Coming Soon!

Sneak Preview for next week:

We will be featuring a Caucasian perspective on diversity and interaction interact to prove a balanced view.

In the mean time, please enjoy the variety of photos highlighting the intermingling and interaction of different cultures and objects, something we strive to create:

source: http://www.davidhorvitz.com/if/index.html

source: http://nerdmeritbadges.com/

source: http://www.rodel-la.com/

Finer Things Club?! source: http://www.thegeorge-hotel.de/deutsch/

source: http://www.isaacymanu.com/

source: http://www.slinkachu.com/

An Asian Perspective...

Growing up in Central New Jersey, I never really knew I was different. I recall my kindergarten class at Wildrow Haridge, where I was best friends with Jensen, a blond haired blue eyed girl, and Rebecca, an African American mix. We were best friends despite our different ethnicity. We were best friends because we did not know there was a difference between us. We were best friends because we thought we got a long well. We were friends without prejudice. As I got older, I soon began to sense a difference. My Caucasian friends and I lived almost different lives. They ate hamburgers, pasta, and meatloaf. I ate rice, lo mien, and eggs soaked in tea. We were friends but there was a disconnect in our lives beyond school, Pokemon, and Polly Pockets.

My first real encounter with prejudice that I remember was when I went shopping at the mall with my mother. I was around seven years old. My mother stood in the line to pay for the three cardigans that she had selected. Although there was no one in front of her, the cashier did not gesture for her to come up. Instead, the cashier glanced at my mom and continued to fold the various garments behind the counter. We waited patiently for five minutes. Another woman came to the line and stood next to us. The cashier quickly acknowledged her and asked her to come closer to the cash register to pay. The Caucasian woman had chestnut hair. My mother was furious with the service, so she slammed the cardigans, a flash of colors that thundered into the counter, and stormed out of the store. Bewildered, I stood shocked in line. I did not understand what had happened.

After catching up to my mother, I asked, “what happened mommy?”

I felt like someone had attached 100 pound weights to my heart as it began sink in my chest. Oh, how I will never forget the feeling of inferiority. Why would people treat you differently when we are all essentially the same. We both have eyes, ears, arms, legs, a stomach, toes, a brain, and, more importantly, a heart. Why can't the heart look beyond my appearances? I also recall other prejudiced encounters with others. Every time I feel different in a demeaning way or feel inferior as a result of another's actions, I get that same heavy feeling in my chest. I feel as though others immediately classify Asians as nerds that do not have lives, smell of hey-i-have-not-showered-in-days and old Chinese food. The worst stereotype is just the sense of being classified as the simple, the stark, the heinous: NASTY. No one wants to be nasty. I am not nasty, but people think because of my ethnicity that I am. It hurts me so much that I hope others don't experience the same. But they do.

Source: http://www.flickr.com/photos/jackspics/202148389/