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On Being a Stranger in Rooms With Smooth Walls
There’s this thing that happens when I walk into certain spaces — offices, stores, neighborhoods. A tightening in the chest. A silent scan of the room.
A quick assessment: How many people here look like me?
Because I know that changes everything.
“I feel like I get treated with more respect in a place where there are more Hispanics.”
That line may seem simple, but it’s heavy. It carries years of observation, of adaptation. Of knowing when to raise your voice and when to lower it. When to pronounce your name “correctly” and when to Americanize it to make others comfortable.
In my community, I feel like a full person. Outside of it, sometimes I feel like a walking stereotype.
And racism — well, Javier said it best.
“Everywhere you go, there will always be racism… where people judge you by your skin color or your religion.”
It’s not always the slurs. It’s not always the hate crimes. Sometimes it’s the way people assume you don’t belong. The way you’re asked, “Where are you from?” like you’re part of the scenery, not the story.
I wish I could say I see hope. But Javier was honest when he said:
“There will be a time when even the most minor…
