KIM NAMJOON ONCE QUOTED “NO ONE IS BORN UGLY, WE JUST LIVE IN A JUDGEMENTAL SOCIETY”. Hello, I am Sania and today I am writing about something that we all have experienced, are experiencing and am sure will keep on experiencing for the rest of our life, Racism. So what exactly is racism? If you ask google it says “The belief that some races of people are better than others” but if you ask me I personally think it's much more than that. All the human race has experienced so many episodes of Racism in the form of color discrimination, and the chain doesn't stops there, its not always about the color people are racist about, Asian hate is a very burning topic nowadays, every day dozens of Asian-African people are killed in America for the sake Racism in a country where they consider as their very own. And its not that its just the common people facing it, we all know about the Meghan-Oprah interview where, the duchess of Sussex opened up about the poor mentality of the so called Royal family where she was continuously humiliated for not being a royal and in addition to it, white. Or whether it be the worldwide famous and beloved boyband BTS being called corona-virous by a German talk show host just for the sake of their increased popularity among the youths not just in their very own Asian country South Korea but also in this whole world. Passing homophobic jokes to the ones in such groups or the continuous misogyny that Women belong in kitchen and they can't drive, they are all the part of some poor Racist mind. And the incidents I am talking are just mere minute microscopic examples of Racism present among us. What we don't understand is it could be any of us some day or the other. Just keep yourself on the place of the little girl you just bullied for her color. Isn't it devastating to be shameful that is very own, ours. Making people feel bad about their own color, caste, creed, skin, hair or anything? You may argue that a simple non intentional joke with a friend wont be considered as Racism, but believe me my friend it is. Every journey starts with a single step and non intentional harmless bullying is a way good first step. Racism is destroying lives and we see it, everyday, yet we don't know how to react. Maybe because we are the ones who made the differences. We celebrate black history month to celebrate the brave one, but black! Isn't that Racist guys? Its just like saying “oh am not racist, I have a black friend” Why can't we see them just as brave people and not brave BLACK people. I don't know about you lot but if you ask me, as once quoted by comedian Vir Das I think the only possible way to defeat racism is creating a difference, not just the moral one but literal one. The most honest, simple, non-judgmental, and naïve way of getting rid of racism is acknowledging our differences. Yes acknowledging them because we are different, aren't we? my hair is different, my color is different, my skin is different, my values are different, and its ok to talk about it. If we talk about the fact that we are different, and acknowledge how we are different, why we are different, instead of pretending that everybody's the same and nobody is different, and yet in the subconscious counting the number of ways in which we are different, we all might be on the same page of acknowledgement and be less, Different. “Imagine jumping out of a skydiving plane and your parachute doesn't work. What memories would flash before you? Now imagine the parachute opened. How differently would you act when you landed?” That same rush of happiness would be on the little girls face when you will go to her and acknowledge her difference, instead of just bullying her for being different. Before ending my words I would like to say that, everyday when you see someone hating themselves for the way they are, hating their ethnicity, color, culture, race or anything, just remind them that they are beautiful, that they are the best version of themselves. As Alessia Cara song says, "Oh, they don't see, the light that's shining Deeper than the eyes can find it Maybe we have made them blind So they try to cover up their pain And cut their woes away Cause cover girls don't cry After their face is made But there's a hope that's waiting for you in the dark You should know you're beautiful just the way you are And you don't have to change a thing The world could change its heart No scars to your beautiful We're stars and we're beautiful" Thank you so much and have a non-racist day ahead.

It is distasteful to see that in this Great World of opportunity, that free man is not very free but constrained to the pigment of their own skin. It is a sin to see; a greater sin to be, in the grocery store, a hub of all colors of man, filled by those clutching their purse tighter, workers who see “foreignness” and refuse help, and by those who see color and speak slower. It was my eyes that saw this, as they and them saw, the criminal punishment of skin and the prejudices that act on it. Humanity is on the brink of a race war because of the unjust constitutions and prejudices that are violent towards people of color; internal, external, or otherwise. The state of the world, now and henceforth, is determined by the social bodies' treatment of racial minorities. With riots, police brutality, and retaliation these violent means will have violent ends. I have pondered my thoughts on race endlessly, weighing in numerous perspectives, even consulting with a friend of mine who is a professor of Film Studies at Harvard. My dear friend quoted “The eyes, chico. They never lie,” from Scarface. I was struck so deeply with a wonderous idea. The eyes could never lie. That we all know. With lawful reasoning, my course of action is reserved so that the cattle of slaughter may not be slaughtered at all. In modern conditions, a person sees and acts, as a racist may see and furthermore act out of prejudice. It all begins with sight. I now propose to you my solution which I believe could be provided with no reasonable objections or qualms and that is to remove the eyes of everybody. I have been assured by the experiences of many blind persons that they show a great expression of gratitude and egotistical judgment is non pervading. For those who cannot see, cannot judge. Grace yourselves with my lovely idea and we will come to see a gentle future. Upon 3 or 4 years of age, when entering school hood, the eyes of a person would be ritually removed. And then a blind life shall begin. Without vision, prejudices could no longer be acted upon. This would bring children to an open, free state of mind and the judgement of humankind would be reliant on character only. Ego gone. Enlightenment will be ours. It has come to my attention that this idea may be a violation of human rights, but this single one would come to be the solution to many other human rights violations against people of colour. It is simply one evil to lessen another. There have been many other issues. Without eyes, many liberties would be taken such as seeing wonderful places, being able to function in everyday life, and surgical needs. Luxury travel would no longer be needed since there is nothing to see. Everyday life would be lived as the average blind person, functionable and able-bodied, to assume it is not would be ableist and friction against society. Surgical needs would be fulfilled by robotic software, of course. Other necessary functions such as crossing a street would be assisted by Aipoly V7, allowing the blind to understand their surroundings. We would survive without sight. Troublesome at first yet us humans will persist. We must, it us our nature to survive and adapt. Evolution has ensured that many, if not all, animals rely on sight to survive, including humans. The only exception is those who no longer need it, such as deep-sea creatures, who have no need for eyes in dark unseeing conditions. With advancements, now it is humanity who no longer needs it. Our sight has made us the most blind of creatures. Close your eyes, dear reader, for a moment. Without vision, we would also not be able to conceive of the idea of race. We would be free of judgements that create barriers amongst society. People would be judged by how they think and talk rather than how they look. The removal of eyes would liberate more than just that. No concept of gender, no classist judgement, and so much more. For we cannot see, but is that all man proceeds? Is it not laughable that we find flaw in everything? Perhaps we would begin judgement on the basis of voice. Follow me, or do not, we are blind either way. Is that not funny? Ponder this solution. You will find it does greater good than harm. Many other atrocities would also concede. Trafficking of humans would lessen, use of hard drugs, discrimination, and many other societal faults. My proposal offers relief from the constraints of humankind. It would be chaos, but beautiful chaos at that. Racists would have nothing to squander about. So, I say, out with our eyes and in with a new, kinder world. Where race and discrimination are concepts of the past. A world without eyes. A place where all of us, metaphorically and unironically, can see a world without prejudice.

'5461', '15246', 'Photo', 'Article', 'Should we draw a conclusion that Uganda's political space thrives under full democracy? Compilation of Robert Ssekolya (Teacher, professional writer, mentor, business man, renowned blogger) On October, 1, 2020, history will unfold that at 10pm during Agataliko Nfuufu (scrutinized news broadcast) at Bukedde TV, His Excellence Yoweri Kaguta Museveni, the president of Uganda and one of the most serving presidents of Africa since the continent's renaissance was quoted to have said 'there is no country in the world which is more democratic than Uganda '. Well, we have no mandate to discretely refute the presidential statement before having a critical reflection and introspection of the metamorphosis of democracy way back from 1962 when Uganda celebrated her independence. Based on a comparative analysis of the lens and moot question of democracy under different governments both local and international governments, and to a certain degree, we bestow honor and thank His Excellence president Museveni for realizing a pocket-sized democracy in Uganda during his 34 year old leadership trajectory. However, as the incumbent president seeks reelection in the forthcoming presidential elections, his government is called upon to reexamine itself in the way it manages and administers the resources of the country mostly the human resource to leverage its stance on democracy. If we were to unearth how Ugandans are constantly brutalized and dehumanized by the current regime then...things would take a new twist, the genre of our story wouldn't be a SCI-Fl or a romantic story but rather... ...if you value and dignify humanity and you were once at the sad scene gazing at the last breath of your family member, neighbor or a friend being grappled and annihilated by the perpetrators of democracy, you can concur that such high pitched statements are based on facts. To date, we are still experiencing a terrifying wail of many innocent Ugandans who lost their lives while spearheading the political campaign to propel the country to the peak of a new government. It's critical that the current government redefines the term "democracy" so that prior to the terminal phase of the election process, Ugandans are satisfied that autocracy no longer assumes any position in the political leadership of their country. Does it fashionably call for resignation of the incumbent president to revive the country through unfeigned democratic systems? Maybe...it's difficult to pursue such an ideal decision, however, if this could be a nightmare especially to many protagonists from the NRM political wing, then such pro-NRM cadres (the iconic actors in the evolution of the NRM party) can cherish the following duality of options; They can either craftily draft another plan (plan B) that will restructure the NRM leadership systems and ensure that democracy prevails in the African Pearl. treacherously continue to blindfold Ugandans with false pledges for fear of dislodging the incumbent president and in order to suppress the driving forces inducing the leadership transition from a cohort of prehensile rulers. All sectors should design blueprints that reorient them to demonstrate democracy in their operations. The police, judiciary and other law enforcement organs are not only accountable to peace and tranquillity of the natives but are also mandated by the constitution to enforce performance and standards in the application of the law against offenders irrespective of their political affiliations and socio-economic backgrounds. They ought to streamline their interventions and service delivery pathways by responding to the outcry of Ugandans in pursuit of practical and effective administration of law and justice. The assumption is that all people have equal inalienable right to self expression and justice. We earnestly request, the government and its organs as highlighted above, all private actors including but not limited to human rights activists, individual organisations...to play a pivotal role in promoting the civic rights of all Ugandans especially during this time when Ugandans are cogitating about the election countdown. The ultimate goal is to observe the Rule of Law as well as ensuring that democracy is prevalent in Uganda and that harmony flourishes throughout the country. Expressing our feelings, emotions, thoughts and sharing ideas, insights, knowledge and wisdom is always our corporate job in a bid to fix the problems overwhelming our society.

THE HOCUS-POCUS OF THE INCUMBENT REGIME TO RESIST LEADERSHIP TRANSITION AND OSTRACISM OF THE AUTOCRATIC PRESIDENT. Recently, a complaint was lodged against the legitimacy of NUP leadership, but the question resonating in the minds of the Ugandan populace and the international community is, will justice prevail and appease the parties to the dispute?What are your projections in the resolution of this litigious matter? Let's first have an overview and a critical analysis of the motives and hidden agendas of subjecting NUP to this state of political agitation by the trembling regime; The strategy of the dictatorial leadership is basically to; 👉 disorganise and subjugate NUP political activities and transitive programs. 👉divert the attention of the public to create a platform for the regime to continue taking advantage of the Covid-19 situation, ignorance and reticence of the public to manipulate the country in all sectors like oil industry as it siphons gross monetary resources from these assets as unveiled by the public procurement audits. 👉paralyze and delay the administration of justice in matters related to NUP political wing and people power movement. 👉 lower the motivation of many oppressed Ugandans mostly the youth who are constantly thirsting for change and ousting the mafia government out of power. We cognitively acknowledge that the judgement trajectory yet to be pursued is concretely based on falsehood, political conspiracy, corruption and hypothetical grounds. Our biased and compromised judicial sector is on trial and a watch over by Ugandans and the international community to see whether it will show credibility and professionalism in administering justice in regard to the complaint lodged by a fraction of the political agitators against the leadership of NUP because such people are opposed to change of the office of the presidency and in other critical leadership areas, they are irrationally desirous of perpetuating autocracy at the expense of the soaring frustrations and pessimism of Ugandans. However, we can discern what is currently boiling in the law sector. The organ is still craving how it will cunningly dive into this legal matter and meet the expected legal standards within its legal framework and jurisdiction. Unfortunately, it's speculated that the judiciary is being illegitimately disoriented, and misguided in its decision making process, it can no longer enjoy its independence and autonomy, it lacks public trust and has been infiltrated by the corruptible crooks. No doubt, it will hardly show its credibility in making a right and fair judgment because the move is politically influenced and fueled by the mafias at the helm of manipulating the country. More so, it will find it more challenging to reach to the threshold of a fair and reliable legal resolution within the projected limited schedule (timeline) to execute the final judgment. However, if the judiciary fails to execute or get hold of its powers and authority conferred by the constitution of Uganda but rather opts to submit to the directives, pressure and repugnantly illegitimate conditions of the complainants, l bet, no final court hearing and judgement will be effected this year, the legal entity will keep adjourning its final legal intervention in the matter pretexting to be on grassroots still venturing in aggravating more practically based evidence implicating NUP, and in favor of the incumbent autocratic regime not until we shall transition into next year. This will be a big fallacy that will grossly cost the judicial sector and affect the reputation of the Ugandan government at both local and global scene. *When humanity fails to accelerate change, nature does it solely with its powerful tools which at times might lead to the overthrow of the dictator and facilitate restoration of hope among the formerly marginalised households and societies!*—Robert Ssekolya!

Call me stupid. Call me childish and over dramatic. I don't care anymore. I'm tired of this. I really am. I'm tired of the looks. I'm tired of being looked down on. I'm tired of never having the freedom to roam the world freely because I'm scared I'll be killed. Why us? For so long, I lived in a world where I was free to do whatsoever I pleased. I was happy. I was free to do what I wanted to. Then I saw the news. I saw people like myself being mistreated and killed. They didn't do anything wrong. Why are they killing them? Why won't they stop? I can see the blood, I can hear their cries, I can feel their agony, but why is this happening? I moved to America for a better life. They told me this was the place where dreams come true. I wanted to widen my horizon. I wanted to see for myself the things I saw on the news. I never knew I was going to experience this for myself. There's so much crying and pain here. I can here them screaming for help. I want to help them but I'm scared. I want to run away but my legs are frozen. I can't move. I can taste the metallic liquid running down my face. It hurts so badly. The pain is unbearable but I can't feel it. All I feel is fear. I'm scared. I'm scared of who I am. I'm scared of what they'll do to me if they find me. Why can't I move? Please...help me... I can hear the sirens in the distance and I feel relieved. We're safe. We'll be okay. I was stupid to think that. We would never be safe. The gunshots rang in the air again. I could hear people running and screaming in fear. I wanted to run with them but my legs...what's happening to me? I hear an explosion behind me and I'm knocked further down the street. I open my mouth to scream in pain but noting leaves my mouth. It's like I've gone mute. What's happening to me? How did I get here? Help me! I can hear the voices from afar. I hear them calling us freaks, monkeys, monsters...but I don't understand it. What have we done wrong? Was our existence so much of a burden to them? Why won't they leave us alone? Why won't they let me go? Why? I look to my side and see a little girl crying. She's covered in so much blood and I'm shocked she's still alive. I want to comfort her. I want to hold her but my body won't move. She turns her head to look at me and I grimace at the open wounds on her face. She coughs up blood and I feel like crying. ''Why did they do this to us?'' Her voice is so melodic and calming even as her body shuts down slowly. She doesn't sound like she's dying and I wish it was like that. ''I was going to get some ice-cream for Bessy and they shot me. I didn't do anything wrong. Why did they shoot me?'' I want to tell her she'll be okay but I knew it would be a lie. She didn't deserve this. No one did. ''I was going to sail the world with Bessy. We were going to rescue all the black people and start our country for them.'' She winced in pain when she tried to laugh. ''I guess I'll be leaving all that to Bessy now.'' She searched my eyes before forcing a smile. ''You don't look so bad. You'll be fine. As for me, I don't think I can hold on any longer.'' ''No...'' It came out as a hoarse whisper burning my throat like I had just swallowed acid. I coughed out blood and saw her grimace as she watched me with pity. ''Don't force yourself to talk. It'll hurt you.'' She diverted her eyes from me to the sky. ?old with my husband and five children and three dogs. We'd all live in a huge house by the beach.'' I could see the salty tears running down her face and mixing with her blood. ''I shouldn't have had such high hopes for a better future. It was stupid of me. I should've known. It's simply not possible for someone like me. As long as I'm black, my future will never be happy.'' I wanted to beg her to hold on. I couldn't just let her die but I was too weak to do anything. I think I might be paralyzed. Oh God no. ''Thank you for listening to me. I should go now. Tell Bessy I love her and that she should carry on without me. I'll be watching her now. I'm so...tired...'' Her body went completely still beside me. Her eyes were still open staring up at the sky. She was gone now and even though I hardly knew her, I cried. I cried because I was sick of life. I cried because I hated being who I was. I cried because I hadn't been the one to die. I hate being black. I don't want to be like this anymore. I woke up with a start panting heavily with sweat running down my face. I looked at my brown hands which had been clutching the sheets tightly. I used them to touch my face and felt the tears. Even though it was all a dream, it still didn't change my perception of who I was and the ill fate my kind had been stricken with. I really do hate being black.

GANGADHARA RAO IRLAPATI's I'm, An unfortunate Indian scientist subjected to negligence,racism,discrimination despite have done over a 1000 researches&studies.But all my researches were ignored&darkned. You can get my researches either by searching my name GANGADHARA RAO IRLAPATI in all websites or by sending your email to my email id girlapati@aol.com. I am now making my life's last journey with hopelessness and sickness (severe medical complications)and disregard&despair. Under the aforesaid circumstances, I urge the world scientists that kindly publicize&recognize me as the Originator of Global Monsoon Time Scales&National Geoscope Projects by making references in your research papers&by postings on social media. GANGADHARA RAO IRLAPATI

We were in a barren city. The storms kept hitting. Nobody knew when they were coming next. Blackened sky. Disastrous rain. Wailing sirens. Police officers, yelling orders into their PA systems - their voices blaring through the speakers. Debris flying. Them: “Hands up!” Us: “Don't shoot!” Them: “Hands up!” Us: “Don't shoot!” Them: “Hands up!” Us: “Don't shoot!” Over and over and over again. We ran into the stores and warehouses, hiding under retail carts and equipment made of iron that might keep us safe but not for certain. We maneuvered the industrial carts from one side of the space to the other to escape the bullets....but they wouldn't stop. They came for us. They came for our skin. The bullets sinking into our yellow and tearing holes through our black. We were hurting; broken on the inside, but brave on the outside. We were angry but we were together. The flag waved tattered and tired in the background, grayed by the smog. When the war on the foreground was over we would walk, looking for younger children that didn't belong to us - not because we were covetous but because they were our allies. They looked ivory as bone, helplessly washed in glistening shades of white by the hands of God our maker. Some were painted a dark red. Others were dipped in bright yellows and fine golds. Most of the children were polished in the prettiest brown and black tones; a stony trail of ebony by the wayside. We walked. Then we sped. Then we ran. Them: “Hands up!” Us: “Don't shoot!” Them: “Hands up!” Us: “Don't shoot!” Them: “Hands up!” Us: “Don't shoot!” Again, we sought for cover, trying our best to remember the “duck-and-cover” protocol from our lock-down drill days in grade school. We were adults on the inside who knew righteousness apart from injustice but we wore the bodies of fifth graders, and seventh graders, and eighth graders. We were us, but the us from our youths, staring each other in the eyes as if to scream, “fight for your life! It is our God given right to live!” Imagine that? A God given right. The upmost right that not a single white man had the right to strip away, but he did so in plain sight because he could. Their stark hands collected the muscle memory of the last lynchings; their craving for the next victim....insatiable. We fought for the right to breathe the same air as these white law enforcement officers. We were not privileged enough. To them, black or yellow meant filthy and unpardonable. They counted us as unworthy. We hid for the sake of preserving our right to bleed red. They saw us. We owned our anger. They opened fire. The color of our skin didn't inspire the crime; it was the crime. They raged, offended that we were still awake. They seethed for fear that we were not yet left for dead in pools of our own blood. They wanted us asleep forever. They were scared of us, threatened by a beauty that challenged their white privilege. They called our skin dominant so their society made us inferior. We became a part of it, having no choice but to play the role of the weaker vessel. How did I not know that this series was on repeat for over 400 years? Yet, the world remained quiet about our dread. Instead of defending us, they eyeballed our ascent into a Heaven that called us home too soon. Glory demanded us. We carry on, filling up the streets as if nothing ever happened; traveling on threadbare feet that were tired of amounting to the stereotype that “all minorities do is run.” They blame us for running but it's the only option they offer us. We run until we see Heavens gates swing wide, shadow-less and full of acceptance that our prior world ruled we didn't deserve. God waits on the other side to meet us and we grow nervous, buckling before His bigness. Were we ready all along? Did He count us as so from birth? Either way, He doesn't shun us. He doesn't know how to, so instead He bear hugs us. Deep in my soul, I can feel hundreds of thousands of God's children fling their eyes open from the same nightmare, all at once and in different time zones. They feel like my friends. One, by one, by one, we wake up with a disturbed kind of energy that sends elastic waves from the Earth's epicenter to its opposite poles. We sense that the racists could feel the aftermath of our torment. “Why can't the nightmares remain nightmares?” we ask rhetorically. Our voices echo from different bedrooms. We ache for dreams only to wonder if they are worth writing down or fighting for. The media tells us, that we might not ever survive to see our dreams. They don't tell us verbatim of course, but the reports all end on notes that shrill with dissonance and screech with injustice. For the first time at age 26, I am unsettled by my indigenous features, alarmed that I am a double minority, who can't scrub the color off of my skin. I am Latina. I am a yellow woman.

I am an unfortunate Indian scientist subjected to negligence racism,discrimination. Governments and organizations didn't support&provide research opportunities to me.I built a small lab at my house and over a 10000 researches and studies have been conducted on weather problems&natural calamities and more than 1000 research papers are prepared and published.Mainly I have formulated the BASICS OF GLOBAL MONSOON TIME SCALES, IRLAPATISM-A NEW HYPOTHETICAL MODEL OF COSMOLOGY, GEOSCOPE,INDIAN MONSOON TIME SCALE.I am now making my life's last journey with hopelessness&sickness.Find out my researches in all websites by searching it's aforesaid names or GANGADHARA RAO IRLAPATI and bring me into light by making references in your publications.

“Oye, choca, que lindos tus ojos,” a middle-aged man called out to me from his small, beaten up car on the small dirt road I dread walking on so much. This was not the first superficial comment I had gotten that day. Most cat calls directed towards me came from large, unkempt men whose appearance alone caused me to feel fear and unease. I hurried without giving him a glance for fear of fueling the fire that was his acute need for attention that he may go to desperate measures to quench. All my life, I had never been allowed to play out on the street with my friends. I had never been allowed to do something as simple as walk to the little corner store half a block away to buy a few eggs alone. I always needed an adult by my side, and even that was not a guarantee of my safety. As a young child, I had been taught to divert as much attention as I could away from who I truly was. This was done by simple things such as never speaking English in public, never looking people on the street I did not know in the eye, never going out without an adult - preferably a Bolivian man, and by dressing in an attempt to hide some of my snowy skin. Even my best efforts at blending in could not keep all the attention away; cat calls were a common experience to me for as long as I can remember, and this put an inevitable fear in my mind of men. For this reason, getting as far away from that man on the street as possible was my only concern in that moment. As soon as I got far enough away for me to feel comfortable, I remembered the reason I was walking; my mom was waiting for me at the other end of the street to catch a “micro” - a public transportation bus. My mind settled instantly at the sight of my strong, beautiful, Bolivian mother, and all the fearful thoughts that seem to short circuit my brain disappeared for a split second that did not last anywhere near long enough. As soon as I reached my mom's side, she spotted the micro heading towards us. She reminded me to keep my bag in front of me since the risk of either getting something stolen or getting inappropriately touched were high if I did nothing to prevent it. Consequently, I stayed by my mom's side as she paid the bitter, overweight driver who had already stepped on the gas pedal again. No seats were available, so we stood in the overcrowded bus until we reached the “abasto” - a vast market in which one can buy fresh food; cheap materials; and agricultural goods. Immediately after stepping off the bus, I was hit with the seemingly origin-less, inescapable stench. I mindlessly followed my mom through the weaving market that seemed to never be the same as she searched for the perfect bunch of bananas for her banana bread. On the side of one of the endless numbers of small fruit stands, there was a little girl sitting under a truck in an attempt to escape the powerful sun that so violently beat on everyone who dared stand directly under its rays. She looked up from the corn husks she was playing with to observe the unusual sight of a white girl with green eyes. A teenage girl sat in the bed of the truck with one leg carelessly hanging off the side. Contrary to the child's simple way of achieving entertainment, her fingers vigorously flew across the glossy screen of her small cellphone. Unlike the child, the teenager barely glanced at me, and as soon as she saw that I was just another girl, her phone retook her attention. The little girl, however, was still mesmerized by my appearance, so I smiled which seemed to satisfy her as she immediately smiled back and returned to playing with anything she could find. Meanwhile, my mom had decided that she had found the bananas that she wanted, so she asked the middle-aged woman standing behind them how much they costed. The woman, dressed in faded clothes and a threadbare apron in which she kept the money she had earned, readily recognized my fair colored skin and naturally assumed that I was not Bolivian and, therefore, ignorant. She chose to take a chance at gaining more money by charging us extra; however, we were used to being charged extra a countless amount of times due to the fact that I was different. My mom convinced the woman to charge us the honest amount of how much the bananas were worth, and we kept walking through the abyss. After an hour, we got on a micro and returned home - one of the few places I felt safe. This short trip had not brought about any terrible events; however, the possibility of being taken advantage of due to irrelevant and superficial things was a constant likelihood in my life. I have grown up trying to hide who I am because of a fear of those who I do not know, but I have never seen it as a fully negative thing because being different means that I am special; the unwanted attention is simply due to everyone around me recognizing that. Maybe, just maybe, someday I will be free to be whoever I want to be without a threat. For now, I live as a minority in what I consider to be my own culture.

I feel pissed off with this fucking planet. What happened was I posted a piece of art that seemed annocus enough like my art and Reddit took it as a fucking terrorist threat... which is a pile of it because I am the farthest thing from a terrorist. They censored and temoved it and I blew up when I saw the fucking t word. I blew my stack in front of my mom and told them everything and started to cry. I am a live (living survivor whatever) of terrorism in my early childhood and nearly died. This censorship and removal was enraging because of my early childhood. People these days since fucking 9/11 think that if you are a desert and or mountain dweller that you are evil. I happened to have both in my DNA, and I always breeze through customs and security and the airport and I have a clean record. Mom this is why I was pissed.