The Freedom Writers Diary - Erin Gruwell [98]
When we went to Washington, D.C., Ms. Gruwell let everybody choose his or her own roommates. In Washington, D.C., it was obvious to Ms. Gruwell that everybody chose the people they felt more comfortable with. “New York is going to be different,” she explained. This time around, she was going to chose our roommates for us. Ms. Gruwell can never do things the simple way. She always has some big teaching scheme even when we are nowhere near a classroom. The room situation ended up being one of the best lessons of my life.
The first night in our rooms scared me because there were four girls—three being of different races. The only reason I felt uncomfortable was because I have never experienced sharing a room, a bed, or a bathroom with people outside of my race. When I was a little girl I had three best friends who happened to be Chinese, African American, and Caucasian. They had sleepovers all the time, but I never attended any of them because my father did not allow it. He always told me that he had provided a house for me to sleep in, and that I had no business sleeping in someone else’s house. I soon began to wonder whether my father was old-fashioned or prejudiced.
I did not know about my father’s true feelings until I was fifteen years old. My older sister had a boyfriend who was African American. One night my sister and father had an argument. I heard him say that if she ever married her boyfriend, he would never give her his blessing. It was depressing to hear, but the truth finally came out about him. He was prejudiced, and it hurt.
Now, all of the sudden in New York City, my roommates were ironically African American, Caucasian, and Asian, just like my best friends back in elementary school. I felt very uncomfortable changing in front of them at first, especially sleeping in the same bed with an Asian girl. All I could think about was my father. I woke up the next day tired and restless. We all took showers in the morning and walked down to breakfast on time. There was hardly any communication between us the first evening, but the second night would be different.
After a long day in the city, we finally returned to our hotel rooms. We were hungry and decided to order room service, but we didn’t have any idea what we were getting ourselves into. Three hamburgers, two fries, one chicken sandwich, and drinks ended up costing us $43.11! New York was expensive and we could not stop laughing at the cost. After we ate, we starting talking, and before we knew it, it was four o’clock in the morning. The next day we began to share clothes, shoes, toothpaste, and even deodorant.
My experience made me realize my father’s beliefs were wrong. I felt a strong bond grow between me and my roommates. I believe that I will never again feel uncomfortable with a person of a different race. When I have my own children someday, the custom I was taught as a child will be broken, because I know it’s not right. My children will learn how special it is to bond with another person who looks different but is actually just like them. All these years I knew something was missing in my life, and I am glad that I finally found it—
Diary 117
Days like this create memories worth living for. My day began with tears of happiness after receiving the Spirit of Anne Frank Award, and ended with tears of sadness after watching the play of The Diary of Anne Frank on Broadway. The Freedom Writers also had the privilege to meet and bond with prestigious people and some New York City high school students.
At breakfast, the Freedom Writers were exhausted from staying up late the night before, but we were looking forward to receiving the award. Later that day, when we arrived at the ceremony, all eyes were set upon us. The award had never been presented to so many people at one time, and this showed the true symbolism of our cause.
We were the last ones on the program to receive the award. One of the recipients