Beyond What Meets the Eye
An image of my face highlighting the post title of “Beyond What Meets the Eye.”
Editor’s note: This post will continue to evolve as I do.
Welcome back, curious minds and kind hearts. Today we’re closing the chapter on the Racial & Ethnic Relations journal series.
For a bit of a visual, picture this: It’s the end of the semester. I’m flipping through months of journal entries. Ones that are messy, honest, and full of questions, and I’m trying to stitch them all together into something coherent for my final paper. I remember pausing often, collecting my thoughts, and doing my best to put into words an experience that felt bigger than life. At the time, I struggled to express myself clearly, but looking back, I hope my meaning comes across better now.
What I didn’t expect from the logbook and final paper was that it would become more than just an assignment. It became a window into lives I hadn’t lived, realities shaped by gender, race, and identity in ways I hadn’t fully seen before. Keeping track helped me realize how often people are judged, not by who they are, but by circumstances they never choose. This course wasn’t just about understanding systems. It was about unlearning assumptions, sitting with discomfort, and recognizing that the world doesn’t treat everyone the same, and it never has.
If you’ve been following along, you may have already read the previous four reflections: Track Record, Perspective in Progress, From Clueless to Conscious, and Everyday Bites. Each post captures a different layer of what I experienced while keeping the logbook. This final piece ties them all together. It’s also a part of my ongoing Past, Present, & Future series, where I revisit past writing with fresh eyes to reflect on how my thinking has evolved, and where I still hope to grow.
At the time, I didn’t realize how much this paper would reveal, not just about society, but about myself. It was one thing to read the material, but another to connect it to real conversations, lived moments, and uncomfortable truths I had overlooked. This wasn’t about guilt or blame. It was about understanding of how perspectives are shaped, how privilege quietly operates, and how easy it is to miss what was never ours to carry. As I revisit it now, I see how much I’ve changed, and how much I’m still learning. So, let’s start there.
Here is a quick glimpse into what I wrote for that final paper:
“It turned out to be more than just an end-of-semester assignment. It became a personal reflection of everything I’d absorbed throughout the course. Through journaling and class conversations, I began to see racism, privilege, and cultural dynamics in a newer light than I had seen before. I started the paper by admitting something simple but honest: I hadn’t realized how often race showed up in everyday life. It reminded me of that feeling when you buy a new car and suddenly you see it everywhere. Once I started paying attention, I couldn’t unsee it.
I also reflected on how my own upbringing shaped my understanding of the world. I recognized how a lack of exposure can lead to unintentional ignorance, and how being unaware doesn’t lesson the impact. I acknowledged white privilege, but also expressed hope in my generation’s growing openness to diversity and inclusion.
Some of the stories I shared were uncomfortable, including interactions with peers who made insensitive or outright prejudiced comments. But those moments stuck with me. They reminded me how easily bias can slip into everyday conversations, and how important awareness really is.
I also explored some bigger events like Ferguson. I tried to hold space for both my personal values and the collective calls for justice. I didn’t have all the answers then, and I still don’t, but I ended with the hope that if we lead with compassion, focus on our shared humanity, and stop centering only what divides us, change might be possible.”
Now I want to pause and reflect on the lessons that stood out to me the most:
The Power of Journaling
One of the most powerful lessons I took from this class was the value of reflection itself. Sitting with our thoughts, especially the uncomfortable ones, can stretch our understanding of our own lived experiences, shape our sense of identity, and uncover the quiet biases we carry.
Journaling is something I’ve done on and off for most of my life. It started when I learned that my aunt kept a journal, and I thought it was the coolest thing ever. So, I gave it a try. But I quickly realized that it was harder than it looked. Oftentimes, I didn’t know what to write and writing consistently was another challenge within itself. Still, there were seasons where I stuck with it.
Recently, I watched a video where someone talked about revisiting their old journals and being surprised by what they’d forgotten. In that moment, it reminded me of why I used to love journaling in the first place.
I’ve always been the nostalgic type, and for me, there’s something powerful about revisiting the past, not to dwell, but to remember key moments in time, to cherish old memories with loved ones, or to celebrate dreams and accomplishments achieved over the years. I personally think there’s wisdom buried in the moments we’d often overlook.
During that class, though, journaling felt more like a task. Something to check off. I wrote what I thought I was supposed to, not always what I genuinely felt. Back then, I was still learning how to be honest and to be fully present. Even though I had journaled before, I don’t think I understood just how impactful journaling could be. I thought journaling was more for remembering memories, documenting life events, or processing emotions. I didn’t yet see how it could help me challenge my own thinking, see patterns, or build empathy.
Today, I see journaling as more than just a class requierement. It’s become a way of holding myself accountable, recognizing areas where I still need to grow, and also being proud of how far I’ve come. Writing gives me space to slow down and sort through complex experiences, not to be perfect, but to be real.
It’s also one of the few ways I can truly see my own growth. I’m often surprised by what used to bother me, or what went right over my head. It’s a reminder that growth doesn’t always look like big revelations. Sometimes, it’s just learning to ask better questions.
If there was one thing I could’ve changed, it would’ve been to journal more consistently. I know there were moments I could’ve explored more deeply, whether to learn from, reflect on, or to be proud of.
Moving forward, I hope to make journaling a more regular and intentional practice. I want it to continue being a space where I can show up as I am without any pressure. Whether I’m writing daily or checking in when something feels worth unpacking. I hope it continues to hold space for my past, reflect where I am now, and gently guide me toward what’s next.
2. Learn Through Openness
Our stories, even the messy ones, shape who we are. Ignoring them feels like skipping a chapter that explains the rest of the book. When I get to know someone, I want to know everything about them: the good, the bad, the unexpected, and the hard-to-share parts. Why? Because without that honesty, we can’t really know each other. And if we’re not being real, we’re just skimming the surface.
In other words, when I let people into my world, I want them to experience it with me. I want to share the discomfort, support each other’s dreams, and really dive deep into what makes each of us, who we are. But oftentimes, guilt, shame, embarrassment, or fear, convinces us to stay quiet. To hide the vulnerable parts of ourselves. And that silence can be heartbreaking because it keeps us from real connection.
Growth and connection both ask for risk. Sometimes that means trusting others. Sometimes it means setting boundaries or stepping away from what no longer feels safe. It can look like taking time to heal, or learning when’re to speak up and when to listen. There’s no one way to go about it. But openness asks us to show up fully, even when it’s hard.
We aren’t meant to be perfect. We grow by acknowledging where we’ve been, what we’ve missed, and what we want to do better moving forward. Reflection isn’t about judgement, it’s about awareness and becoming something greater than we were before.
When I first wrote this paper, I thought I was open-minded. But looking back, I realize my mistake. At the time, I believed openness meant listening politely or staying neutral. What I’ve come to understand is that real openness is rooted in the willingness to be wrong, to stay curious, and to sit with discomfort instead of rushing to fix the situation.
Now, I see openness as courage. It’s not just about hearing others, it’s about examining your own lens. It’s about asking the hard questions even when you’re unsure how they’ll land. These days I try to be more intentional in conversation. I’m not afraid to change my mind. And if I catch myself becoming defensive, I take it as a cue to step back and pause from the situation before re-engaging.
I hope to keep growing in that kind of openness. The kind that doesn’t just aim to understand others but allows their stories to shift how I see the world. I want to be someone who asks better questions, listens longer, and keeps learning. Whether through writing, art, relationships, or work, I hope to create spaces where others feel safe doing the same. After all, openness isn’t a trait, it’s a practice. And it’s one I plan to keep showing up for.
3. Noticing Race More Often
While I have always noticed race, culture, and identity, I didn’t fully understand the depth or scale of the issue until I took this class. I had seen news stories and heard others share their experiences, but a part of me didn’t want to believe it. Not because I was ignorant, but because I was protecting myself. I’m sensitive by nature, and it felt easier to keep to myself than to hold the weight of it all. Still, I’ve learned that awareness requires more than just observation, it requires transparency, openness, and a willingness to ask hard questions with care.
When I first started writing this paper, I was surprised by how often race showed up, largely because I hadn’t paid close attention to it before. Once I began noticing, I couldn’t unsee it. I was shocked by how frequently race was used in a subtle, dismissive, or outright demeaning way. I expected the comments I overheard to be soft or vague, not so critical. That realization was a wake-up call. In my paper, I compared it to the feeling of buying a new car and suddenly seeing it everywhere. Once race became part of my awareness, I saw how deeply woven it is into everyday interactions through assumptions, stereotypes, and the language people use without thinking.
Today, I recognize seeing race differently than I once did. While I understand the value of awareness, I’ve also seen how limiting it can be. When we focus on constantly trying to categorize people by their race, ethnicity, identity, etc, we risk seeing labels before people. This only creates a greater divide. And I don’t know about you but I would rather we build bridges than barriers.
Sometimes, those labels feel like a glass ceiling, whether it’s the message that someone won’t be seen as good enough or the internalized belief that success isn’t meant for people like them. I don’t think the answer is to erase the difference. I believe in celebrating who we are. But when race becomes a tool for limitation rather than connection, it stops being about pride and starts becoming about power.
In the future, I hope I keep noticing, not just race, but how it shapes conversations, opportunities, and belonging. I want to keep noticing whose voice is missing from the room, whose voice goes unheard, and what that might reveal about the spaces we’re in. Beyond that, I hope I continue learning how to respond with compassion, curiosity, and thoughtful action. Because the more we notice, the more we can reshape what’s possible for everyone.
4. Admitting Naivete and Unintentional Ignorance
I touched on this earlier, but it’s worth returning to. In my original paper, I used terms like “naivety” and “unintentional ignorance,” but looking back, I don’t think I fully understood what I was trying to say. I was trying to explain something I hadn’t quite made sense of yet. Maybe the phrasing wasn’t perfect, but at the time, it was the best I could do.
Comprehension has never come easily to me. It’s something I’ve been working on more intentionally in recent years. I tend to mix up meanings, use words interchangeably, and get caught in how things are phrased. I often ask for clarification, not because I’m not paying attention, but because I want to understand deeply. That desire is something that’s always been there, even if the tools weren’t.
When I described myself as naive or ignorant, I wasn’t giving myself enough credit. I wasn’t careless or indifferent, I was doing the best I could with the understanding I had. What I lacked wasn’t awareness but the framework to name what I was sensing. I’ve always been thoughtful, but social and systematic issues are layered, and I didn’t have the context to unpack them clearly.
Now, I’m much more careful with how I talk about my past self. I see how easy it is to confuse “not knowing how to say something” with “not knowing at all.” There’s a big difference. While I still struggle with comprehension sometimes, I’ve grown more patient with myself. I understand now that learning isn’t linear, and even when I can’t articulate something perfectly, it doesn’t mean I’m not absorbing it.
Moving forward, I want to keep asking questions without apology. I want to keep giving myself permission to learn out loud, to revise my thinking as I go. And I hope others can do the same. Struggling to understand doesn’t make us unintelligent, it just makes us human. And that kind of humility might be the bridge we need to better understand one another.
5. Recognizing White Privilege
At the time I wrote this paper, I was just beginning to understand what white privilege meant. I acknowledged it, but I was still framing it mostly through what I personally hadn’t done, or how I had tried to treat others kindly. It felt abstract, like a concept that lived more in theory than in my daily reality. I didn’t quite know how to fully see the layers of unearned advantage, especially when I wasn’t actively seeking them. I wanted to be aware, I just didn’t know where to start. But this class is really where it all started for me.
Now, I see privilege not just as what we have, but what we don’t have to think about. I realize that the very ability to overlook race for so long is a kind of privilege. It doesn’t mean life has been easy or without struggle, but it does mean I’ve moved through the world without certain barriers others faced constantly. I still think there’s a lot of nuance to how privilege shows up. It’s not a one size fits all, but I’m more willing to sit with the discomfort of that truth instead of trying to explain it away.
Looking ahead, I hope to keep learning without becoming defensive. To recognize my role, not from a place of guilt, shame, or embarrassment, but from a place of responsibility. I want to use the awareness I’ve gained to listen better, to make space for others, and to be part of building systems where fewer people have to fight just to be seen and heard. And I hope that the conversation around privilege continues to make room for growth. So that it invites people in instead of shutting them down.
6. Lack of Diversity
When I first wrote about this, I remember feeling genuinely confused by the idea of a lack of diversity. I grew up in a neighborhood where people looked, spoke, and lived differently than I did. So, hearing phrases like “lack of exposure” or “living in a bubble” didn’t really resonate at first. It felt like I had already experienced diversity. But I was mainly looking at it from a surface level viewpoint, such as: skin color, languages, maybe traditions. Not necessarily how deeply systems, access, or generational experiences varied.
Looking back, I now see that diversity isn’t just about presence. It’s about power, equity, and visibility. Just because a space is racially or culturally mixed doesn’t mean everyone’s voice is equally valued or understood. I’ve come to realize that I may have been around differences, but that doesn’t mean I fully grasped its depth or impact. True diversity is more than demographic, it’s cultural, structural, and sometimes, invisible unless you know what to look for.
I hope to continue expanding how I define and notice diversity. And I hope to contribute to spaces where diversity isn’t just something we notice, but it’s something we nurture.
7. Insensitive Comments
At the time, I remember feeling uncomfortable but unsure of what to do. I knew the comments were wrong as they were racist, insensitive, or just plain ignorant, but I didn’t feel like it was my place to speak up. I worried about saying the wrong thing, or making the moment worse. So, I stayed quiet. I think part of me didn’t fully understand the impact those words could have, especially if no one challenged them.
Looking back, I see those moments differently now. While it might not have been “my place” to educate someone, silence can sometimes feel like agreement. I don’t blame my past self for freezing up, but I do recognize the missed opportunity. Even something small, like saying “That’s not okay” could’ve shifted the tone or shown support. I now believe that moments like those can be invitations for reflection, if approached with care.
In the future, I hope I’ll feel more prepared to respond even if it’s not perfectly. I want to focus on being more intentional. I also want to continue to be the kind of person who speaks up when something doesn’t sit right. It’s better to try than to be silent, in my opinion. But most of all, I hope that each and every one of us continues learning how to create space for growth, especially when it’s uncomfortable.
8. Subtle or Overt Biases
Back then, I don’t think I fully noticed the subtle biases in school. Maybe it was because I wasn’t directly targeted, or maybe I hadn’t developed the awareness yet to name what was happening. There were things I questioned, like who got picked for leadership roles, or which students were praised the most, but I didn’t always connect those patterns to race or bias. It just seemed like “the way things were.”
Now, I see those moments with more clarity. What once felt like random or personal choices now looks like part of a bigger pattern of who gets seen, who gets doubted, and who’s expected to stay quiet. Bias in school doesn’t always show up loudly. It can be in lowered expectations, in how stories are told in the classroom, or in who’s asked to “represent” an entire group. Subtle doesn’t mean harmless. It shapes how students see themselves and how others see them too.
Going forward, I hope that future classrooms and schools create more space for every student to be seen for who they really are, not just a stereotype, not a statistic, and not just part of a box to check. I hope educators (and the rest of us) keep questioning our own assumptions. And I hope we stay committed to making learning a place where all students, regardless of race, culture, or background, feel genuinely respected and supported.
9. National News
When I first learned about Ferguson, I remember feeling confused and overwhelmed. I didn’t fully understand the depth of what was happening or why people were reacting so strongly. While the loss of life wasn’t lost on me, I was trying to make sense of something that felt both distant and deeply emotional. I knew it mattered, but I couldn’t yet grasp the full weight of the history, pain, or urgency behind it.
Looking back now, I see how much context I was missing. Ferguson wasn’t just about one incident, it was a turning point, exposing years of built-up frustration, injustice and mistrust. I understand a lot more of the emotional anguish. It wasn’t just about anger, it was about being unheard for far too long.
In the future, I hope that more of us take the time to listen before we judge. That we lean into discomfort instead of turning away. I hope we create more space for hard conversations, not to blame, but to build understanding.
10. Criminology Experiment
In this part of the paper, I brought up a peer’s criminology experiment on policing. Upon looking back, however, I’m not quite sure what I was really trying to say. I recognize that I tend to repeat things I’ve heard, not to sound smart, but in hopes of sparking a conversation or learning other people’s perspectives. At the time, that was probably my way of joining in, even if I didn’t fully grasp the context.
Today, I see the value in slowing down before echoing something. I still believe in using conversation as a learning tool, but I’ve grown more aware of the responsibility that comes with sharing things, especially when the topic is nuanced or sensitive. It’s okay not to have all the answers, but it’s also okay to say, “I don’t know” or “I’m not sure.”
My hope is to continue engaging with curiosity. I want to start conversations from a place of understanding, not just reaction. The goal isn’t to have the perfect response, but to create space for meaningful dialogue rooted in humility and growth.
11. Call For Human Connection
I ended this paper with a sense of hope. A belief that compassion, shared humanity, and focusing on what connects us could lead to real change. At the time, that felt like the most important takeaway. We need to see each other as humans first, beyond labels and assumptions.
And while that hope still holds true today, it feels more complex now. I’ve come to realize that connection isn’t just about kindness. It’s about effort. It’s about showing up, listening when it’s uncomfortable, and choosing to stay curious instead of becoming defensive. Connection doesn’t happen by accident. It’s built when we meet each other with honesty and empathy.
Looking ahead, I hope we keep choosing to connect, not just when it’s easy, but when it’s difficult. I want to be someone who makes others feel seen, and I hope others are willing to do the same. If we can do that, maybe we can shift the way we live and lead, together.
As we close this chapter, I hope this journey through my Past, Present, & Future reflections offers a reminder that there’s always more Beyond What Meets the Eye. Our experiences, biases, and perspectives shape how we see the world, but if we remain open, willing to reflect, and ready to learn, we can uncover deeper understanding and connection.
This process isn’t easy. It’s not about perfection or having all the answers. It’s about embracing the complexity of our shared humanity and moving forward with empathy and curiosity. And it’s about recognizing that while the world doesn’t treat everyone the same, it should give everyone a real chance, even if it means different approaches for different people. So, here’s to continuing the conversation, growing together, and seeing beyond the surface, one thoughtful step at a time.
As a signature of my blog, I’d like to end this post with a suggestion to “Pass on kindness.” There’s no time like the present to Inspire Those Who Inspire You. Acts of kindness, no matter how big or small, can have a direct, positive impact on someone else. Go out there today and change someone’s life for the better!
***These are my personal opinions and may not be those of my employer.***
