A Full Spectrum
(Scholastic Regional Gold Key 2013, Scholastic National Silver Medial 2013, NCTE Achievement in Writing Award 2013)
White. All white. As I sit in the church pew watching a couple uniting in Holy matrimony, I cannot help but notice that everything is white. Her dress. His gloves. The bouquet. The undoubtedly fake petals that burst from the flower girl’s pudgy toddler hands. How nauseatingly boring that everything must be white. Still, I cannot help but feel a slight twinge of melancholy that I will never be the center of attention on a day like today. I will never get to walk down the aisle. I will never hear my preacher speak the words, “I now pronounce you man and wife.” Because there will be no wife. No beautiful bride dressed in her extravagantly insipid white dress. No, my type of wedding would not be accepted. Would be looked down upon. In fact, it would only be legal in six states.
For a brief moment, my thoughts are stained red with injustice at this realization. Why shouldn’t I get the same respect, the same appreciation, the same delight from my peers and my family members as these two? Would one moment in the spotlight with the one I love really be too much to ask for? Can I really be condemned for simply being myself? Unfortunately, yes, that is how it works in the twenty-first century. We have sent men to the moon and we have rovers on Mars. Our eyes are set on galaxies that are light-years away, but somehow we cannot send four out of every ten American men down the aisle of a church right down the street. Such a statistic is an outright contradiction of what our nation stands for: equality.
It is the absurdity of how unequal our thoughts and sentiments really are that could easily evoke passionate, unrelenting indignation among even the most tranquil Americans; however, I, unlike most people, probably unlike that bride in her colorless dress and the groom in his blinding tuxedo, am completely and one hundred percent confident in my uniqueness. Proud. Happy. Secure with who I am. I do not need a boutonniere, a church, or even a golden band around my finger to prove myself. I am not “average,” not typical, not a dull, lifeless white. I am not colored by choice, nor is my canvas painted by society. Not even their hopes and dreams for who I will become and with whom I will fall in love can affect me. I am me. I am who I was made to be, and to be ashamed of such a thing would do my God and those close to me an utter disservice.
I do not abhor my circumstances, but in fact I embrace them. It’s exhilarating to be different. Challenging, inspiring. What exactly would be the point in life if one had nothing to fight for? Besides, there is no reward for receiving everything on a silver platter of happiness. Greatness achieved without opposition precipitates no joy. Society’s ignorance and our relentless efforts to overcome its rigid cruelty shape us, mold us. Make us stronger. Every moment I spend fighting for my feelings, my love, and my right to express them, I gain so much strength. What would life be like with a mind as narrow as a needle’s eye and no insight to anything but the ordinary? It would be absolutely dreadful. Insignificant and boring. I will never understand why the purity of matrimony must be tainted to include only specific individuals, just as I will never understand what puts the bride and her groom above me. But it is no matter. Sure, I may meet discrimination and resentment, I may shed tears, and I may not even be granted the luxury of marriage. However, when compared to who I am as a person, all this becomes negligible.
So, to all the conservative grandmothers and presidential candidates advocating for “traditional family values,” who will see me hand-in-hand not with a woman but with a man and yet scoff at my evident love, I sincerely pity you. Hate is present everywhere and presents itself every minute, but love has become quite rare in our world, so we should never shun love in any form. Society may say and think differently, but I am not simply colored different, colored outcast. I am not colored gay, not even colored the rainbow. My colors are vibrant, amazing. It’s simply too bad that many of you will never be able to decipher the passionate, animated mural that is me.
For a brief moment, my thoughts are stained red with injustice at this realization. Why shouldn’t I get the same respect, the same appreciation, the same delight from my peers and my family members as these two? Would one moment in the spotlight with the one I love really be too much to ask for? Can I really be condemned for simply being myself? Unfortunately, yes, that is how it works in the twenty-first century. We have sent men to the moon and we have rovers on Mars. Our eyes are set on galaxies that are light-years away, but somehow we cannot send four out of every ten American men down the aisle of a church right down the street. Such a statistic is an outright contradiction of what our nation stands for: equality.
It is the absurdity of how unequal our thoughts and sentiments really are that could easily evoke passionate, unrelenting indignation among even the most tranquil Americans; however, I, unlike most people, probably unlike that bride in her colorless dress and the groom in his blinding tuxedo, am completely and one hundred percent confident in my uniqueness. Proud. Happy. Secure with who I am. I do not need a boutonniere, a church, or even a golden band around my finger to prove myself. I am not “average,” not typical, not a dull, lifeless white. I am not colored by choice, nor is my canvas painted by society. Not even their hopes and dreams for who I will become and with whom I will fall in love can affect me. I am me. I am who I was made to be, and to be ashamed of such a thing would do my God and those close to me an utter disservice.
I do not abhor my circumstances, but in fact I embrace them. It’s exhilarating to be different. Challenging, inspiring. What exactly would be the point in life if one had nothing to fight for? Besides, there is no reward for receiving everything on a silver platter of happiness. Greatness achieved without opposition precipitates no joy. Society’s ignorance and our relentless efforts to overcome its rigid cruelty shape us, mold us. Make us stronger. Every moment I spend fighting for my feelings, my love, and my right to express them, I gain so much strength. What would life be like with a mind as narrow as a needle’s eye and no insight to anything but the ordinary? It would be absolutely dreadful. Insignificant and boring. I will never understand why the purity of matrimony must be tainted to include only specific individuals, just as I will never understand what puts the bride and her groom above me. But it is no matter. Sure, I may meet discrimination and resentment, I may shed tears, and I may not even be granted the luxury of marriage. However, when compared to who I am as a person, all this becomes negligible.
So, to all the conservative grandmothers and presidential candidates advocating for “traditional family values,” who will see me hand-in-hand not with a woman but with a man and yet scoff at my evident love, I sincerely pity you. Hate is present everywhere and presents itself every minute, but love has become quite rare in our world, so we should never shun love in any form. Society may say and think differently, but I am not simply colored different, colored outcast. I am not colored gay, not even colored the rainbow. My colors are vibrant, amazing. It’s simply too bad that many of you will never be able to decipher the passionate, animated mural that is me.