My Ideas
Last February I went on a school trip called Sojourn to the Past, in which a small group of students from my school traveled with 90 students from California schools to learn about the landmarks of the 1960s Civil Rights Movement. On Sojourn I learned new perspective on how my parents' traditional views on race and race relations that they learned growing up in rural China really affect my life.
On the fourth day of the two-week trip we were in Birmingham, Alabama learning about the four little girls who were killed in the 16th Street Baptist Church bombing. As I sat in the church pews, looking at the portion of the wall that had been rebuilt, I couldn't help but cry. I couldn't stop thinking about how the men who set the bomb off had been raised to hate people different from them and the death of four innocent children was what had come from it. I couldn't help but think about my parents' values that they taught me.
Since I'd left the church I wondered, how could I go against my parents' ideas? How could such important people in my life be so wrong? How could I respect my parents when I don't respect the kind of person they want me to become? These thoughts tormented me every night so much that I didn't call home for the rest of the trip. I didn't know what I could say to my mom then. After visiting the Civil Rights Memorial, I began crying after touching the names of people who had been killed fighting for freedom. Mr. Steinberg, the program leader, pulled me aside. I explained to him my worries about going home and facing my family. He said I'd go home and love my parents just like always, the only change would be inside of me. He said I may not agree with my parents' ideas, but I could be the end to the racism that had gone on in my family for generations. I knew then that I could be the one who breaks the cycle.
Looking back, I realized that I went on Sojourn because in the back of my mind, I'd never agreed with my parents' traditional ideas of race. They were raised in an environment in which their ideas were the norm. The thing is, I grew up in Brookline, Massachusetts, a liberal American town. I don't share these same beliefs with my parents. I believe in tolerance and acceptance of all people, no matter what they look like. When I got off of the plane and my mom and I saw each other, smiles broke across both of our faces. On the plane ride home, I thought about what Mr. Steinberg said. He was right. I believe I can be end the intolerance and be the beginning of tolerance. I'll be the change I want to see in the world and work towards a brighter future for myself and for others.
Last February I went on a school trip called Sojourn to the Past, in which a small group of students from my school traveled with 90 students from California schools to learn about the landmarks of the 1960s Civil Rights Movement. On Sojourn I learned new perspective on how my parents' traditional views on race and race relations that they learned growing up in rural China really affect my life.
On the fourth day of the two-week trip we were in Birmingham, Alabama learning about the four little girls who were killed in the 16th Street Baptist Church bombing. As I sat in the church pews, looking at the portion of the wall that had been rebuilt, I couldn't help but cry. I couldn't stop thinking about how the men who set the bomb off had been raised to hate people different from them and the death of four innocent children was what had come from it. I couldn't help but think about my parents' values that they taught me.
Since I'd left the church I wondered, how could I go against my parents' ideas? How could such important people in my life be so wrong? How could I respect my parents when I don't respect the kind of person they want me to become? These thoughts tormented me every night so much that I didn't call home for the rest of the trip. I didn't know what I could say to my mom then. After visiting the Civil Rights Memorial, I began crying after touching the names of people who had been killed fighting for freedom. Mr. Steinberg, the program leader, pulled me aside. I explained to him my worries about going home and facing my family. He said I'd go home and love my parents just like always, the only change would be inside of me. He said I may not agree with my parents' ideas, but I could be the end to the racism that had gone on in my family for generations. I knew then that I could be the one who breaks the cycle.
Looking back, I realized that I went on Sojourn because in the back of my mind, I'd never agreed with my parents' traditional ideas of race. They were raised in an environment in which their ideas were the norm. The thing is, I grew up in Brookline, Massachusetts, a liberal American town. I don't share these same beliefs with my parents. I believe in tolerance and acceptance of all people, no matter what they look like. When I got off of the plane and my mom and I saw each other, smiles broke across both of our faces. On the plane ride home, I thought about what Mr. Steinberg said. He was right. I believe I can be end the intolerance and be the beginning of tolerance. I'll be the change I want to see in the world and work towards a brighter future for myself and for others.