I have people in my improv class who center me. I just need to hear them speak, and I’m zeroed in.
They’re black guys wearing big brown boots and cornrows, constantly blasting down the wall of racism and judgment I thought I was too conscious to have.
They’re white guys wearing big jackets and jeans 3 sizes too big, getting on stage and acting out a sex scene with another guy, free of homophobia.
They’re the guys who applaud me after I read my poem about my journey with sexuality, and pat me on the back in congratulations in the restroom after class.
They’re the people I judge, without thinking or reasoning, who later become my best friends.
I grew up thinking I was better than everyone. Smarter. More enlightened. Cooler. Better looking. I didn’t admit it to myself, but deep inside, I knew what I felt.
But now I see these people are beautiful. They are wordsmiths. They are masters of humility.
These people have shown me that I am the one stuck in the prejudices of my breeding.
I am the one who needs to learn from them.
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For some reason, i’m relating to this, i have a similar feeling, but its hard to put it together