We're all vulnerable. So am I.
Our mind, filled with millions of memories can make us vulnerable.
A certain character trait or a flaw.
The people we love and, who surround us day by day - all of these make us vulnerable.
I am no exception.

What makes me vulnerable is something that embraces me all the time.
Something that is defined in a miracle called DNA. Something that I have no influence on.
It is a sensitive organ covering of my body, called skin.
A biological embracement, able to feel every touch and every pain, able to react to heat and cold, just like every other skin does.
The only difference is the colour, which is caused by a greater amount of a pigment, called melanin in my skin.
This doesn't mean I'm of less worth. It doesn't give anyone the right to treat me as if I was of less worth.
And it's unfair. If someone wants to judge me, then judge me on my work, on my school performance, on my social behavior; on anything apart from this insignificant thing that is skin colour.

I was confronted with this issue today when my teacher and I talked about my future and if I ever thought about becoming a teacher. It made me think. And it made me aware that I live in a country where racism still exists in such a fatal amount and it's a shame. The uncertainty and fear of what I would have to face as a teacher here, made me doubt pursuing to be a teacher.
I don't know if I could be strong enough.

Strength. A powerful and precious thing to own.
Vulnerability. A word which is burned into our foreheads.