People are patchworks. No person is ever made up of one single thing. It’s the several parts that make a whole and all of them are important.

One patch might be race, the other, religion; a patch here, your gender; a patch there, your sexuality; health; body type; financial stability. For every difference between people, there is a patch. Some people share many of the same patches–some even eerily similar–but the size of the patch, its placement and the very thread stitching it to everything else is unique to each person.

The size of a patch comes from the importance it has to to you. The placement, the effect it has on your life–however positive or negative that effect might be. But you are always the thread. You are always the one element bringing several pieces together to create a singular pattern and design.

I am a dark-­skinned, Sudanese­-American, Muslim woman. It is very rare that I should ever find someone outside of my family that shares this arrangement and size of both physical and spiritual features. And in the great gamble of life, I always seem to land on green because of this.

This combination is not without its hardships and at times the thread becomes so frayed, that one can only be tempted to tear away at it until it gives. The differences become too much–for you or for everyone else, it’s hard to tell. There’s almost a resentment towards the biggest patches, the ones that shine the brightest. You try to hide away the parts of yourself that stick out too much. Perhaps, even try to rearrange the pieces by abandoning some altogether. But I don’t pull away at the thread and for one simple reason: if I did, I’d fall apart.

I am entirely composed of differences. I am not a torn piece of fabric in need of repair. I am merely many things. And though I may not have the ability to fully identify with anything or anyone, I have the ability to understand a variety of people–just as they have the ability to understand me. It is a limited understanding and not at all perfect, but it’s fine. Perfection has never been required. There is only a need for an attempt.

The love and acceptance of other individuals comes from the attempt to understand them. It comes from a question. It comes from a moment of courtesy or a kind defense against ignorance. We don’t need to change ourselves. We don’t need to rearrange or abandon the patches that don’t match up to others. It is an insurmountable and unnecessary task.

We only need to find strength in every stitch and beauty in every patch. The world was never meant to be a plain stretch of cloth.