Quietly Beautiful

March 25, 2012
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March 20th, 1954: I walk down the street, embracing the hurtful stares that gloom
around me. As I smile back across the faces of envy and hate,
someone comes up to me and pushes me all the way to the corner
of the block. I get up, brushing the dirt off my knees; and rise up
to face the glittering, snowy figure in front of me. She looks
me up and down, flipping her hair like some kind of tease.
“There is only one room for one of us on this block” says the girl
as I look her up and down. Even though I am dim to the
world around me, I rise up strong and tall; overlooking
the disgust and animosity. I laugh heartily and keep walking,
looking over my shoulder at a dumbstruck so-called
“diamond” of the streets. Me and friends meet up at the front of
the school, everyone filling in on what happened to them this
morning. We head inside, but we are ambushed again by snowy
figures with shadowy black eyes. We just roll our eyes
and push them aside so we won’t be late to class. My teacher starts
to glare me and my friends down as we walk to the back of
classroom. The teacher only recognizes Alice, the non-colored
of our group. As I head back with Penny and Daisy, I
realize the horror of segregation. It seems to me that only
me and friends understand the language of diversity. Diversity
is like a snowflake. Each and every snowflake is unique. Some
are big and some are small. One might be lovely
and other one unpleasant. All I wish to see is just one day
when people of every hue will acknowledge one
another, laugh, and smile together; singing along to their
own tune. I sit in my desk, smiling to myself; knowing
that someday, this dream will become true.





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