What If We Are Not That Different?

We are taught to see differences first.

Different languages, different foods, different traditions. We notice the unfamiliar before we notice what we share. The way someone’s name doesn’t sound like ours. The way they greet their family, the way their holidays don’t match ours, the way their prayers are whispered in a language we don’t understand.

And yet, beneath it all—what if we are not that different?

What if the mother soothing her child in a language you don’t speak is whispering the same comforts your mother once whispered to you?
What if the man behind the counter at your favorite deli once had a dream, just like your grandfather did when he stepped off a boat, or a train, or a plane, into a country that wasn’t yet his?
What if the woman who speaks with an accent you don’t recognize worries about the same things you do—whether she’ll be able to pay the rent, whether her kids will be okay, whether the world she’s leaving behind will still exist when she goes back?

We all celebrate birthdays—with candles, with songs, with wishes whispered into the dark before the candles go out.
We all celebrate love—in ceremonies big or small, with rings or with ribbons, with hands held tightly in lifelong promises.
We all mourn our dead—with flowers, with prayers, with eulogies spoken through tears. We build altars, light candles, keep old sweaters tucked away in closets because letting go feels too final.
We all wait for good news—a test result, a phone call, a letter that says we belong.
We all brace ourselves for heartbreak—the end of a love we thought would last forever, the last conversation with someone we didn’t know was leaving.
We all chase something better—a dream, a future, a life we hope our children will have, even if we never get to see it.

At the end of the day, we all sit at our tables, whether in houses or apartments, in cities or small towns, with home-cooked meals or takeout in plastic containers. We gather with our people, we tell stories, we hold on to the things that make us feel like ourselves.

And so, the question is not why we are different.

The question is, why do we let those differences convince us that we are not the same?