We are often told that it’s ok to be different. My younger version would definitely agree. Growing up Indian, I had the benefit of teachers repeating instructions a bit louder and slower. I never worried about getting injured on the baseball field, because I got to sit on the bench. My parents never had to worry about driving me to sleepovers, though I was seemingly friends with everyone in school. I looked different, and was treated differently. I was often bullied for who I was and thought the best way to make it stop, was to fit in. I started wearing similar clothing, walking, talking and acting like the kids around me. I had lost whom I was, was no better assimilated, and was still picked on. I had enough. If I couldn’t fit in, no matter