When it was time to write a final paper for one of my graduate courses, I looked at the essay rubric: review/recap two books and talk about their appeal (via personal experience/visceral reaction/inspiration).
I spent some time reflecting, but it didn’t take long for inspiration to hit.
We’re all outsiders.
In one way or another, we have that thing that makes us a little bit different. Sometimes it’s just the way we feel, other times it’s the way others treat us.
At school, I was one of two mixed girls in my grade (hey, Ronique!) – looked like *this*, acted like *that*, and people weren’t shy about their confusion and/or racism. At church, I asked questions that nobody else in Sunday School did (“But, like, HOW did he make Lazarus come back alive?”). And I won’t even get started on dating, liking, love, etc.