From Clueless to Conscious
A young, innocent, clueless version of me to represent this post “From Clueless to Conscious.”
Editor’s note: This post will continue to evolve as I do.
Welcome back, curious minds, wanders souls, and compassionate hearts, to another chapter in my Past, Present, & Future series. Lately, as I flip through the old pages of my sociology journals, I am realizing just how much our understanding of race and identity can shift with time. Moments I once brushed past now feel heavier. Almost like missed lessons that waited patiently for me to notice. What felt casual or unimportant years ago now shapes how I view others, and even how I understand myself.
Today’s reflections are about those subtle but defining moments. Moments that gently, or not so gently, pushed me from cluelessness to consciousness. So, if you are ready to continue this journey, let’s dive into the next entries together.
Over the past week, I have been trying to spark deeper, more thought-provoking conversations through Instagram polls. I asked what people believe creates real change around bias and understanding. One follower, who will remain unnamed, offered a perspective that has been sitting with me. They reminded me that without moving past surface-level representations, we cannot get to the heart of honest conversations, education, or real accountability.
It is a simple point, but one that feels easy to overlook. How do we push beyond just appearances to create space for honest dialogue? And I am still sitting with that question. Honestly, I would love to hear more perspectives from others too. Sometimes it is the quiet insights from unexpected places that shift your thinking the most.
Personally, I think the most powerful learning happens through our own experiences. Except when that is not possible, listening to someone else’s story is the next closest thing. There is something about personal stories that cut through theory and make things real. But I have also come to realize… that it is not always possible. Sometimes people are not ready or willing to share. Sometimes they do not feel like they have something to add. Or maybe they are just too tired to explain themselves yet again.
In these moments, I have learned it is okay to look elsewhere from books, interviews, podcasts. Sometimes learning has to come from listening at a distance. What matters is keeping yourself open to understanding, however that understanding finds you.
Before we dive in, take a second to think about your own answer: what has helped shape how you see the world? Your own experiences? Stories from others? Or something else entirely?
And if you are just joining us, this post continues from my Past, Present, & Future series, where I have been revisiting old journal entries from my college Racial and Ethnic Relations class. In other words, a project that quietly started shifting my perspective years ago. If you missed the earlier posts, you can catch up here and here.
Just a quick reminder as we move forward: while these journal entries include real observations and conversations, I will always protect people’s privacy. This means no names, dates, or identifying details will ever be shared.
In each post, I am not just sharing what I noticed back then, but also how I see those same moments now, and where I hope we are all headed.
So if you are ready, let’s pick up right where we left off last time.
For some context, I saw a Facebook post about a white college student who was reportedly kidnapped by a Black man. Within my own reflection, I said my favorite part of this entry was the comments. To clarify, I did not mean that I was enjoying the heated race discussions during such a serious situation. Rather I was more so curious about the different viewpoints people shared and wanted to understand the range of perspectives in that conversation.
With this entry in particular, I will not list every comment, but there was a back-and-forth about whether race should even matter in the first place. Some said things like, “There is so much hate in this world. If one person recognizes their ignorance, maybe others will follow. We need to pray for all the families.” Others pushed back, saying, “Whites do not bring it up, so now we have to because we have to stand up for ourselves.” One person even referenced public figures, arguing that some only “hold the race card,” so that is why “we bring up color.”
Then there were voices urging people to stop with the “race card,” reminding everyone that the suspect was identified based on evidence, not skin color, and that justice should be blind to race. But others accused “White folks of always trying to trap the Black guy.”
Seeing these comments made me realize how deeply complex and charged discussions about race are, especially in moments that are raw and emotional.
Looking back at my reflection from that time, I remember agreeing with those who questioned why race was even mentioned in that article. It almost felt unnecessary. I am not saying race is not important, but the way the author included it made me wonder, “Why bring that up?” They could have simply said, “This is the suspect in custody.” I think in America, because of our history, we tend to make race a bigger deal than it needs to be. But if we want to move forward, we have to stop separating people like that. Just say, “This is the person in custody.”
Reading this journal page again, I realize my thoughts were not very clear back then. I was not really saying race should be included in the article. What I agree with was the idea some commenters shared that mentioned that the person’s race in this situation only made people more divided and pushed the conversation toward race unnecessarily. Really, there should have been less focus on skin color and more on compassion and condolences for the families affected.
Nowadays, it feels like almost everything gets pulled into politics. Whether it is a disaster, a personal story, or current events, there is this rush to attach agendas or blame. Take the recent flooding across the US. Instead of focusing on the people and the communities who have lost so much, the conversation quickly shifts to who's responsible or who is not doing enough. Regardless of where you stand politically, we can all agree that what is really needed is support and compassion in tough times.
So, you might be wondering how this ties back to race and ethnicity. Well, just like with the flood coverage, the comments on that kidnapping article were split. Some said race should be included, others said it should not be, and only a few focused purely on the families and their pain. What I am realizing now is that moments like these, what matters most is choosing empathy and support over debates or opinions that will not change the situation. Because honestly, arguing with strangers just adds exhaustion and it does not help anyone.
My hope is that, moving forward, we move away from labeling people or fitting them into neat little boxes. Instead, we recognize that every person is multi-dimensional and layered. None of us fit just one narrative. It is okay for our beliefs to evolve as we grow, and it is possible to understand someone else’s perspective without having to agree with it. After all, we are all paradoxical beings by nature. The more we can sit with that complexity, the more progress we will make.
With all that in mind, the importance of seeing people as layered, complex beings, can be hard. Particularly when reality reminds you how often people are still judged by just one aspect of themselves. That brings me to the next journal entry. This one struck closer to home, as it involved someone I had known since childhood, who was sharing her own frustration about discrimination her younger brother faced.
Looking back, I realize I included far more detail in this journal entry than was probably necessary. To sum it up: a childhood friend of mine, someone I have known since kindergarten, shared her anger on Facebook about her younger brother facing discrimination at his high school. So, she posted, “I AM SO INFURIATED AT THE FACT THAT MY YOUNGER BROTHER GOT DISCRIMINATED AT SCHOOL BECAUSE THE COLOR OF HIS SKIN. IT DISGUSTS ME THAT SCHOOLS CAN LET THIS NOT ONLY HAPPEN BUT HIRE PEPOLE LIKE THIS. MY BLOOD IS BOILING.”
Now, there is where things get a bit questionable, not in her reaction (she absolutely had every right to be angry and speak out) but in my own reflection at the time. Apparently, I thought I had experienced racism myself. For context, I am white. That is not to say white people cannot face discrimination, but honestly, I have no memory of what incident I was referring to here. So right from the start, my reflection was a bit shaky. Then, I shifted into talking about being bullied, which, looking back, was not anything I would label as serious. And yet, in my journal, I somehow turned her brother’s experience into a reason to go on my own tangent. I even made it sound like her brother’s high school had personally wronged me, which was not the case at all. Let’s just say… I went pretty off-topic. I started venting other experiences and random stories I had heard.
I think, at the time, I was just trying to relate to my old friend, maybe trying to show I understood unfairness by sharing things I had seen or heard about. But now, I realize it was not the right time or place for that, even in a class journal. I lost sight of the main point here: race. That was the whole reason for the reflection in the first place.
Reading this back now, it is honestly frustrating. Imagine living your life, and suddenly something happens that puts the focus on your skin color, not the real issue. I cannot fully grasp what that feels like. But it upsets me knowing that people can be treated differently over something so surface-level, especially at an age where your sense of self is still forming. While I recognize there is often more to the story, I have come to see that the right response in moments like this is simple: be human. Be compassionate. Stand with the person who is hurting, and help make sure the situation is addressed better going forward. It is hard for anyone to stay strong when they feel alone.
Looking ahead, I hope we, not just you, not just me, start leading with empathy, emotional intelligence, and basic respect. We need to learn to meet people at least halfway, and if we are capable of giving more, than we should. Otherwise, we risk closing ourselves off, becoming more defensive, more negative, and frankly, less happy. Personally, I want to live in a world where happiness and freedom feel real. Where simple acts of kindness actually matter. But if we are too afraid to be open, to share uncomfortable or challenging experiences, we will just keep ourselves stuck. And that negativity eventually spreads. You have heard the saying, “hurt people, hurt people.” If we lose compassion entirely, what kind of world are we left with?
With all that said, sometimes conversations about race do not happen in classrooms or formal settings. They show up in everyday life, even in the media we consume. This next journal entry reflects on a moment from a reality TV show that, at first glance, seemed lighthearted but actually carried subtle insights about race and cultural assumptions. Let me explain.
This next journal entry is about a moment from a reality show I watched. The episode featured four friends spending a day on the boat, which suddenly started taking on water at the front. The white friend immediately panicked, joking that she thought she was going to be eaten by the Loch Ness monster. Meanwhile, the Black friend made a comment saying, “They must have switched races,” explaining how Black people, according to him, usually just react without asking questions. They just want to get out of there, just like the white friend did in that moment.
Although I did not add a reflection back then, I thought this was an important situation to log. This one touches on stereotypes about Black people. Now, I know this might be controversial but stereotypes often form because there have been enough instances of a group behaving a certain way that people start making quick judgements on that. We can debate whether those stereotypes are true or not, but doing so would distract from the situation and probably would not help anyway. At the time, I found the comment more funny because of that friend’s personality rather than anything else. But now, I realize he was fully aware of the stereotypes and the situation yet he did not let it upset him. Instead, he made a lighthearted joke amid the chaos and panic. A moment that was just perfect for television.
In the future, I hope we handle situations like this with grace, humor, or patience when we are tested, ridiculed, or misjudged. Most of the time, it is not as serious as our emotions might tell us in the moment. It is healthier to notice the good than to stay stuck in a negative mindset. That said, I know it is not always easy. We all carry experiences that shape us, some fully healed and some still tender. There should not be guilt, shame, or embarrassment in admitting we are still healing. Our emotions are part of what makes us human. Ignoring or denying them, whether because of others or ourselves, tells us we are “too much” or “asking for too much.” But that is simply not true. You cannot fix what you will not admit is broken, and you cannot heal what you refuse to feel.
As these reflections build, I am starting to see how conversations, whether casual or serious, reveal hidden layers about race, identity, and belonging. They are often moments I overlooked at the time, yet looking back, they held quiet lessons. This next journal entry brings me to one of those smaller but equally eye-opening moments: a simple chat with friends that challenged my assumptions about my own school experience.
The fourth entry I am sharing today reflects on a casual conversation I had with friends about where we each went to high school. One friend, who was Latina, shared her experience attending a newer school that was predominantly white, though over time more Indian students began enrolling. Another friend, who was Indian, talked about how at her school, she was one of only a handful with her background. When it came to me, I shared the name of my high school, and was surprised when both of them reacted with concern. They had heard negative things about my school. Before I could explain or reflect much further, I had to leave, presumably for class.
At the time, I did not log a formal reflection. Hearing their experiences was honestly a wake-up call. I had grown up thinking most people saw the world the way I did: that we cared about people for who they were, not for what race or ethnicity they were born into. I believed we all loved people for their presence, their personality, not their labels. But more recently, I have realized not everyone carries the same heart or intentions. Back then, I was not closed-minded or deliberately ignorant, I simply could not grasp something I had never experienced firsthand. I could not imagine someone being treated differently for something so far beyond their control. It took time to understand just how deeply race and identity are woven into the fabric of society.
In the past, I saw this class as a way to challenge my thinking and hear perspectives from people of different cultures, which aligned with my interest in international studies. But honestly, I did not know what to expect. I was naive and in many ways, privileged. Issues of race was not something I had experienced firsthand. Looking back, I am grateful I took that class. Without it, I am not sure I would have connected the dots as clearly. While hearing personal stories can be powerful, sometimes even life-changing, it is hard to fully emphasize without the mindset or experience to understand. That class became the starting point for my continued learning and growth.
There is one memory that still lingers in my mind. One of those moments that forces you to see the world differently. A friend and I had decided to take a walk around the lake, and on the way back, we stopped at a small gas station out in the middle of nowhere. At the time, I would have considered it “redneck country,” but really, it was just remote. The moment my friend, a Black woman, stepped out of the car, I could feel it: the weight of people’s eyes on us. She felt it too. I could tell by the way she gripped her keys a little tighter. Without even thinking, I offered to walk inside with her while she paid for gas. Once we stepped through the door, it was like we had stepped onto a stage. Every person inside, stared at us like we were something unfamiliar. Almost like we were out of place. I remember feeling like we had become some kind of exhibit. I cannot recall exactly what was said, but I remember the vibe. A sense that people like us, Black and white, side by side, did not belong together. It was an idea I could not even fathom. I was lucky to have this friend. Still, it is hard to put into words how surreal, how unbelievable that moment felt. But it stuck with me.
Looking ahead, I hope we learn to genuinely appreciate differences rather than letting them divide us. That does not just apply to race or culture. It applies to every part of life. Let me explain. Around the same time, my roommates and I were talking about life, relationships, and we ended up playing, “Never Have I Ever".” If you not know the game, you put of 10 fingers and go around letting everyone making a statement. If you have done the activity mentioned, you put a finger down. But if you have not, you leave it up. The first one to put down all 10 fingers loses. At one point, the topic shifted toward relationships and casual hookups, the whole “Netflix and chill” conversation. I admitted I had never done that. Honestly, I expected judgment or at least some teasing. But instead, my roommates praised me. They reminded me that it is okay to make difficult choices and still be accepted. That moment really clicked something for me. It is that we do not have to share the same values to respect one another. We can recognize someone’s individual path without shaming or judging them. So, my hope is simple. Stop letting society, or other people, decide what is right for you. Make choices that fit you. And when you meet up with people who respect that? Keep them close. Those are the people worth having in your corner.
The idea of accepting differences, and the challenges that come with them, reminds me of a story I came across that really highlights how complicated race and privilege can be. It shows that sometimes, people’s expectations do not match reality, especially when it comes to race. With that in mind, the final journal entry I will share today involves a situation where a white couple adopted a biracial child, and how their struggles reveal some harsh truths about biracial identity in America.
The final journal entry I will share today is about a white couple who adopted a biracial child. Before the adoption, they reportedly requested that their child have blond hair and blue eyes to resemble their family. However, when they ended up with a half-Black baby, they were reportedly upset and later sued, claiming they did not know how to raise a Black child, citing challenges like caring for their hair. The lawsuit seems to stem from the “racial problems” the parents are now facing as their child begins to understand the harsh, racist realities of American society. Essentially, dealing with Blackness has become a burden and inconvenience for these two white mothers, as the biracial child disrupted their long-standing experience of white privilege.
At the time, my reflection on this was pretty straightforward: I thought it was ridiculous. I mean, how can you be picky about having a child when you cannot have one at all? They should be grateful. Sure, mistakes happen, and I doubt anyone deliberately gave them a child they did not want based on race. But you would think that they would consider how this rejection would affect the child years down the line. Imagine realizing your own parents did not want you because you did not fit in their expectations? And then, they decided to sue. What kind of message does that send?
Looking back, my point was not that the couple could not be selective, but rather they should be grateful for the child regardless of race. If I put myself in the shoes of someone who could not have biological children but was accepted to adopt, I would be overjoyed, not upset that the child did not look like I expected. I would see it as a miracle. That said, I wonder if they were clearly informed about what to expect. Was a sperm donor involved? I realize now I left out a lot of the details and would want to know more before rushing to judgement. Personally, I think it is positive they recognized the challenges that come with raising a biracial child, and they seemed to understand the long-term realities. Still, based on what I read, I believe they could have handled the situation with more sensitivity. But that is just my two cents.
Now, reading this back, I find myself even more curious about the full context of the situation. It is easy to form an opinion either way, but it is more nuanced when you realize the couple may have been promised one thing and received another. That is a major life change. It is not something temporary. Still, I stand by what I said before of how they could have handled it better. Adopting a child, no matter what, is a profound gift. They could have seen it as a learning opportunity for themselves and their child. In the end, it should not have been reduced to race. But, as the saying goes, hindsight is 20/20.
In the future, I hope we move toward seeing people as individuals first without the automatic impulse to categorize them by race, religion, ethnicity, or any other trait unless context genuinely calls for it. Ideally, we learn to value and love people for who they are, not what society labels them as.
Looking back through these reflections. It is clear how my understanding has shifted from being largely unaware of the everyday realities tied to race and identity, to gradually recognizing how deeply embedded these issues are in our society and interactions. The title “From Clueless to Consciousness” really captures that journey. In the past, I operated from good intentions but limited perspective. In the present, I see how easily biases, stereotypes, and systematic issues surface in both personal stories and public events. And looking to the future, my hope is to stay grounded in compassion and growth, not just for myself, but for all of us. If we can stay open, willing to learn, and focus more on shared humanity rather than surface-level differences, we will be better equipped to create a more understanding and connected world.
I hope this reflection gave you something to think about. Stay tuned for next week’s post, where I will be exploring a new set of experiences and lessons by continuing this journey from unawareness to understanding. See you then!
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.***
