Intercultural Responsiveness
A Blog By Tom Altepeter

The Real Slim Sadie

February 17th, 2015

Sadie HawkinsThere are moments when the walls come closing in on you, when you’re certain you can’t keep going, when you feel like you’ve had your fill, when you‘re certain you just can’t take anymore. Those moments are usually followed with the realization that none of it is your choice. It’s just not your call. Do we have a hand in making it all happen? Sure, but we don’t get to wish it all away. It doesn’t work that way. Never has. Never will.

I’m fed up with the red tape we’re all tripping over as educators. We get in the way of ourselves, finding new ways to self-destruct, all while watching what we’re really here for slip through our fingers. When all is said and done, though, we’ve only got ourselves to blame. These monsters we create – numbers taking the place of data, and paperwork taking the place of people – are our masterpieces, idolizing objectivity and mocking subjectivity.

Blessed beyond measure, and far more well off than most people, I still think anyone with even a basic understanding of money would only be honest calling me a financial train wreck. I never regret spending a single cent both supporting and even splurging on my two daughters; however, two divorces, alimony, child support payments, debt, and necessary expenses can create some tight situations. And, when you work your way through bankruptcy, and you hope to find a light at the end of the tunnel, another thing comes to cozy up with you in your lap. Having only yourself to blame doesn’t make the blow any softer.

Woe is me. Sure. Whatever. I have a lot of stuff going on. We all do. I struggle with my work. We all do. Here’s the thing, though: None of it matters. Relishing the challenges along with the celebrations is what makes it real. All that really matters is what we make of it, how we choose to embrace it, and where we let it take us.

It wasn’t that long ago that I stressed to no end how to prevent my oldest daughter from being interested in having a relationship with anyone beyond me, her mother, her sisters, her step-parents, her family, her friends. And, by friends, I mean, of course, FRIENDS. That stress moved to attempting to determine how to delay her interest. Finally, it moved to figuring out how to accept her interest. Parenting is quite the animal, and taming and controlling the animal isn’t the goal – Caring for, teaching, learning from, and loving the animal is the goal.

So, there I was, working with my oldest daughter to support her creative idea in asking her boyfriend to the Sadie Hawkins dance. Laughing with her about her word play, feeling excited about how to help her make it all go well, helping her pick out some matching t-shirts for the dance, and even picking up and dropping off some tacos as part of the lunchtime proposal. Heck, I was waiting anxiously to find out how it all went (I even had to text her since I couldn’t wait for her to let me know in her own way, in her own time). Now, I can get into my issue with this and other traditions at schools, and I can rattle on about my concerns with the school mascot, and I can share a lot of words about healthy and unhealthy relationships, but all of that can and should be for another time. You can count on the fact that I’m still going to, and always will, guard her and my younger daughter as well with my life. Still, this stuff, other stuff – it’s what we make of it. Truly, it is, all of it. Cherish it.


November 24th, 2014

imagesI’m witnessing the shouts of ignorance far too often these days. It’s not just the absence of love, which frequently finds space to avoid, but rather, it’s the presence of hate, which claws into words and actions with reckless abandon. We’re becoming soiled by its unyielding desire to destroy, and we’re convincing ourselves that it’s contrary to our intentions. I remain unconvinced that we are so dumb. There’s far too much available at the tips of our fingers and within reach of our ears and eyes to believe that we can blame it on misinformation or misunderstanding. No, we are complicit in this drowning of our compassion.

The reaction to “illegal” immigration has been both fascinating and disturbing. A revelation of our collective stupidity when ignoring our past is one possible way to describe it, especially considering most of those who speak so intensely about others not belonging here can trace their own lineage easily enough to demonstrate their own ancestors were “illegal” immigrants. More accurately, though, it’s a full exposure of the egocentrism that festers in a pool of privilege born of white power. Masking racism with an interpretation of the law that prevents it aligning to ourselves and ignores the factors contributing to present circumstances is conveniently but blatantly disgusting.

Defending the use of racial slurs would seem at first glance to be beneath us, even in the imaginary “post-racial” society so many of us believe we have. And yet, it’s a constant barrage of pompous dismissals alongside supportive comments when it comes to defending the use of words or symbols anyone in their right mind would never say or show directly to the face of an American Indian without rightfully and promptly being informed they are racist. Arguing the right to not listen to those we deem unworthy of our discomfort speaks to the pervasive ethnocentrism so dominate in our society, and highlights specifically how our power and privilege leads us to believe we can make pointless comparisons.

Defining a loving relationship between two mutually consenting adults within the parameters of our narrow and misguided minds has created a false sense of righteousness, especially among those who consider themselves followers of Christ. Scripture is used to defend this hatred in a way that magnifies both the ignorance of how marriage is defined within The Bible, but also in a way that ignores the history of how The Word has been distorted in history to oppress with such sweeping certainty. Instead of finding ways to expand love, we demonstrate how sick we can be by relating it to offenses with no comparison. We rush to make an exclusive club, while acting as if we are unable to recognize how we falsely define relationships as being about what happens in the bed instead of what happens in the heart.

For hatred of a leader, and at the expense of people in need and women who deserve nothing but our thanks and respect, we justify our criticisms of a system designed to provide care that we all deserve. Criticizing endless numbers of people being able to access what should be a basic right? Seriously? Imagine the progress we could make if we were demanding ways to continually improve rather than destroy access to healthcare for all? What if we cared less about pitching in a bit more, waiting a bit longer, and acting a bit less like the entire world revolves around ourselves? What if we cared more about doing absolutely everything we can to see that all people everywhere – regardless of background, circumstances, or “pre-existing conditions” – were cared for the way we all wish to be cared for?

As I write this, a decision announced by a prosecutor from a grand jury about whether or not to allow a family to have their day in court for their child is being shared. It’s not an indictment of all law enforcement everywhere. That’s a distortion and distraction of epic proportions. It’s not about just a single case. That’s downplaying a long history of injustices. No, this is a decision related to an issue that defines the state of racial divide that continues to exist day in and day out all around us. To pretend it doesn’t exist means we aren’t paying attention to the statistics that make clear the disproportionate numbers of people of color who face academic struggles and discipline referrals in schools, but also arrest, imprisonment, and death at the hands of our society.

My heart aches. My fists clench. My anger boils. Being white, straight, able-bodied and minded, economically stable, and male, I’m privileged enough to not have to live this day in and day out. Still, my heart aches. My fists clench. My anger boils. We are brothers and sisters, and we are all both victims and perpetrators.

I look for my God in all of this, and I remember He is where He always is – within us.

Be You

October 30th, 2014

imagesBest I can tell, based on some basic research, Glynn Wolfe went through a couple dozen divorces. Married 29 (maybe 30) times, he was divorced 24 times. I don’t know, but that seems pretty jacked up to me. Then again, it’s all relative, I suppose. What seems too many times to be married and divorced? Some folks would say more than once is unacceptable, but others would say even once may be unacceptable, depending on the circumstances. So, what is too many times to be married and divorced – three, four, more?

I’ve been married and divorced twice. While I would have a lot of work to do if was interested in breaking the record, it’s important to note this isn’t a statistic I’m chasing. I’m not proud of where I stand with my numbers as it is, let alone how I’d feel with a third, a fourth, a whatever plus. What I am proud of is that out of these two failed marriages came two incredible girls. My daughters redefine what it means to be blessed, and the only way I came to experience them in my life, and for them to be gifts to this world, was to be on my journey.

Some people like being alone, but really, people crave connection. They might not crave an intimate relationship with someone, but people do need interaction. I know I like being alone, but I also know I like being in a relationship. The problem is, I only like parts of it. Selfish as that sounds (and, quite frankly, is), I’ve at least reached a point in my life where I can not only acknowledge that, but I can also stay true to it. What I mean is this: Don’t try to be someone you’re not – Be you.

Learning about ourselves and learning about and being responsive to others is so very important. It is not, however, anywhere close to being the same as changing yourself or changing others. Now, just to be clear, I’m not talking about self-improvement here. Of course we want to beat our bad habits, we want to not harm others, we want to grow and learn and be better human beings day after day. However, we can’t be someone else, nor should we try to be, nor should we allow others to convince us that we can or even should be.

I’ve used and abused, I quite literally weigh twice as much as when I was a highly successful cross-country and track athlete at the high school into collegiate levels, I’ve very nearly died more than once because of my poor choices, and I cry far more frequently than people know because I’m with my two daughters only some of the time instead of all of the time. But, I know myself, I’m going to try to keep improving myself, and I’m going to try to stay true to myself. I’m betting my time here will end without a partner, and I’m O.K. with that. Actually, it’s quite likely for the best.

I’m gonna be me, and I hope you be you.


August 27th, 2014

AcheAs I looked toward the beginning of this school year, I determined a solid personal goal for me to have would be to focus on getting out of my office. While seemingly a simple goal, it’s so easy for me to get trapped in my office, tending to the endless e-mails, voice mails, and meetings. Important work, no doubt, but not as important as being out, connecting, building relationships, listening, paying attention, engaging, learning, loving. “Get out of my office,” I thought and shared, because it’s out there where everything truly important is actually happening.

It’s nice to have your thinking validated, especially so quickly, but not so abruptly, not so painfully.

We spent an entire day with our staff before day one with our students discussing the launch of a new weekly class period focused on affective needs, having fun promoting the importance of team, getting rid of our barriers, promoting our goals, and laughing – Just laughing. We were promoting the truth that education without relationships at the front, at the center, and at the top of the priority list, is basically meaningless. Smiles were wide, and emotions were high.

Without giving precise details, this school year is off to an extremely difficult start. A high school aged former student (with a sibling still with us) lost his life due to tragic circumstances immediately before the school year began, a present student took his own life in a shocking manner immediately after the school year began, and a fractured relationship with a parent have all contributed to so many students and staff feeling shaken to the core, emotionally drained, and uncertain of their well-being.

Loss can break you. The ache that starts inside is one that sometimes never seems to fully go away. I can’t imagine losing one of my children. I know people can, because I know people have experienced it. But, I can imagine losing someone I love – too soon, too tragically, too awful to thoroughly comprehend. I do know that experience. I do know that ache. I do know it sometimes never seems to fully go away. And, yet, I do know it gets better.

We learn from loss. We learn from ache. It reminds us of our humanity, and guides us – sometimes harshly, sometimes gently – back toward one another. There are things in life that matter, and those things often involve work that needs to be done, learning that needs to happen, growth that has to be accomplished. But then there are things in life that actually make life what it is, its essence, its fullness, its wholeness. I learn more and more each day that while I will continue to strive to work hard, to learn, and to grow, those things aren’t what define me, and they aren’t what I hope for others. I am deeply loved, and if I can contribute even a momentary glimpse of that love toward and with others, I have truly left my office, and I am truly healing that ache.


June 14th, 2014

AddictionsI am a compulsive overeater. I’m addicted to food. My body size pretty much gives that away (not that body size always indicates compulsive overeating, or that compulsive overeating is always reflected in body size), but I’ve had trouble with other addictions that weren’t as noticeable. They also, thankfully, didn’t dominate my life. Food just happens to be, and always has been, my drug of choice. Food is my addiction.

Recently, I read this brief writing below. It spoke volumes to me. I’ve read a lot about food struggles, but this sums up my struggles more than anything else I’ve seen so far. Thanks for taking a moment to read it. Thanks for taking a moment to reflect on how each and every single one of us struggles with stuff. Together let us learn, let us grow, let us heal.

“Food is not my best friend, my confidante or my lover. Food does not fix broken promises, broken hearts or broken dishwashers. It doesn’t clean my house, organize my life or organize my mind. Food won’t hold my hand and walk me through the dark when I’m afraid or whisper good advice in my ear when I’m about to screw up. Food does not carry a tissue in its back pocket to wipe away tears, nor does food have a shoulder to lean on when I just can’t go another step. It does not fix any of my problems.

Food is not my advocate when I am treated unfairly or my spokesperson when I can’t speak for myself. Food does not make right old wrongs, does not erase childhood trauma or make past abuse finally okay. It does not eliminate long-standing grudges, old mistakes or pain. Food does not make the disappointment go away or play games with me when the boredom sets in. Food does not help me deal with a job I hate, a person I hate or my own self-hate. Food does not give me things, will not make me prettier or smarter or thinner (especially not thinner).

Food will cover up the truth, food will distort reality, and food will pretend to do all the things that food really can’t do.

Food, I am learning my friends, is just that. It’s just food.”

Bianca W.
Woodstock, Georgia, U.S.A.
Lifeline Magazine
November, 2012

End of Year Survival Guide

May 4th, 2014

Sky FallingIt’s that beautiful time of year. It’s that nightmare time of year. The school calendar is winding down, and the students are winding up. We’re all at our breaking points, with many of us passing those points long ago. Summer is so close, and yet so very far away. We know we’re going to make it. Well, we’re fairly certain we’re going to make it. Fine, we’re pretty sure we may not make it. Worry not, as your game plan is here …

Humble yourself

If you’ve “had it” – so to speak – with the students, then rest assured they feel the same about us. We’re in no better place because of how we behave or others behave; rather, we’re in the exact same place. We’ve all got our things going on, and it works for some people, and it doesn’t work for others. Knock yourself down a few notches. It’s healthy, and allows for a somewhat more appropriate perspective.

Let go

That white-knuckle grip we’ve got on all the details and every single situation isn’t good for anyone, including ourselves. Determined to have things happen a certain way is as close to a guarantee for failure as one can get. We can get sucked in quickly to stand our ground on the smallest thing, while losing ground with the most important thing. Instead of ramping it up, try walking away for just a few and breathe.


There’s a reason behind everything, and “I don’t want to hear it” isn’t going to get to the root of it. The last thing we want to do when we’ve repeated ourselves, when we feel ignored, and when we’re tired is to really take the time to process, discuss, and listen. It never ceases to amaze me what comes to light when we allow it, and allowing it is the first step to truly understanding and learning.


I’m not entirely sure why, but my default facial expression does not include a smile. I think I’m tired or distracted or thinking about things, and the look on my face is typically a cross between confusion and anger. When we take the time to make eye contact with others, to free our minds of what is constantly stirring, to ponder what brings us happiness and joy, a smile forms. And, that smile changes everything.

Remind yourself

While certainly not a universal truth, most educators are looking forward to a summer free of stress. Maybe it’s vacation time, or a different job, or gardening and yard work, or just the sweetness of doing nothing. Regardless, many students are looking forward to the same. However, not all students are in that place, and almost especially not many of the students who typically have the hardest time in school. The safe haven disappears, and it’s endless weeks until it returns.

Bottom line: We really will make it, but along the way, let’s remember to consider that “we” is more than ourselves, and “making it” depends on who you are. Live, love, and learn.

Nuts & Bolts: Part 7

April 14th, 2014

This is the seventh installment of a series making an appearance occasionally in this blog designed to give some specific guidance regarding how to work with an organization on intercultural responsiveness. The first six installments can be found here: Nuts & Bolts: Part 6, here: Nuts & Bolts: Part 5, here: Nuts & Bolts: Part 4, here: Nuts & Bolts: Part 3, here: Nuts & Bolts: Part 2, and here: Nuts & Bolts: Part 1

One of the more productive ways of learning about ourselves and others along this life long journey of intercultural responsiveness is by reading, watching, questioning, and reflecting. I stumble across things I never knew, things that challenge my way of thinking, things that shape and reshape my perception of self and others all the time.

A common question that circulates among educators goes something like this: “If I’m supposed to celebrate and be responsive to differences, then how am I supposed to do that?” While this type of question is extremely loaded, and certainly can’t be answered by handing out pamphlets that propose to somehow fully explain various groups of people, an initial way to address this is through information that approaches the question with the assumption that the one asking it is from the dominant culture – the culture that enjoys the power and privilege.

The primary reason this kind of information isn’t readily and handily available (beyond it being uncomfortable for so many to talk about), I believe is because there is a fear that we will make assumptions that we can categorize and address all people in a particular way. Truly understanding ourselves and others, including how to more appropriately be responsive to ourselves and others, arguably won’t actually fully happen within a human’s lifetime, let alone by reading a handful of articles. So, with that cautionary note, here are some articles I’ve stumbled across this calendar year. Note that there are far more groups not represented than represented here, note the themes that develop, and note the necessity to always expand rather than narrow our understanding.

12 Tips All Educators Must Know About Educating African American & Latino Students

What If Everything You Knew About Poverty Was Wrong?

Facing Race Issues In the Classroom: How To Connect With Students

My Brother’s Keeper Initiative: Raising Student Achievement for Boys of Color

4 Key Ways to Make a Safe Environment for LGBTQ Youth

We’re used to professional development that comes in the form of telling you precisely what you need to know. Here’s the information, and here’s the materials – now, go forth and conquer. This work requires a tremendous amount of critical thinking, so I spent a little bit of time with staff this year viewing some videos and having them reflect on some questions. I find these types of experiences to be powerful beyond measure, as long as we truly open ourselves. What follows are links to the few videos that were shared, along with some quotes and questions designed to get us to dig a little deeper. Enjoy.

The Danger of a Single Story: Chimamanda Adichie Ngozi

“Show a people as one thing, as only one thing, over and over again, and that is what they become.”

How does power impact stories?

How can you ensure more complete stories?

Who can you think of that seem to have single stories, and what are they?

“The single story creates stereotypes, and the problem with stereotypes is not that they are untrue, but that they are incomplete.”

America’s Native Prisoners of War: Aaron Huey

Reflect on what you understand “Wasichu” to mean (interpreted by some to mean “takes the fat” or “greedy person”), and respond to this quote from Johansen and Maestas: “Wasichu does not describe a race; it describes a state of mind … (it is) a human condition based on inhumanity, racism, and exploitation) … it is a sickness, a seemingly incurable and contagious disease.”

Aaron Huey states, “The last chapter in any successful genocide is the one in which the oppressor can remove their hands and say, ‘My God, what are these people doing to themselves? They’re killing each other. They’re killing themselves.’” What do you think he means by this?

Soul Biographies: The Second Glance

“Perhaps true beauty is something that draws our attention at second glance, once the judgment of a first glance has realized it’s mistake.”

What is normal?

How do we project an image of normality?

Why is that easier for some, and more difficult for others?


February 18th, 2014

Abby & HopeWe’ve all dealt with loss, no doubt. Sometimes it seems relatively trivial in the whole scheme of things, but sometimes it feels devastating beyond words, beyond belief, beyond anything imaginable. I’ve lost loved ones, I’ve lost positions, and I’ve lost games. Come to think of it, I’ve experienced the feeling of losing just about everything but weight. However, when I truly spend time thinking of losing, I think of sports.

For those of you who aren’t sports fanatics, and/or don’t really follow women’s soccer, this is a photo of Abby Wambach and Hope Solo, a forward and goalkeeper for the United States. They’re holding some special hardware from the 2011 FIFA Women’s World Cup (the Super Bowl of soccer where a true world champion is crowned every four years), and yet, it’s quite clear they’re not very happy. They’re holding the Silver and Bronze Ball awards as the second and third most outstanding players of the tournament. In addition to that, Abby got the Bronze Boot (third highest goals of the tournament), Hope got the Golden Glove (best goalkeeper of the tournament), and both of them made the tournament All-Star Team. It sure seems like they should be very happy. I mean, come on, what more did they want?! Oh, right, the tournament team championship is what they really wanted. They lost in the final, after extra time, in the penalty shootout. Yes, it was painful. But, next year is another opportunity …

In just the last year(ish), I’ve watched my Notre Dame football team make the national championship game, and my Denver Broncos football team make the Super Bowl, and then lose. Well, actually, they both got absolutely dominated. I used to be a top notch runner in high school, even got recruited and ran some at the college/university level. I won a lot; however, I also lost – a lot. I’ve been watching the Olympics recently, and there have been some favorites that haven’t just lost the gold medal, they didn’t even receive any medal. You can say it’s just a game, it’s just sports, it’s an accomplishment to even be there (wherever “there” happens to be), and you’re right. Still, losing is truly difficult. And, losing with grace is even more difficult. The thrill of victory, and the agony of defeat.

Yet, there’s something else that stands out to me when I think of losing. The pain of it falls somewhere in that place between sports and death, and I realize that’s a really big space. I feel so inspired when I make a breakthrough with a student who is having such a hard time with school, with academics, with behavior, with life. And, I feel so deflated when I feel like I have failed a student, when we – as an institution or system or society – fail them, when they seem to have failed themselves. So much is put in to make a positive difference – blood, sweat, and tears is often not even remotely an exaggeration. But, it doesn’t always work. Sometimes it just doesn’t. Sometimes you lose. And then what?

I watch with sadness, even anger, as some people’s reaction is to attempt to dismantle public education. I feel the weight of a student’s glare and cutting words aimed directly at me. I listen to the disparaging remarks from a parent, bent on blaming someone, and that someone is often me. This is the daily price of losing in the educational workplace. It’s draining, debilitating, soul-sucking, thankless, unfair, and pointless. It need not be this way though. Losing with grace isn’t about shutting up, putting your head down, and walking away. Speaking up, speaking out, taking back the conversation, owning your part, seeking to listen, demanding mutual respect, and learning something – That is the new beginning after the pain of loss.

Because losing is never the end of the story.

Gone in 60 Seconds

February 3rd, 2014

Gone in 60 secondsSometimes you gotta get ’em in, and get ’em out. There’s a whole lotta things going on, a whole lotta things to take care of, and spending a bunch of time on every single issue just isn’t a luxury we can afford. Simply put, there are problems created, those problems need to be solved, and they need to be solved quickly. And, so it goes.

But then, every once in a while, you take a breath, and you realize you happen to have some time, and you think, “Maybe, just maybe, I’ll work on this situation the way I’d really like to work all the situations.” Today was one of those days. I connected. I listened. I learned. Something I typically deal with in a minute became something I experienced in an hour.

He left a mess, was made to clean it up, became rude about it, grabbed a student’s shirt, and then dropped the f-bomb on a staff member. Pretty straightforward – disrespect, physical aggression, inappropriate language – discipline referral – in school suspension. Own it, fix it, change it, accept your consequence, serve your time, and move on. Badabing, badaboom!

Then, the alternative. He’s a quiet kid, but can be extremely quick to anger – especially around adults. “Tell me what happened.” Silence at first, and then mumbling. Slowly, but surely, the full story comes out. It takes a lot of prodding. A lot of reassuring. A lot of clarification. We finally get there: “So, you weren’t upset about cleaning up – you were upset about being blamed for making the mess. You were upset that the student was making fun of you for having to clean it up. By the time the staff member stepped in to end the escalation, you were pretty jacked up. Yes?” And the look on his face told me that he truly felt heard.

By the time I was having him determine what he needed to do to make this right, we were on a roll. He owned every single portion of his behavior – walking away from the mess, grabbing the student’s shirt, and cussing at the staff member. He explained what he could have done differently every step of the way to avoid things ending the way they did. And, he wanted to meet with each person involved – not to blame, but rather to make things right. The student who created the mess apologized and agreed to spend time cleaning the next day. The student who had his shirt grabbed could barely digest the lengthy apology before offering one up himself for his smirking and laughter. The staff member received one of the most genuine and well articulated apologies I’ve ever heard, and relationships were salvaged in the process.

Don’t tell me educators don’t need more resources. The math is basic. Affording the time and attention that every single student deserves when it comes to their needs – academically, behaviorally, emotionally – requires more resources than we have. But it doesn’t stop any of us from trying. Never has, never will.

Gone in 3,600 seconds … and not one of them wasted.

Fitting The Mold

January 25th, 2014

Square-Peg-Round-HoleSometimes I wish I was one of those people who fit the mold. I don’t know if it matters too much to me what that mold is, just that I fit it. It’s tough getting accepted in this world when you don’t completely fit with any particular group, and it’s tougher still when you increasingly notice that you aren’t particularly willing to try very hard to do just that. I mean, I am who I am, and that should be good enough … right?

But, here’s the thing: It’s nice and all to say that should be good enough, yet deep down inside, we know it’s not. Sure, some people are extremely accepting, and those people can usually be found, well, looking for a place to fit in. As a general rule, there’s a certain amount of conformity that happens for everyone when it comes to being accepted. Truly, let’s be honest.

Now, I’m not trying to convince people to conform. I’m not attempting to get anyone to change who they are. I’m not encouraging folks to give up a part of self in order to fit in with anyone else. No, I’m merely being honest about a wish I sometimes have – a wish that in my estimation is only more fully granted when we are willing to make at least a partial transformation.

Here’s (part of) me:

I’m a father with two amazing daughters – who have two different mothers due to me having been married and divorced twice now. I’m an educator – a teacher turned elementary school principal turned middle school assistant principal – and one who can’t stand all the nauseatingly boring talk around instruction, curriculum, standards, and the like. I’m a sports fanatic – especially collegiate sports, and specifically football, basketball, and soccer – and one who can’t comprehend anyone’s interest in baseball or hockey. I’m an Evangelical Christian who quite literally takes the life of Jesus to heart – cringing at any words or actions taken in God’s name that diminish or destroy certain individuals or groups of people. And, I’m a political liberal – determined that we are here not to be self-serving, but rather to love and serve one another without complaint or excuse related to giving to and providing for others in need, and promoting basic human rights for all people – with no exception.

I’m actually (slowly) growing more comfortable with my inability to fit the mold.

Yes, it’s true, I sometimes wish I fit the mold. But, as I grow older, I’ve become less concerned about that relatively futile and pointless endeavor. The delight of dichotomy is far too gripping. The desire to be precisely who I am is much too enticing. It has become increasingly apparent that what matters most is not what we do to be accepted, but rather what we do to be accepting.

Yes. That.