Messy Respect
It is said that life requires some organization, even if your organization does not make sense to anyone else in the world including yourself. The who are you question has always proved difficult for me to answer, as I still have not completely found myself. One thing I do know about myself is that I am so disorganized that even my English papers show it. Just as my clothes pile up in my closet, my words pile up on the page.
My full name reads Baylie Madison Peter, but most people call me Bay or even Billy Madison. I come from a rural community of less than eight thousand people, in which no strangers exist. Coming from a such a small town forced me to communicate with people that were culturally very similar to me. My friends and I worked hard in school, played sports, joined many clubs, and went to church on Sundays. I kept up with a busy routine that I thought would never end. High school graduation approached quicker than I ever imagined, and I refused to let go of my “perfect” little bubble.
To this
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In my entire high school, there was one full African American student maybe. In my church, there were straight white families that did not stray from the Lutheran norms. In my town, there were actually quite a few Japanese, but that was only because there was a manufacturing company that brought them to our area.
One thing I do understand is that I come from America, a giant melting pot. “American” is not a single race. We all came over to this country, just not at the same time. There is nothing golden about being a white European male. There is also nothing golden about being a lesbian black woman. As Americans, we do not have an edge over one another simply because of our race, nationality, sexuality, or gender. We need to have respect for any person’s identity and stop labeling these identities. We need to remember that we are one with America and one with our