7.4 billion people.
Each and every one of us has a story to tell. Don’t say you don’t have feelings. Don’t say that nothing is wrong. I firmly believe that the best way to inspire, encourage and learn from each other is to tell stories. Good stories, beautiful stories, ugly stories. Simply listen. They say knowledge is power. I say the act of sharing stories is powerful. You become vulnerable. You unmask yourself from societal expectations. You emerge to a different level with the people you share your story with. You become connected.
Recommended for you
This past week a young man approached me asking me for money at Walmart. He said he was on his way to Oregon, he had just crossed the border all the way from Zacatecas, Mexico. He had crossed the day before. I instantly became curious. He told me about his trajectory from Zacatecas to San Jose, CA. He was travelling to Oregon because his family was waiting for him. I analyzed him. Being a young woman in her 20s, I am always on the lookout for danger, especially around men. He looked and spoke like he just crossed the border. Worn out clothes. Dark-colored skin. He said he spoke zero english. I told myself he has to be telling the truth. I told him to be careful because many people don’t like immigrants in this country. I told him about the things I heard about Zacatecas and how my parents are also from Mexico. He said he came to the U.S. to make some money but he was going to head back to Mexico once he earned enough money for his family.
I could feel the stares from the people that passed by us. We both looked like we came from different worlds. If I would have been born in Mexico, I would have been doing the same thing he was doing: traveling to the United States illegally because Mexico is not a pretty place to be living in. I supported him because if it weren’t for my parent's resilience to stay in this country, I would have been in his same situation. For the first time in my life, I gave money to a complete stranger. He took off his hat… a humbled gesture and said thank you.
The exchange of information was natural and enticing. I wanted to know more. I wanted to know more about his story. When we left each other's’ presence, I could tell he wanted to know more. More of what it’s like to be Latino in the U.S. I probably will never see him again but how I wish I would have asked him for his name.
People don’t want pity, they just want to be heard and understood. All 7.4 billion people.
