Xavier University of Louisiana: XULA Digital Commons

Vo, Vivi An

Masthead Logo Pathways
Volume 2016
Issue 1 2015-2016 Article 18
2019
Shocked into Growth
Vivi An Vo
Xavier University of Louisiana, pathways@xula.edu
Follow this and additional works at: https://digitalcommons.xula.edu/pathways_journal
This Essay is brought to you for free and open access by XULA Digital Commons. It has been accepted for inclusion in Pathways by an authorized
editor of XULA Digital Commons. For more information, please contact ksiddell@xula.edu.
Recommended Citation
Vo, Vivi An (2019) "Shocked into Growth," Pathways: Vol. 2016 : Iss. 1 , Article 18.
Available at: https://digitalcommons.xula.edu/pathways_journal/vol2016/iss1/18
 
Vivi An Vo 
Shocked Into Growth 
I have lived in New Orleans for my entire life. To me, a hurricane was a common and 
enjoyable occurrence, that is, if you were not in the storm. My family always evacuated for any 
and every hurricane that came near the Louisiana coast. For six-year-old me, “evacuation” would 
not be the right word to describe hurricane season. Instead I considered it an impromptu vacation 
season, by which I mean that if there were a hurricane, then my family got to go on a vacation in 
the middle of the school year. I did not understand the violent power of a hurricane when I was 
younger. I had never before seen New Orleans get hit by a category-five hurricane, so I did not 
understand the potential destructive power of Hurricane Katrina. 
My family evacuated just like for every other hurricane, and I thought nothing of the 
constant newscasts. I did not understand my parents’ grim look as they aired images of the winds 
and flood. Katrina seemed to be just like every other hurricane that had passed New Orleans 
before 2005. BOY! WAS I WRONG! The people around me in Houston, where I evacuated to, 
pitied me, and I did not understand why. Only when we were able to return home to New 
Orleans did I understand. My city was in ruins. Hurricane Katrina left my new house, which we 
only lived in for two years, battered. Katrina flooded half of my grandparents’ house and left a 
strong moldy odor in the dead air. The storm caused my parents’ grocery store in the Garden 
District to be flooded and looted. We were financially incapable of repairing two houses and a 
business at one time. We had to let our business go, and lost our only source of income. The 
small amount of FEMA money we got went to repairing and restoring my grandparents’ house. 
My parents sold our new home that my father worked so hard on to refurbish two years prior. 
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We sold it at a low price so that we were able to survive and continue restoring my grandparents’ 
house. 
Eleven years later, I do not hate Katrina for turning my life upside down. My family was 
able to survive and get back on our feet. I am grateful for that and all that I have now. To know 
feelings of loss and helplessness was a shock, but later inspired growth for my family. We 
learned to thank God for what we have, and take great solace in the fact that we still had each 
other and were able to get through the hardship intact. I learned to try to understand and 
sympathize with others whose post--Katrina aftermath was much more devastating than my own. 
I keep the lessons Katrina taught me and try to build upon them everyday. Though I did miss 
having the grocery store I grew up in, the dream house with chandeliers and marble flooring, and 
the nice school I once went to, I accepted my losses and have moved on as a stronger and more 
vibrant human being. 
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English

Shocked into Growth

Boatner, Daylin

Masthead Logo Pathways
Volume 2014
Issue 1 2013-2014 Article 3
2019
We Are All The Same
Daylin Boatner
Xavier University of Louisiana, pathways@xula.edu
Follow this and additional works at: https://digitalcommons.xula.edu/pathways_journal
This Essay is brought to you for free and open access by XULA Digital Commons. It has been accepted for inclusion in Pathways by an authorized
editor of XULA Digital Commons. For more information, please contact ksiddell@xula.edu.
Recommended Citation
Boatner, Daylin (2019) "We Are All The Same," Pathways: Vol. 2014 : Iss. 1 , Article 3.
Available at: https://digitalcommons.xula.edu/pathways_journal/vol2014/iss1/3
Daylin Boatner 
We Are All the Same 
 “Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve.” “Adam and Eve, not Eve and Evelyn.” 
Homosexuality, defined as sexual desire or behavior directed toward a person or persons of one’s 
own sex, had always been displayed to me as a bad thing. My family and fellow church members 
all had similar thoughts on people who are gay, and because I wasn’t exactly educated on the 
topic, I began to believe exactly as they did: that being gay wasn’t right. “Gays don’t believe in 
God.” “Gays go to hell.” “Being gay is a sin.” It all seemed simple to me; stay away from  
homosexuals. However, as I grew older my whole perspective changed. I began to question my 
parents, the church members, and my initial beliefs on the topic of homosexuality. I pondered the 
mistreatment of persons due to their sexual orientation, and I was confused as to why liking or 
falling in love with a person of the same sex was greater than any other sin. It didn’t register to 
me that I had been taught to hate people because of something so simple.  
 I attended Sherwood Middle Academic Magnet School, in Baton Rouge, and this junior 
high was nothing like what I had seen on television at the time. I never expected to encounter 
such a plethora of personalities all at once, nor did I expect to have to interact with homosexuals 
on a daily basis. I began to befriend homosexuals. I didn't see any difference between them and 
me besides their sexual orientation. We liked the same music, had similar hobbies, and had so 
much fun together. These were my friends. They weren’t “the devil.” They believed in God as 
much as I did, which is why it baffled me that I had been previously told they did not. Because 
these were my friends, I invited them to my house for a sleepover, which was what teenagers 
typically did. On the day before the sleepover, in excitement, I began to describe my friends to 
my parents.  
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 Mistakenly, I forgot not to mention that they were gay. My parents were not having it! 
The sleepover was cancelled. They yelled at me for making such a poor decision when it came to 
choosing whom I wanted to be friends with. They explained to me how I “am” the company I  
keep, and that if I hung around my friends, I would be classified as being gay also, even though I 
wasn’t. They reminded me of the Bible’s take on the subject of homosexuality, which is that 
homosexuality is a sin. I didn't understand. Through my tears, I attempted to tell my parents how 
my friends were just like me. They didn't understand. The following morning in the courtyard, I 
was forced to tell my friends about the events that had taken place the previous night. I had never 
seen so many sad and confused faces all at once. We could not interpret what was so wrong 
about being one’s self because that is what we had also been taught. But, how could one possibly 
be oneself in a world that judges us because of who we are? At that moment, everyone became 
hypocritical to me. My experience inspired me to research what exactly made “us” any better 
than “them.” I found the answer to be absolutely nothing. My pastor had preached for years 
about the subject but failed to mention that divorce was a more harsh sin than homosexuality in 
the Bible. My family failed to realize that discrimination and hate were also sins. They forgot 
that God expressed how we should love one another as our brothers and sisters, regardless of our 
differences. My friends remained my friends because they were exactly that--my friends. Their 
sexual orientation had nothing to do with me, and I vowed to myself that I would never again 
take on the beliefs of someone else about a topic without doing the proper research for myself.  
 After my experience in middle school, I no longer believed the ignorant facts directed 
towards homosexuals. I know plenty gays now, and although all of them may not be saints, 
neither am I. No one is perfect. We lead our lives according to what we believe to be morally 
good and bad based on the Bible’s text. However, I believe that people are often belligerent to 
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the fact that the Bible states, a sin is a sin. No one sin is bigger than another and after repentance, 
our sins are forgiven. I am now educated on the topic of homosexuality, and that alone has 
changed my entire perspective on what I had thought to be a deadly sin.  
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We Are All The Same

Gooden, Marissa

Masthead Logo Pathways
Volume 2014
Issue 1 2013-2014 Article 7
2019
A Change in Perspective on Minimum Wage
Marissa Gooden
Xavier University of Louisiana, pathways@xula.edu
Follow this and additional works at: https://digitalcommons.xula.edu/pathways_journal
This Essay is brought to you for free and open access by XULA Digital Commons. It has been accepted for inclusion in Pathways by an authorized
editor of XULA Digital Commons. For more information, please contact ksiddell@xula.edu.
Recommended Citation
Gooden, Marissa (2019) "A Change in Perspective on Minimum Wage," Pathways: Vol. 2014 : Iss. 1 , Article 7.
Available at: https://digitalcommons.xula.edu/pathways_journal/vol2014/iss1/7
Marissa Gooden  
A Change in Perspective 
When I hear the term “minimum wage”, I tend to associate this word with a low-skill 
entry-level job, like janitor, fast food worker, or valet parker. In the United States, the minimum 
wage is $7.25, and some states go slightly lower, higher, or do not have a minimum wage at all. I 
have always thought that minimum wage was fair compensation for the people who received it 
because I felt your paycheck should reflect your degree of education. That is why a doctor, a 
teacher, and a lawyer make more than a garbage man and a dishwasher. I not only thought 
minimum wage was fair, but I also believed the jobs associated with minimum wage were not as 
valuable to society compared to higher paying occupations. That is why the president is lionized 
by the public, and a bus boy is not. I never saw the flaw in my perspective until I attended a 
Bridge Builders evet.  
Bridge Builders is a leadership program in Memphis, Tennessee, that brings youth from 
all over the city together to work at creating a community free of injustices. At one session, we 
talked about minimum wage versus living wage. Living wage is the minimum salary a worker 
needs for the essential basics--food, shelter, and clothing. It does not include luxuries, like cable 
TV and dining out and excludes money for the unexpected expenses like a car repair. This was 
my first time ever hearing this term, and this new knowledge changed my whole perspective on 
minimum wage. At this meeting, I learned that minimum wage is lower than living wage in 
many places including Memphis. In fact, they told us there have been a large number of families 
living under living wage since 1999. We also discussed whether or not it was inhumane to pay 
these people wages that are not even sufficient enough for the necessities of life. Are they less 
human than we are because of a job title? This group discussion caused me to do a lot of thinking 
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about minimum wage jobs and the people who work them. I now view minimum wage as unjust, 
and I gained a new respect for the people who have a minimum wage job. I feel that paying these 
workers a salary lower than the cost of living in that city is saying that they do not deserve the 
basic necessities of human beings, implying they are less than human.  
This injustice reminds me of the Memphis Sanitation Workers of 1968. These workers, 
mostly African American, were being paid low wages and worked under dangerous conditions. 
The protesters’ slogan was “I am a Man.” This phrase suggested that just because a person has a 
certain label, like skin color or job title, does not make him or her less of a man or woman than 
the next, and everyone deserves respectable treatment. This is not to say a garbage man deserves 
the same paycheck as a surgeon, but garbage men should earn a wage equivalent to the cost of 
living and should be respected for what they do because every job contributes to society. After 
that Bridge Builder group discussion, I showed a greater appreciation for those workers with 
minimum wage jobs. I smile and talk to them and thank them for all that they do. I even gave the 
garbage men a thank-you card that week after Bridge Builders. My changed perspective allowed 
me to gain a new respect for these people I saw on a daily basis.  
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A Change in Perspective on Minimum Wage

Johnson, Malan

Masthead Logo Pathways
Volume 2014
Issue 1 2013-2014 Article 10
2019
A New Perspective
Malan Johnson
Xavier University of Louisiana, pathways@xula.edu
Follow this and additional works at: https://digitalcommons.xula.edu/pathways_journal
This Essay is brought to you for free and open access by XULA Digital Commons. It has been accepted for inclusion in Pathways by an authorized
editor of XULA Digital Commons. For more information, please contact ksiddell@xula.edu.
Recommended Citation
Johnson, Malan (2019) "A New Perspective," Pathways: Vol. 2014 : Iss. 1 , Article 10.
Available at: https://digitalcommons.xula.edu/pathways_journal/vol2014/iss1/10
Malan Johnson 
A New Perspective 
Throughout my life, I never understood why my parents were always on me about 
everything that I did, whether it was good or bad. I always asked myself, why does everything I 
do have to be wrong? I just did not understand how and why I was always doing something 
wrong. Sometimes I would try to argue whatever I was doing was right, but they would always 
come back saying they were just trying to make me a better person. Even though they always 
said that they would never tell me something to hurt me but help me, I never listened to them 
until I got to my senior year of high school. Most of my life I could not understand why I was 
always doing wrong, but it was because I didn’t listen to what they had to say. Instead, I was 
focused on how I was right and why they did not see that.  
All of my life, my mom and dad have been teaching me how to make the right choices, so 
that I could make the right choice on my own once I’m older. They taught me what was right and 
wrong by questioning me to see if I knew what I was getting myself into at the time. One day, 
my friends asked me if I wanted to go to a party on Saturday night. I told them I would have to 
ask my parents if I could go and I would get back to them with the answer. Knowing that the 
party was in a somewhat unacceptable area and that anyone could attend the party, I did not 
know what my parents’ answer would be. In the back of my mind, I knew that there was a 90% 
chance that they would say no, but I asked anyway, hoping to get shocked with a yes. I was 
wrong. They said no and proceeded to question me on why it wasn’t a good idea to go to the 
party. They asked me questions like: Do you think it good for someone your age to attend a party 
like that? Do you know specifically what neighborhood this party is being held? Being only 
somewhat familiar with this area was not good enough because my parents knew exactly where 
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it was and at the time it was not a good neighborhood at all. Being sixteen, I did not understand 
why they wouldn’t let me go when my friends’ parents let them go. I looked past the questions 
they asked me and focused on trying to understand the reason that they wouldn’t let me go. But 
the answer was right in front of me. It seemed like I didn’t want to agree with their real reason, 
which was in the questions they asked. It turned out that someone got seriously injured at the 
party, but even after finding that out, I still questioned my parents’ decision.   
I was hardheaded at that age. I wasted my time questioning my parents, when the answers 
I was looking for were right in my face. Now that I understand why my parents always 
questioned me, my perspective about how parents treat their children has changed. Now that I 
have to make my own choices, I question myself every time, and such thoughtfulness helps 
because now I know right from wrong. I am still at an age when my parents are teaching me how 
to be a better person, and now I listen to them fully, because most likely every time, they will 
have something to say that will help me in the long run.  
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A New Perspective

Redmond, Bryan V

Masthead Logo Pathways
Volume 2015
Issue 1 2014-2015 Article 10
2019
S is for......
Bryan V. Redmond
Xavier University of Louisiana, pathways@xula.edu
Follow this and additional works at: https://digitalcommons.xula.edu/pathways_journal
This Essay is brought to you for free and open access by XULA Digital Commons. It has been accepted for inclusion in Pathways by an authorized
editor of XULA Digital Commons. For more information, please contact ksiddell@xula.edu.
Recommended Citation
Redmond, Bryan V. (2019) "S is for......," Pathways: Vol. 2015 : Iss. 1 , Article 10.
Available at: https://digitalcommons.xula.edu/pathways_journal/vol2015/iss1/10
Bryan Vincent Redmond  
S Is For… 
I will not say I remember as if it were yesterday, for the event is something I wish I never 
experienced. In fact, I don’t remember how it even began. I only remember her asking me what 
my favorite color was, her being a middle-aged, yet beautiful and delicate, nurse. Then I was out.  
I began jumping over this hurdle when I was fifteen years old. Diagnosed with scoliosis, I 
was administered a back brace to rectify two curves in my spine. Out of the twenty-four hours 
God blessed me with daily, I was required to wear it a total of twenty. In those days, I woke up 
already with the contraption from hell. It ran from the center of my chest past my stomach and 
all around, enclosing and constricting me into a perfectly postured rectangular position. I got 
dressed, went to school, ate dinner, and went to sleep in the mechanism. The four hours that I 
didn’t wear it, I attended rehab or exercised on my own, showered, and allowed my soul to be 
temporarily free. My freedom was already limited inside that brace. The shackles would soon 
tighten.  
I always exceeded my twenty-hour requirement. My doctor would complement me on my 
efforts, promising health. By senior year, x-rays showed my once squiggly-lined shaped spine to 
be an S, with curvatures of 52 and 56 degrees. My spine was applying pressure to my lungs and 
heart and would not stop curving. On February 7, 2014 during the second half of senior year, 
which was spent at a new school, I attempted to answer that sweet nurse’s question before my 
spinal fusion surgery began. The anesthesia was so strong, I cannot remember if I even 
answered.  
I do remember, though, what happened afterwards. I woke up in immeasurable pain, a 
pain I do not care to even attempt to quantify. What I had become is so much more important, 
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and far easier to calculate. For two months, I became the shadow of my former self. After the 
surgery, I remember trying a variety of different foods. Each my body rejected. Each - except 
oatmeal. For fourteen days, breakfast, lunch, and dinner, I ate different combinations of the 
grain. Those first two weeks were the hardest. I became the most impolite and vile individual 
imaginable. I recall once screaming at my mother from my room. My back was in pain and itchy, 
I could not bathe because my scar was not done healing, and I was having a hot flash. From my 
room, I screamed and cursed at my more-than-compassionate mother about the temperature. She 
came into my bedroom in a skull cap and jacket, obviously freezing. I broke into tears.  
Eventually, I regained my strength. I was able to eat normal foods, the pain simmered 
down, and I learned to walk again (my father, annoyingly, was a big proponent of exercise!). 
Entering into a virtually new world, I returned to school, made up two months of classwork, and 
graduated as valedictorian with over $2 million in scholarships. Today, two rods and twenty 
screws still hold me up. In addition to the physical challenge, my surgery tested me mentally, 
emotionally, and most importantly, spiritually. Many nights I lay in my bed pondering when God 
would finally pull me over this two-year-long hurdle. My friend Logan visited one day and 
prayed for me, and I found the answer. God conditions us for life, just as an athlete prepares for 
his or her sport. Overcoming scoliosis and now with the ability to persevere through any 
difficulty, I earned the S that my spine had formed. That S, a gift from God, stood for Survivor.  
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S is for......

Young, Taylar

Masthead Logo Pathways
Volume 2015
Issue 1 2014-2015 Article 17
2019
My Worst Struggle
Taylar Young
Xavier University of Louisiana, pathways@xula.edu
Follow this and additional works at: https://digitalcommons.xula.edu/pathways_journal
This Essay is brought to you for free and open access by XULA Digital Commons. It has been accepted for inclusion in Pathways by an authorized
editor of XULA Digital Commons. For more information, please contact ksiddell@xula.edu.
Recommended Citation
Young, Taylar (2019) "My Worst Struggle," Pathways: Vol. 2015 : Iss. 1 , Article 17.
Available at: https://digitalcommons.xula.edu/pathways_journal/vol2015/iss1/17
  
Taylar Young 
My Worst Struggle  
Junior year was my worst year of high school. I began to have senior-itis at the wrong 
time; I just thought I would fly through the last two years of high school with no problems. I was 
in for a rude awakening. Dealing with the most difficult class that I had ever taken taught me the 
definition of perseverance.  
Mr. Randels, my English III teacher, was teaching through a college that is based in New 
York. It was an advanced placement course, which some other kids and I took because we were 
told that we would receive college credit. No one told us that the class would be an advanced 
class in which I learned absolutely nothing. That is when my high-school GPA took a turn for the 
worse.  
I had always been a bright girl, so I thought nothing of taking a college-level course in 
high school. However, I didn’t think college was all about throwing writing assignments at the 
students and not going into detail about what needs to be in the paper. The first week of school 
made me think that I was going to enjoy the class. We got to know each other and the writing 
topics were very interesting. The second week, he gave us four articles to read in one night and 
said to write journals for each reading. He never specified what he wanted to be in those 
journals. Mr. Randels just said to do a free write. So that is what I did.  
Low and behold, I received a 0 on every one of my journals. I was shocked because I 
took time to read the articles and type the journals. That was a lot for one night. I did not 
challenge him about my grade, but I wanted to know how to correct my errors for the next time. 
The only thing he told me was that it was not a good enough journal. For weeks and weeks, I 
continued to get poor grades, and I eventually told the principal. She talked to him and said that 
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it was unfair for us not to be given reasons why we were not receiving better grades. It was a 
problem that the entire class was failing. Something wasn't right. After that, he began to tell us 
that he was looking for comparison and contrast in the journals. That helped because I was able 
to incorporate that into my writings.  
By the middle of the fall semester, I was at a C average, and I could not accept that. I 
tried my very best to bring that C up, but there were not enough graded assignments left to make 
that happen in nine weeks. For the next semester, I wanted to finish with a B average. I turned in 
everything on time, sometimes earlier than the due date because I needed no reason for him to 
continuously lower my GPA.  
By the end of spring semester, I maintained an A average and was very elated. Even 
though the C did a little harm to my GPA, it wasn’t too bad. Once my principal saw my final 
grade from spring, she bought me a Popeye’s dinner to celebrate. The class had me up many 
nights until one and two in the morning. Sometimes, I did not get a chance to sleep at all. I knew 
that I had a goal to reach, and by all means, I was going to get there.  
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My Worst Struggle

Girod, Mandella

Masthead Logo Pathways
Volume 2018
Issue 1 2016-2017 Article 4
2019
Pay Compassion Forward
Mandella Girod
Xavier University of Louisiana, pathways@xula.edu
Follow this and additional works at: https://digitalcommons.xula.edu/pathways_journal
This Essay is brought to you for free and open access by XULA Digital Commons. It has been accepted for inclusion in Pathways by an authorized
editor of XULA Digital Commons. For more information, please contact ksiddell@xula.edu.
Recommended Citation
Girod, Mandella (2019) "Pay Compassion Forward," Pathways: Vol. 2018 : Iss. 1 , Article 4.
Available at: https://digitalcommons.xula.edu/pathways_journal/vol2018/iss1/4
Mandella Girod 
Pay Compassion Forward 
“Compassion is like a baton in a relay race. People will always pass it on.”—Datcher 
Keltner  
In the midst of the U.S. presidential election, Donald Trump, Black Lives Matter, and the 
many current issues occurring right now not only in the United states, but all over the world, the 
need for compassion is enormous. All of us at one point or another have experienced the effects 
of compassion, be it having been given to us or having expressed it towards another person. 
Compassion links everyone together, kind of like the red string of fate. It aids in the process of 
helping a group of people, or one person, understand one another, no matter the race, class, 
gender, or any other social constructs that divide us as a people. The capacity within us to feel, 
cry, and hurt for one another is compassion.  
Compassion can take many forms. It’s the warm, understanding embrace of a 
grandmother. The constant love you give someone who has never felt real love before. The 
feeling in your heart after you have helped someone in need. The sigh of relief after you help a 
mother with her two-year-old, while she deals with a fussy newborn. The friend who helps you 
through a tough time. The old man on the subway teaching you how to tie a tie before your first 
interview. The person who steps in and says enough is enough in an abusive situation. The 
listening ear, no matter what the cause. The helping hand.  
My mother isn’t really much of a compassionate person, neither is my stepfather. But my 
biological father is totally different. My father’s compassion rolled like thunder. It was loud and 
impactful. No matter who you were, if he could help you he would. Even after living through a 
time period when not many people were compassionate toward men of color, Robert Girod could 
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embody compassion like the flick of a light switch. If you were stuck on the side of the road, he 
would pull over and help you because he understood how it felt. If you were left heartbroken, he 
would be there to help you pick up the pieces. If you did not have a good father figure in your 
life, he would step in. My dad made me proud. He went out of his way to help others even when 
he knew he shouldn't because he was sick. He put his own personal needs aside just to show a 
little compassion to those in need of help. And I believe I got a lot of that.  
Compassion is not just a one-and-done job. Compassion is an ongoing expression of 
sympathy and empathy for a person who has hit a rough patch in their lives.  
Compassion is forever being expressed, even if it is not you expressing it anymore. Even 
after you have left this earth, your compassion will forever be a part of the chain reaction. Please 
be compassionate to one another because it can change someone’s current mood or outlook on 
life, and they will pass it on to the next person. Pay compassion forward. 
 
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Pay Compassion Forward

Williams, Kaitlyn N

Masthead Logo Pathways
Volume 2016
Issue 1 2015-2016 Article 19
2019
The Day I Found Out I Was Black
Kaitlyn N. Williams
Xavier University of Louisiana, pathways@xula.edu
Follow this and additional works at: https://digitalcommons.xula.edu/pathways_journal
This Essay is brought to you for free and open access by XULA Digital Commons. It has been accepted for inclusion in Pathways by an authorized
editor of XULA Digital Commons. For more information, please contact ksiddell@xula.edu.
Recommended Citation
Williams, Kaitlyn N. (2019) "The Day I Found Out I Was Black," Pathways: Vol. 2016 : Iss. 1 , Article 19.
Available at: https://digitalcommons.xula.edu/pathways_journal/vol2016/iss1/19
 Kaitlyn Williams 
The Day I Found Out I Was Black 
I will never forget the first time I truly realized I was different from everybody else. In 
the third grade I transferred from a school on a military base to a civilian school. The military 
school was very diverse. There were children of all races, colors, and ethnicities. However, at the 
civilian school there was little to no diversity. I was one of a handful of African Americans.  
Initially I was frightened and anxious attending a new school, but then again, who wouldn’t be?  
But I knew I would be alright because making new friends has never been a problem for me; I’ve 
always enjoyed meeting new people. One day in the lunchroom, I ran into someone who 
probably at the time had never met an African-American person. Maybe he didn’t know how to 
react or even know what to say. I can’t recall what we were talking about, but all of a sudden he 
blurted out “You’re as BLACK as my jacket.” I was puzzled and irate; I had no clue what to say. 
I thought to myself, Why would he say that to me? He doesn’t know me? Why did I look 
different from him? Why did he point it out? I went home to my mom as she comforted me and 
told me, “Everyone is beautiful, and we are different because this is part of God’s design.  
Embrace your differences and enjoy life.” That was the day that I discovered I was black and that 
being different was good.  It was this lesson of discovering that helped me to appreciate and 
understand the differences in the world and to respect those differences.  
 My childhood encounter in discovering who I was helps me to have empathy and respect 
for my peers.  I believe that it is our differences that make us great and our similarities that make 
us even greater.  This unexpected event that I experienced as a child has had a positive effect on 
my life. From this experience I learned to love myself and to love and respect others around me.  
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Williams: The Day I Found Out I Was Black
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 I grew up in a predominately Hispanic and Anglo community, as one of a few African-
American females. This unique upbringing taught me to interact, socialize, and be comfortable 
with people from different backgrounds and lifestyles.  I was not only able to share with them the 
perspectives of my heritage and culture but to learn about theirs as well. These gained 
experiences and knowledge make me appreciative of what other races contribute to our society.   
 Although living in a diverse society can sometimes lead to dispute, it can also create 
peace. A diverse society can advance peace because we have a mutual respect and understanding 
for one another. Living in a diverse society is personally important to me because it promotes a 
healthy society. By healthy I mean a happy community that is tolerant and understanding. A 
diverse environment is also very good for one’s psychosocial well-being. I am excited about 
embarking on a future in a society that is diverse, but I am more excited about contributing to 
that diversity and not only changing my life, but other lives as well. 
 
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Pathways, Vol. 2016 [2019], Iss. 1, Art. 19
https://digitalcommons.xula.edu/pathways_journal/vol2016/iss1/19


The Day I Found Out I Was Black

Marsh, Kenyell

Masthead Logo Pathways
Volume 2018
Issue 1 2016-2017 Article 10
2019
D'Quan and Chase
Kenyell Marsh
Xavier University of Louisiana, pathways@xula.edu
Follow this and additional works at: https://digitalcommons.xula.edu/pathways_journal
This Essay is brought to you for free and open access by XULA Digital Commons. It has been accepted for inclusion in Pathways by an authorized
editor of XULA Digital Commons. For more information, please contact ksiddell@xula.edu.
Recommended Citation
Marsh, Kenyell (2019) "D'Quan and Chase," Pathways: Vol. 2018 : Iss. 1 , Article 10.
Available at: https://digitalcommons.xula.edu/pathways_journal/vol2018/iss1/10
Kenyell Marsh 
D’Quan and Chase  
First, there is D'Quan Rashad Jackson. D'Quan Rashad Jackson is an African-American 
male, who is six-feet, seven-inches tall and has eighteen-inch-long dreads that are dyed at the 
tips. His tips reflect the color of the sun. He is as black as blindness, the devil, death, and 
thunder. He was born and raised in Chicago also known as Chiraq. As people know, Chicago is 
one of the most dangerous cities, and it ranks near the top in the highest murder rates. Due to 
having a high murder rate, Chicago’s population is dropping like petals on a beautiful, red rose. 
It is important to note that D'Quan is the anti-product of his environment. Then, there is Chase 
Eli Bradley. Chase Eli Bradley is a Caucasian individual, who is five-feet, ten-inches tall and has 
blond hair like gold from a furnace and eyes as blue as the deepest oceans. He is as pale as frosty 
snowflakes, a candle, a flower being cut off, a ghost, and a moon that moves alone through 
lonely space. He was born and raised in Martha's Vineyard. His family name is widely known in 
his hometown, and he plans to continue that legacy.  
D'Quan and Chase have been roommates since their freshman year at Massachusetts 
Institute of Technology. Their friendship started off as rocky as the Rocky Mountains in North 
America. This was because they grew up thinking that individuals could not be together if they 
were not the same race or came from the same background. But gradually, they realized how 
much they had in common and grew close like brothers and best friends. Here it is, now, the last 
week of their senior year at MIT. The only thing they have left to complete is their final exam for 
their math course, which is Honors Advanced Calculus and Linear Algebra. This is by far their 
hardest class. It is as hard as nails, granite, a Rubik's cube, and an egg on Easter Day. Because of 
that, together they study to be sure they can ace the test. They studied until the sky was as black 
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Marsh: D'Quan and Chase
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as ink and the color of dirty dishwater. After studying hard, the test day came and they both 
passed the test with flying colors.  
D'Quan and Chase graduated the highest ranked males in their graduating class. Their next 
step was applying for jobs. The CEO of a major technology company contacted both D'Quan and 
Chase via e-mail and telephone for an interview.  
The CEO was equally impressed with both males because on paper they are 
indistinguishable. Besides the fact that they have different names and backgrounds, they both 
attended the same college, having the same major and future career plans. This fast rising 
innovative technology company in Silicon Valley had the intention of only hiring one person for 
the position, but once they realized that D'Quan and Chase were at the top of their game and 
were both pretty qualified for the position, they decided to take the risk and create two jobs for 
the same position and pay them both equally and let them lead the company to success.  
Equality is treating others the way you want to be treated and knowing that everyone has a 
worth in life and their success. It is recognizing and understanding cultural aspects and historical 
differences in someone’s life, but still giving them a chance. Equality is not giving special 
privileges because of someone's skin color or brighter personal history. Equality is giving all 
people the same opportunity to fulfill their dreams while paying them exactly the same amount 
of money, regardless of their backgrounds, race, or ethnicity. 
 
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Pathways, Vol. 2018 [2019], Iss. 1, Art. 10
https://digitalcommons.xula.edu/pathways_journal/vol2018/iss1/10


D\u27Quan and Chase

Nyirenda, Chibeza

Masthead Logo Pathways
Volume 2018
Issue 1 2016-2017 Article 11
2019
Training Wheels
Chibeza Nyirenda
Xavier University of Louisiana, pathways@xula.edu
Follow this and additional works at: https://digitalcommons.xula.edu/pathways_journal
This Essay is brought to you for free and open access by XULA Digital Commons. It has been accepted for inclusion in Pathways by an authorized
editor of XULA Digital Commons. For more information, please contact ksiddell@xula.edu.
Recommended Citation
Nyirenda, Chibeza (2019) "Training Wheels," Pathways: Vol. 2018 : Iss. 1 , Article 11.
Available at: https://digitalcommons.xula.edu/pathways_journal/vol2018/iss1/11
 
Chibeza Nyirenda 
Training Wheels 
Dignity is something that is better shown than told, having a sense of pride and self-
respect, even when no one else respects you, and sticking to your beliefs and your morals when 
all else fails. Dignity is something that is only found in oneself.  
When I think of dignity I look to my mom, everything she does is done selflessly. My 
mom rarely has her own interest in mind, but it’s ironic because her children’s interest is also her 
best interest. Selfless and worthy of homage, she’s my idol and who I hope to be one day. She 
works a job where a majority of her peers make enough to live a very wealthy lifestyle, and she 
makes enough to do the same. However, the sacrifices she makes inhibit her ability to live the 
same way as they. She does not mind it, though. There have been countless times that her friends 
stopped by the house and critiqued the way we live, but she takes pride in herself and the 
lifestyle she chose, even when they don’t. She finds more assurance in looking after us than she 
does in looking out for herself, and material things are something she has never cared for to 
begin with.  
I want to be just like her for my children, but I also want to repay her myself. She has 
ignited a sense of pride and dignity in me that will continue to go on as a legacy throughout our 
family. Whenever I am looking for the motivation to finish or push through, I think of the people 
I do it for, rather than of myself, and I think that is something that my mother has instilled in me. 
 I lost my father at age sixteen, but I was only blessed to really get to know him for two 
years of my life. He was the same way. Both my parents sacrificed so much in order for me to 
live the lifestyle I live, and at times I would take it for granted. They were my training wheels for 
the real world, and sometimes I would get ahead of myself and try to ride alone, only to realize I 
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have so much more to learn. I believe I will never stop learning. The lifestyle I’m referring to is 
to have the freedom to choose whether to go to school or to drop out and chase other dreams, the 
freedom of choice. Some of my peers don’t even have the same opportunities as I, but when you 
grow up with parents like mine, it’s easy to look at simple things as blessings and view them as 
necessities, rather than privileges. Some kids have it tough because they have to grow up riding 
alone rather than having training wheels their whole lives. Due to this they fall more often and 
it’s harder for them to keep getting up. But when you are able to have the blessing of having a 
family that’s going to instill multiple positive traits, such as dignity, compassion, fairness, and 
equality, it’s easier to get back up even when you do fall because you know how many more 
people you can help get back up themselves. When you have dignity, it becomes less about you, 
even less about your family, and more about everyone as a whole. 
 As I said, it begins with yourself; you cannot help anyone until you can help yourself. 
However, once you can help yourself, I feel like you’re obligated to help those who can’t. 
Therefore, I believe the simple definition of “dignity” does not do it justice. Dignity may just be 
self-respect but it creates so many more things. Dignity is more than just pride. Dignity is staying 
true to yourself and others regardless of outside circumstances, and I am a firm believer of 
dignity not being able to genuinely be taught from one person to another, but rather only to be  
passed down from experiences in our life. Dignity is also passed down from someone else’s 
actions; therefore dignity extends from having self-respect to having respect for others as well. It 
is compassion, fairness, and equality all in one. It’s not just what keeps you rolling but others as 
well; dignity is the training wheels of life that is experienced through the respect others show for 
you. 
 
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Pathways, Vol. 2018 [2019], Iss. 1, Art. 11
https://digitalcommons.xula.edu/pathways_journal/vol2018/iss1/11


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