I grew up in Cherry Hill, New Jersey, but I was born in Philadelphia. My parents decided when I was about five years old that our family would benefit from a change of location that gave us more access to quality education, varied experiences, and advancement in our society and our career aspirations. They believed that they had a responsibility as leaders within their own community to open the door of opportunity for others like them, to keep that door open, and to change the conversation for other groups who may not have interacted with people like them yet.

I didn’t get the whole “racism spiel.” Moving from the city to the suburbs was just a new, fun thing for me. I didn’t have that knowledge that maybe my odds would be a little bit better if I lived in a place where there were a few more white faces—or that there were even structures that were built for my failure, or my limitation. But I’m grateful for that shield that my parents provided for my sister and me because when you feed someone the possibility of restraint, it forever becomes a part of their reality.

The first time I got a hint of what was really going on was when I was playing with some of my friends in elementary school. I was the only black girl in my entire grade and one of 20 African American students in my entire elementary school. So, we were at recess, and we decided to play one of those imaginary games called “house,” but I wasn’t a part of the family; I was the maid. I didn’t really think anything about that. I thought I was just cleaning, and I was having a great time. But when I went home and told my mom about the day that I had, it was the first time I saw her enraged. At that point, I understood something at that young age of five—that the world that I thought I knew wasn’t as true as it seemed, and that I had to change.

When an individual or a family comes from a marginalized community and decides to push past the system, they willingly take on a lifestyle of duality. And this is not a negative thing—I’m sure many of you are accustomed to sharing different parts of yourselves with circles of friends—just some of us do it on a daily basis. My family and I liken this idea to the words of apostle Paul. In 1 Corinthians 9:22, he says, “I have to become all things to all people, so that by all possible means, I might save some.” When we open our lives to understand and be a part of other communities, we create a platform for our own voices to be heard.

Our society is built on a subtly insidious system of separation rather than integration, especially when it comes to personal connection and togetherness. Our world is composed of categories and subcategories—they include interests, musical genres, sports teams, and even health care. Humans have devised an incredible way to organize information, but this insidiousness creeps in when we give the same treatment to our fellow man. True human growth and connection is made through crossing cultural boundaries and breaking down these invisible walls that we have built up to separate ourselves.

To those of you who feel as though your voice is not as loud as others, and those who feel that your voice is quite loud enough, here now is your chance to intentionally disrupt a system that limits the growth of our community. Would you please stand with me?

As you stand, I commission you all to now straddle the line between comfortableness and uncomfortability, to walk within your own community and one that you have not experienced. Take up the mantle of duality—no, the mantle of multiplicity—because it is not just black or white; it is many things, it is many colors, it is many walks. Take an initiative by participating in, as well as starting, conversations. Immerse yourself and engage in communities that you don’t often identify with. There are events here held by student organizations and faculty, from the ALANA community, from the LGBTQ community. Faculty, there are resources here at your fingertips at Ithaca College. But the work doesn’t just stop here on our campus. It is a daily lifestyle that we all commit ourselves to, which is why I asked you all to stand because it is a physical representation of an intentional action that you have to make every single second and every single day.

It won’t be easy. And some people might confuse your duality as hypocrisy or selling out, but understand, as Paul did, that we must become all things to all men and women, all genders, all colors and creeds, to win for ourselves a more deeply connected union.