Growing up, I was surrounded by kids who were similar to me. We all had the same views, morals – we all even played the same sports and were in the same extra-curricular clubs. We even had uniforms, the same green and purple polos were all our closets consisted of until high school. However, we all have to grow up sometime and realize that we are all different.

During the summer of 2016, I sprinted across the squeaky hardwood floor of the University of California-Los Angeles gym and dove to pass the volleyball aimed at the ground for my teammate and friend, Elle to hit over the net. Our loud cheering reverberated off the walls- and we almost missed the bell signaling our lunch break.

The cafeteria was packed, Elle and I walked alongside one another as we stacked various foods onto our grey trays. Elle’s phone lit up with an alert – it was an article detailing candidate Trump’s stance on abortions. Frustration swept across Elle’s face as she sighed heavily. She saw the look of confusion and began telling her mom’s story as we walked to the lunch table to sit with our friends, Jayla, and Sydney, who happened to be Elle’s roommate. Elle coiled back as she told us that her mom had been raped, resulting in a pregnancy, and decided to keep the child. My heart pounded in my chest as tears began to stream down Elle’s face, dropping onto the grey tray. The table was silent besides the sound of our hearts breaking for Elle and her family. My voice squeaked as I finally spoke “What happened to your mother wasn’t fair.” The pit in my stomach grew larger- but not from fear, it was a feeling of sadness and empathy. A longing to make her problems go away. “Did she ever consider having an abortion?” My friend Jayla asked as she stroked Elle’s arm from across the table. Sydney was silent. Elle cleared her voice, “She considered it, but couldn’t go through with it.”

“Good.” A new feminine voice replied with a slight southern twang. A group of five older girls, aged seventeen or eighteen, stood at the end of the table. “God,” she continued, “gave your mom a baby because it was His plan. Doin’ anything else is a sin.” She spat at us. Suddenly the older girls rushed at Elle, and fists were flying in the air. I grabbed for Elle’s arm, to hold her back, despite her not doing anything wrong. The fear that coursed through all of our veins was palpable. The counselors finally noticed and diffused the situation. The older girls still smirked as they were dragged away. The moment and fear slipped away from us. After another four hours of playing, Elle, Jayla, Sydney, and I headed back to the dorms to drop each other off to shower. Elle and Sydney’s room was first from the elevator. We laughed as we walked up to the door and as Elle pushed in the key. As soon as Elle opened her door, chaos ensued. Clothes were thrown over all of the surfaces, the photo of Elle’s family was taken out of its frame- which was now shattered- and was in a thousand different pieces. Elle’s wallet was gone. It turns out that Sydney agreed with the older girls’ political opinion, and gave them the key to their dorm.

Part of growing up is realizing that people are inherently different. We all look at the same situation and come to different conclusions. This moment was a turning point in my childhood- when I learned that we all aren’t homogenous- we don’t all play the same sports, or go to the same clubs after school. We don’t all have the same political views. I believe that part of growing up is realizing that we are all different from one another. I learned that we all have our own respective views, and there is absolutely nothing we can do to change them. Today’s society is so divided; it seems impossible to have a real conversation. One that ends in an understanding rather than screaming, that the space for a genuine understanding and conversation is slipping away. I believe that we are all fundamentally different, and at times it divides us, and growing up highlights this.