On diversity

On diversity

Me, in a sea of white. I want to be special. Everyone does, right? Everyone wants to be a Campbell-ian hero, with a set journey. I also don’t want to be special. Maybe a hold-over from my middle school/high school years, where you try to be like everybody else. To be normal. I’m undecided, you see. Which means this post might not arrive to a singular conclusion. You’ve been warned. This post has been tumbling around my head for a while, ever since I returned from my semester abroad in Nebraska. During my stay there, I participated in the college newspaper as a reporter. It was an amazing experience, as it was nice to do journalism in a school environment that supports it. When the semester was done, a colleague told me how happy he/she was that the paper was more diverse that year, with two diverse news writers. Now, I know what he meant. I’d agree that diversity is something media should strive for. I thanked him for that, and his/her help advice during the semester. It wasn’t until later that his comment started gnawing at me. Was I diverse because of my name? My color of skin, my nationality? Are those factors enough to consider me “diverse”? Whatever else, I still was a middle-class student fortunate enough to spend a semester abroad. I’m college-educated, just as all my other colleagues where. So am I diverse? Am I not? Is it up to me or to other people to decide? So that’s unanswered question #1. My train of thought then led me to the concept of minority. Was I seen as...