You call me Other, like I am less than you. What makes me Other? Is it my eyes, different in shape, size and color from yours? Or is it my skin, so milky pale, filled with lines and snags? Is it my shape, soft and pillowy? Or maybe it is just that I am not you.
I take this word Other and I will make it mine. I will proudly proclaim that I am Other because I am different than you. I will shout it from the hilltop and whisper it to my brothers and sisters. So what are you?