The Erosion of Our Last Names End.

“The Minority is the Majority” I try to speak with as much passion as I feel inside but yet the crowd seems to be attracted to something else. “My name is Amel Harding. I am..” Again I lose their attention. I've always hated people not taking others into consideration; being the opposite of self aware.  It's happened since the break of time in history, the rich could not see the end of the world through the smoke of their factories. And they could only see new land as they stole the culture of those already presently there. I would know.  I open my mouth, but it's left dry without a single drop of inspiration.  But I look into the crown and see the handful of people paying attention. And suddenly it occurs to me. “I speak. I speak to all my fellow adolescents in my genre of living. I live in silence as I see my family being deported, unjustified and being abuses by racist stereotypes everyday. But I forgive those of speak of me this way and keep me in a box because of the color of my skin. For they can't understand. They’ve  been blessed with a fortunate future, present and past. But for us the people who are working to be up there with them we are taunted with our colleges mistakes. While the white rewrite the past and make them look like saints. But I'm not here to remind you of how they…”  i stop. “They came to own the land of american i'm here to explain why i'm  here”. This reminds me of when I first realized what my parents left in there life as i visited mexico for the first time.

I was 14 and complaining as my head reminded me to be awake at the break of dawn. I woke with the sun and we left to the airport and crumpled all our fatigue as we rushed through security. Our minds alert for the moment we boarded and our hearts dusted away the fear of missing the flight. And we sat in our middle class seats,  I rested my eyes for a moment and was awoken in a new country. I got up and out. But the moment my body left the plane the humidity in the air hugged my body and left it sticky as a way to say hello. And the sun kissed my skin with a heat that touched my soul. Then as I walked the smell of burning trash and horse poop tickled my nose. And in that second my brain clicked and the sound of complaints came again.

We arrived and left the taxi with a blink of an eye and as that eye opened it saw my father's hometown. I saw  houses half finished and homes with holes as if it were spelling out poverty. But I passed and saw not depression as you'd expect but happiness on people's faces being thankful for what they had. I looked and saw starving dogs, muddy puddles of random debris. but as I looked to my father and saw my smiling father hug his sister in the first time in years. and i came to realize what my parents gave up for my family to move ahead.

And In that moment I opened my mouth again as I woke up from my memories. “I'm here because my father choose to rise for what the future had planned for him. I'm here to rise from the stereotypes and prove we are all equal. ”And as I looked up, I felt all of my colleges reach out and rise together. But it ended, as the distractions yelled at us again to pay attention. But  we stayed connected, and I know we'll rise together slowly. Shutting them up. Forgiving them as we together look down upon the same view of success.






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