“Culture is what presents us with the kinds of valuable things that can fill a life. And insofar as we can recognize the value in those things and make them part of our lives, our lives are meaningful.” Gideon Rosen, Stuart Professor of Philosophy, chair of the Council of the Humanities and director of the Program in Humanistic Studies, Princeton University.


Throughout my lifetime I've come to realize that the world is only as bitter as I make it. Especially under circumstances that involve an ethical dilemma, it will always be up to me to discern whether something really is what it seems. There's nothing easier than to dismiss the benefit of the doubt in certain situations, but there's also usually nothing more valuable than to do otherwise. I wasn't always aware of this, at least not until a few years ago while visiting my family in Mexico before I was able to look further beneath what was physically visible to me.


Walking around the Zocalo in downtown Tlaxcala, surrounded by inspirational faces preparing decadent treats and intellectual minds conversing along the church stairs, I spotted a merchant with bottles of body lotion labelled "Bath and Body Works" stacked upon a bright pink cart beside her wooden stand. Her straightened hair reached just up to the beginning of her well-ironed suit, which distinguished her from the crowd of families wearing woolen scarves and plaid jackets. "Auténtico de los Estados Unidos! Made in America!" she chanted while offering samples to all of the passers-by holding churros and hot chocolate.


I sneered at her smiles, which were seemingly artificial to me at the time, just like the labels wrapped around the bottles of lotion. Being from the United States myself, I was often able to tell the difference between genuine and counterfeit goods, which led me to the conclusion that this woman was charging way too much for something that wasn't what it seemed. I ignored her advertisements and walked past the flowery scents on my path to an eloté (corn) stand, with my sister by my side. "Can you believe people fall for that?" I remarked. But the second I did, the merchant's eyes and mine met, and her gregarious expression turned to one of worry, as if she could sense what I had inferred. I turned away, trying not to second-guess my pessimistic first impression of her motives.


Later that night, after the vendors had begun to close up shop, I saw the same pink cart rolling down the pavement, being pushed by someone who looked completely different. She wore sneakers instead of heels, a scarf instead of a collared blazer, but she bore the same anxious appearance as she did the last time I saw her. An intimidating man walked up to her, with whom she exchanged the cart for what looked like just a few pesos, then shivered away with a young girl in hand. I had finally seen what I was too cynical to see before. Beneath that black suit was a mother in need, which led me to realize that whatever she was doing to survive was just as dignifying as anything my own mother has done in similar situations. I used to focus solely on the negative elements of my life and the world, but I've now learned how to see beyond them.