I wanted to write a memoir about the first time I experienced racism. It was my first time away from the Chicagoland area. I moved to northern Virginia to attend seminary. I thought I would be spending time with like-minded theology students who were preparing themselves for lives in ministry. In many ways, I was mistaken. This has been a very emotional process for me as I remember how much I was rejected by my peers. One of them told me he did not know what to do with me. He said that because I did not look black, he couldn’t call me a nigger. He said on the other hand that I didn’t look white either. I had long dark brown hair and eyes to match with light olive skin. In my mind, I always looked Spanish and I could not understand why it mattered so much to this fellow student. From him, I found out why I was outcast, overlooked by professors and administrators alike for two and a half years.