A LIFE CHANGING EXPERIENCE
In life, we don’t get to choose who to be, where to be born, which race to belong either black or white, Latino or Hispanic, or to be to a wealthy or low-income family. I guess it is a law of nature, and we don’t have any control over it. However, how we see others who are different from us and treat them is a choice. We can always choose to treat others like we love to be treated; we can always choose not to discriminate and look down upon others. It is something we have control over, and we are still in a position to choose rightly. Having said this, I never chose to be born to a Hispanic American family; neither did I choose that I will be born in the United States. Furthermore, it was never my choice that I will be born in a neighborhood with African Americans. All this happened by chance, and I can barely do anything about it.
My family was a typical American family of three. My mother was an office clerk while my dad was an accountant. Just like all other American kids, I grew up knowing that the whites and the blacks don’t go along. They are never in good terms, and I believe this is because of the historic differences they have been having since time immemorial. The whites have always associated blacks with different sorts of weird things. They associated them with all criminal behaviors, and the blacks retaliated with hatred. The differences and the hatred that developed between the two groups was very evident in my neighborhood.
I grew up with all this in my life, and actually, in my younger years, I was so scared even to play with the African American kids in the neighborhood. I was always scared of them although we co-existed together. However, I never thought that one day all this would come to change. With all the prejudice I grew up with, I never thought one day I would come to realize that all those things I have heard about them were all wrong, and I shouldn’t have felt that way—the memories of that day a still bright and fresh in my mind.
It was during my eleventh grade during a prom night dance. Everybody was felt with happiness, especially for the seniors, since this was their transition party to the college. It was their night, and everybody was jovial. The prom party was just as we expected to be; nothing was extraordinary. For my few other friends and me, we felt like it wasn’t enough and we decided to go to an after-party. We boarded the limo we hired with my friends, and we drove off. It was never in our minds that we were going to be in for a whole turn of events. Our limo sped off the road. Just as we were approaching the town, the limo suddenly stopped. We heard gunshots outside. Everyone was screaming, and we got off the limo and started running into the streets. Everyone went his way. I was so scared. I didn’t know what was going on then. I learned later that some burglars were breaking a jewelry store in the area.
As I was running down the street, I ran into a young teenager. He was an African American. He heard our screams, and he was coming to check what was amiss. He stopped me. I was hesitant at first, but he was the only person I saw after we were scattered into the streets by the gunshots. I told him what happened. He assured me not to worry because everything will be well. He took me into their home. The hospitality I received from his family left me dumbfounded. I didn’t expect that from them having in mind all the brutality and the harsh treatments the blacks have received from the white people. They have always been in the receiving end of all the negatives. They gave me a place to sleep since my home was too far from that side of the town, and the following day they gave me a ride home.
That night I felt safe with them. I don’t know what will have happened to me if that boy didn’t come. I owe a lot to him and his family, and up to date, he is my best friend. I have been wrong all along about them. They are just like us, and we had no right to judge the way we did. It was wrong that we did it and am glad that this had to happen to me to see a whole new picture of them.