I was prepared to change the world.

I know it sounds egotistical, but during the summer of 2009, right after I had graduated from school, I was ready to change the world. And I knew that that’s what I would be doing.

I was prepared to change the world.

I knew that I was going to feed the hungry, clothe the naked, house the homeless, and comfort the sad. I had this amazing privilege that would allow me to single-handedly fix everyone’s problems.

I was prepared to change the world.

But…

I was completely prepared for the wrong thing.

I didn’t expect my heart to be broken time and time again, by the structural injustices that perpetuate marginalization, prejudice, racism, and stigmatization.

I was supposed to be the one doing the fixing, not the one being broken.

I wasn’t supposed to feel helpless and uncomfortable and vulnerable.

Remember, I was going to change the world!

I was supposed to be around for a year,
mend some wounds,
bring some joy,
have a good time,
and then move on.

I was supposed to be the one teaching, not the one learning.

I wasn’t supposed to fall in love with Debra, James, Lorraine, Wilbert, David, Mary, Maria, Dynise, Pam, Leola, Vera, Stephen, and countless others.

I wasn’t supposed to sign on for a second year.

Or maybe I WAS supposed to feel broken, and angry, and helpless. Maybe I WAS supposed to learn, and NOT teach. Maybe I was supposed to fall in love.

Because nothing else happened the way it was supposed to.