Sometimes I find myself staring at…you.
In our differences I find something to look at. To ask questions about. To be intrigued about.
Is it rude? To be intrigued? To see and notice our differences?
Is it considered discrimination if I recognize that you don’t look like I do? Or act like I do? Or think like I do?
Should I be ashamed that because you are different than I am, I want to look, see, learn and understand. And appreciate.
Will your skin color make me look at you? Maybe.
Will piercings in your face make me look at you? Maybe.
Will the shape of your eyes make me look at you? Maybe.
Will your age make me look at you? Maybe.
Will the people you are with make me look at you? Maybe.
Will the clothing you wear make me look at you? Maybe.
I don’t look to be rude. I look to see you. Catch your eye. Smile, and share the same space in our passing moment in this world. When I pass people I speak, I look at them, and hope they return the glance. I hope I pass someone who sees my spiky silver black hair and thinks….something.
How horrible it would be, how horrible it is, if we didn’t notice one another. To be so different and yet go unseen. If we didn’t (don’t) appreciate our differences.
Is the world satisfied with one kind of flower?
Even in our similarities none of us is the same.
I look at you because you are different.
I see you because you aren’t like me. If you were like me, it would make my world dull and boring and I likely wouldn’t pay attention.
I mean no harm being different than you.
And I mean no harm noticing your differences from me.
Take my glance at you as my acceptance and my appreciation of the color and beauty, and difference, you bring to this world.
I would rather look, and wonder, than not notice you. Your difference attracts my eye, your behavior attracts my attention, your communication of thoughts and ideas attracts my curiosity. Your acceptance of my differences, and the sharing of our differences, makes us compatible.
And being compatible means we exist together. Differently.