I’m light skinned, pale, or even sometimes called ghostly, but typically called white. Is “white” an ethnicity though? Is “white” a country? White is not even a color but a pigment, and certainly not an ethnicity. I am not white; I am of Northeastern European descent on my mother’s side, and Eastern European descent from my father’s family. My skin is pale, but I am not white. I am a human, not a pigment, nor a religion, or just a gender and as far as being racist, I’m color blind. My friends are human too, not black, brown, or yellow, just human.
Crayons have millions of shades, light to dark, but together they reside in the same box. Similarly, we
all have to live together in this multiethnic world, and if we work together, we can make beautiful rainbows.

New York is known as a demographic melting pot, so one would think the bright flames of equality would humble and soothe the souls who have once been on the wrong side of a gun called racism. I had thought so but, soon realized I was wrong. I didn’t think I was wrong, but unless you stare into the barrel of said gun, you won’t ever feel the smoke coming from it. The city I’m in holds guns, but I never imagined students, mere children armed with verbal ammunition like “papi” and “spic” and “n*****.” Verbal shootings happen every day, but if confidence falls in a crowded classroom, does it make a sound? Living on the North shore of Long Island where the open waters are close enough to smell from my classroom window compelled me to compare the sea, with fish of all colors, swimming along in a school of their own to my world. Diversity is abundant, students from
all over the world are blended together into one force. It seems, though, that even in one school, in
one town, in one city, shots are still fired with no rhyme or reason. We are all equal under our school’s
rules and guidelines, every standard is made fair to all, but we still find ourselves fighting against one another. I hadn’t noticed this until recently, for my friends are a very mixed group, but when looking at
the big picture, my eyes suddenly were forced wide open. Racial slurs thrown down left and right as tempers rise, everyone so eager to say they’re right that they never take the time to explain just how wrong the others are. Instead of saying that they are more than the names they are being called, students instead fight fire with more fire, and my school is slowly going up in flames. To the naked eye, it makes no sense, though when one’s vision is blurred with the greenest envy or the most violent red tint, everything changes. It is human nature to want to defend one’s self, but it is how you do it that shows who you really are. Whether you scream and shout, or rationalize and explain, the fight to be heard and understood is real. That’s what everyone really wants in the end, to be heard, to bring attention to oneself, to have people notice and care about what they say and do, whether it is good or bad.

I, too, have been bullied because of my ethnicity, though many would say that’s impossible
due to the milky color of my skin. Bigotry bleeds into more than just skin color spilling blood onto
gender and religion. I was segregated from the rest of my tiny private school. Ruthless children
tormented me for little over half my life, finding every tiny thing to abuse me with. Jokes and disparagingreferences were made daily, and taunts about how I “wasn’t a girl.” To them I didn’t
conform to the stereotypical female obsession with pink. I was made to feel strange because pink was
not my favorite color and I wasn’t a fan of tiny skirts. All these personal preferences were bandied
about in relentless rhymes and yells. Were those things, my gender and religion, really “reasons” at
all to do what they did? Is someone defined by what god or gods they pray to, or if they pray at all? How
about the way they dress, or talk, or walk? How could anyone ever judge someone on something
they can’t control like race or family members?

These are not “reasons.” They are excuses to fire shots in the dark, blindly to whom or what they
harm. While I am not on either end of the gun anymore, the sound of flying bullets haunts me to this day.

My collective experiences have led me to empathize with those hunted in high school. The
fact that bullying still happens over such petty things is absolutely appalling, and it has a domino effect. People who are bullied go on to bully others, who then go on to bully as well. Will this cycle ever end? If this is not stopped today, the future of society could be brutal. Who knows when or if it will end, or how much it will take to end it if the issue continues to grow and gain strength above humanity, above morals. This would not only impact me and my life, but the world as a whole. The world is not one color or shade, it is many, and that’s
what makes it beautiful. We don’t judge leaves for being red, yellow, green, or brown for they are all
beautiful in their own way, so why are people any different?

Long Island is one of the most diverse places in the world, and we should be proud of it. The issues with racism and bullying need to end or its the future will be in peril. Everyone, no matter where they come from, or what language they speak, has a beauty of their own that deserves to be respected as such. If not for diversity, where
would we be today? Diversity is what makes this world our own, and acceptance is what makes it
beautiful. Take a pledge to uphold our diversity and to be strong enough to standup against racism and
bullying. Change begins with us.