For the first 12 years of my primary school years, I was thrown into a mixing bowl of cultures, traditions, and beliefs. I was raised in diversity, and in the quiet corners of my memory I find solace in the fragments of differences — the shards of experience that make up the mosaic of my existence. Each piece, unique and irreplaceable, contributes to the intricate pattern of my being.
Those early years are like sepia-toned photographs; faded but cherished. I learned through various social settings and experiences that diversity was not merely a concept; it was the very fabric of life. Because of it, my life is a collection of fables woven together by threads from distant lands — the silk of India, the wool of Scotland, the dates of the Emirates and folk tales of Indonesia. I am able to recall almost all aspects of my childhood that are made up of cacophony of languages and kaleidoscopes of skin tones, and the friendships I made across cultural boundaries. Our differences then were our strength. They are the puzzle pieces that sit snugly, creating a vibrant whole.
As I grew, so did my awareness of the world’s complexities. The news headlines painted a stark picture; a canvas splattered with conflict, prejudice and fear. Yet, amidst the chaos, I discovered little pockets of hope. The students in my university came together to fight against an ongoing genocide in absolute chivalry, with no fear of authority that might condemn their choice with a strike. All of the people I knew that comes from various regions of the world and adopts different religions would put away their differences and let diversity fuel their fight crimes committed against humanity. It gave me hope that shared purpose can indeed transcend borders.
But adolescence also brought self-doubt. There were moments of gnawing fear that I didn’t quite fit. Was I too much or not enough? The mirror reflected my insecurities, and it took time to realize that my worth lay beyond appearances or my curves. They are found within the symphony of my thoughts and the brushstrokes of my empathy.
Now, as an adult, I navigate a world both fractured and interconnected. The workplace buzzes with collaborations, and while there are times we may speak different professional dialects, we usually come back to our shared purpose. And just like that, in diversity, we find solutions through the unexpected algorithm of life. Beyond those walks, I watch over lives that intersect, creating ripples of influence driven by compassion.
In quiet moments, I ponder a dystopia where sameness reigns supreme. A world bereft of hues will only see me as a solitary figure in a grayscale tapestry. With the absence of diversity, edges of existence are gnawn and everything can easily become a relentless tide erasing the vibrant mosaic of humanity.
Music will hum a single note because monochrome society fears the dissonance of difference. Monoculture crops will dominate with their genetic uniformity for a desperate attempt at control. The soil, once teeming with life will crave for diversity, and the ecosystem will gasps for breath. Life as we know now will ultimate end.
Diversity is often overlooked and we most definitely take it for granted. People fail to recognize the paradox. When uniformity seems like it would bring stability, it would also take away the verry essence of resilience which can only be found in variation. With a little compassion, we can preserve what so little we have left of it today and put down the fight.
Why not let the Earth rest and let us come together in strength, as we bend, adapt and thrive?
Tulisan ini dibuat untuk Pekan #NyariTantangan dengan tema harian “Utopia-Dystopia”. Yuk #NyariTantangan bersama Nyarita!
