Gracie Mullins, Sensitive

Out of the 171,146 words used in the English language, how could I ever pick just one to describe myself? Every hair on my head and every heartbeat that pounds in my chest could never be packed into a few syllables.

Growing up I was blessed with a family that didn’t expect perfection from me. They allowed me to grow into my beliefs regarding political and religious opinions. Now being 17, I am understanding how rare this is. With red and blue being pitted against each other all across our country, my house was painted a beautiful blend of purple. The narrative switched when I’d go to my best friend’s house. The thick red paint covered every surface of that beautiful, pillared, Southern home. I’d hear colorful language floating around the room as Fox News was preaching in the background. Her dad picked us up from middle school most days, and the building happened to rest in the poverty-ridden part of town. I’d hear scoffs of disgust from him as we rode through the rotting wood and lawn chairs resting in the cracked driveways.

Oh look, this is where our tax dollars are going.

Little snide remarks were made every single day we passed those homes. After hearing them on a loop, it became a song I knew all of the words to. The degrading and privileged lyrics played a bitter melody in my head so much that I believed them to be true.

The N-word was loosely thrown around like it was just another adjective. So that’s what it became to me.

This song didn’t stop until 2020. When the pandemic caused everyone’s world to stop for just a second. It’s like I was finally able to hear over that horrid song that this little redneck town had been playing over and over and over. I was able to truly observe the place that I called home from the comfort of my bedroom.

This was the time that I uncomfortably became the most comfortable version of myself. Through the tears dripping on my laptop, I could see the true diversity of America that Shreveport, Louisiana doesn’t like to accept. The people who love the ones that Leviticus tells them they aren’t supposed to. The ones who continue