I wish we lived in a world where we all got along. Where we don’t see each other’s differences and have settled our own insecurities. But alas, that is not the case. It seems that every week, our fellow Black brothers are being murdered for no rhyme or reason.

Today, I want to discuss the minority complex, as I see it. A few weeks ago, my fraternity brother, who happens to be a Black man, drove Nick and I home. On the way home, we saw a Black homeless guy, which is not a strange occurrence in San Francisco, on the corner of the street. My fraternity brother exclaimed, that he hates seeing that, because it makes the rest of us (Black people), look bad. I appreciated the fact that he was comfortable enough with Nick and I to say that. I also was happy that someone had the same mindset. I feel the exact same way when I see another Mexican selling drugs.

You see, as a minority you grow up knowing you have to prove yourself. Prove to society that you are not a criminal. Prove to society that you are smart. Prove to your own people that you are not better than them. Seriously, I can’t even count how many times, people have called me “white girl,” for reading or for having manners.

Now, you may sit there and think why do you have to prove yourself? Well, because we have to represent a whole group of people. I have been in plenty of situations where I am the only Latina, the only female or the youngest female. Seriously, look up from your desk, turn to your right and turn to your left, do you see any Black or Latinos there. I am going to say that about 85% of you will shyly say no.

Nick was excited that one of the engineers his company was Latino, because frankly you just don’t see that.

Now, let’s switch the script. Let’s talk about white people for a second. Their big complex is that they have to prove to people of color that they are not racist. Nick has been in situations where he, as a straight white male, has to prove to people that he is not racist or homophobic or sexist. They automatically assume he is gonna be a “bruh,” which I find hilarious, because the majority of his friends are Asian and Indian.

Also, he has to deal with getting better treatment. A few years ago, my family was having a fundraiser at Flea Market. It was for the Alzheimer’s Association and we wanted to spread awareness to our Latino family. My cousins whose everyday attire consists of baggy t-shirts and loose pants (but also are loving fathers, devoted husbands, and hard workers) had to get something out the car. They had to leave the area and enter the lot where the cars were parked. The officer that was guarding the parking lot was giving my cousins a bit of a hard time. Nick had to grab something out of the car, and ran up to catch up with them. The second he met up with my cousins with his blue eyes, fitted t-shirt and fair skin, the officer let him in. Nick saw this and hated it.

I guess what I am trying to say here is that we all have to deal with race issues. Everyday we have to deal with it–for better or for worse. So as you enter the world with your complex issues and insecurities know that other people are dealing with their own.

May you all be comfortable enough to say hi to one another, smile at one another, love one another and most importantly respect one another.

Hugs and Smiles,

Nicole