\’pre-jə-dəs\, prej-u-dice, or praejudicium, however it is said, it will always mean the same thing; human beings need for some intense sensitivity training. I can remember all of my teachers from grades 1-7 telling me, “Don’t judge a book by its cover.” This statement of course, acted as a heartfelt document covering, The Life and Times of Martin Luther King Jr. I never understood it. I would inquire upon my teachers as to why people would act that way towards others just because they looked different. Most of my teachers would put on their most sincere face and reply, “Because our ignorance and insensitivity lead to many years of completely unnecessary conflict,” and then carry on explaining prejudice and discrimination. At the time, my ‘young’ brain simply took it in without any question and continued to absorb more pieces of information. When I was in 12th grade, I had an experience that would jolt me just hard enough to change my outlook on racial prejudice and analyze this data that I’d assumed was correct my whole entire life.
My story begins in Tacoma, a calm and peaceful little city nearly devoid of tragic happenings. The dark winter night had settled; my friends and I were walking through a darkness surrounded by cars and apartment buildings that are several stories high. Coming to a halt, our little troop began to form a circle, which was our outdoor formation that would permit conversation and socialization. We talked for a bit. I’ve forgotten who it was, but one of us turned around, spotting others who looked to be about our age. They were two African-Americans, dressed in clothes that represented the modern “American gangster” or to that extent of style. After a few seconds of staring, we slowly turned back, losing interest without a single thought of fear, panic, or alarm and just about forgetting they had even been there. But these thought could only last for a few more seconds, because the others had already begun heading our way. A simple...