hands. in that location were so many hands each a different color, paste all over the walls, the table, the pillar holding up the ceiling in the small lounge area. Each one bore a name. As I walked past, on my way to a class to which I was urgently late, I passed a table. At that table sat five or so students, each with a hand, each writing their name as well as their race upon it.Come, make a hand the misfire at the table cheerily ordered me as she passed me a snag cardboard cutout of an appendage. I shook my head.No thanks.At that I got an homophile(a) look. It was as if she were wondering, why wouldnt someone want to make one of these? She was puzzled, merely persistent. She shoved the hand toward me again and I bristled. Not the best move, but involuntary.I said I dont want to make one. I turned my shoulder. I tried my best to convey with my body language, my eyes, my tone of voice, that I would non be swayed. She frowned. Scowled almost.You must be some kind of racist. Whatever.Give me that. I grabbed at the cardboard cutout almost fiercely. I sat at the table, pulled an admixture of markers toward me, and began writing. To hell with being late to class. I didnt care anymore.It took me but seconds to coda the hand and to give it back to the girl. She frowned at me once again.This isnt what youre sayI have a right to have it up there still like everyone else.She shrugged. It seemed she sensed she had lost the argument. She took the hand and stapled it to a sheet of raunchy paper hanging on the wall. I found then, and exactly then, that I was disgusted by the whole principle.How is it, as a society, that the things that are supposed to make us the same turn out to make us different? It was that factor alone that disgusted me. Those hands were meant to bring us together, but instead they merely focused on our differences. Black. White. Hispanic. We are not color blind. We have an innate ability to separate. To label as pricy or bad the color of ones skin. On a holiday meant to epitomize unity, we were instead separating ourselves.That was the reason I made my hand different. The reason I ignored the boundaries and instead labeled the hand with something that the girl considered to be racist. The reason I chose to be equal. After all, how are we to be equal if we only focus on the things that make us unequal? It should not be the color of ones skin but the quality of that person that makes each unique.That hand said only one thing.