Growing up, race wasn't talked about very often. We didn't think of people as black, white or brown as much as we did American, Colombian or Korean. The idea of being a minority was new to me until I got to university.

I stood out in Colombia, that's for sure. My light colored hair and my green eyes were definitely rare. I was quite a bit taller than most women and my pale skin didn't help me blend in with the beautiful brown skin tones. I was used to being in a room where I looked different than the people around me. But I didn't feel like a "minority."

Then, at the University of Illinois, I self-identified as Latina, but my Caucasian features never set me apart as one. If not for my self-identification, I'd easily pass for a white girl from the Chicago suburbs. And so, my "minority status" really didn't have much of an impact on my daily life.

But last week I spent the week at the Chicago Urban Project (CUP). I was a volunteer staff leader and joined dozens of university students on the west side of Chicago. Including staff and students, there were five of us who were ethnically white. There were three black individuals, eight latinos and the rest of the individuals were Asian or Asian American. Certainly, it was a feeling of displacement.

I felt like a minority.

Did people make comments about me being white? No.
Did I ever feel insulted because I was white? No.
Was I discriminated against? Absolutely not.

And yet, the whole time, I was so aware of my skin color.

I was able to identify with friends who have shared with me that they are the only brown or black person in a certain environment. I'd instantly jump into a protective mode asking if they felt discriminated against, or excluded or anything. The answer was generally "no," but it didn't stop them from being extremely aware of their own skin color.

I began wondering whether I would become less aware the longer I stayed in that environment, or would I only be less aware in white-majority environments? Could this be something I got used to? Would it wear off? Did I want it to ever go away? Could I even live in a majority-white environment and be aware of my white skin or would I sink back into a complacent hole of normality?

And while I was hyper-aware of my skin color and of those around me, I was also sensitive to the strong love and acceptance in the room. Our differences didn't separate, didn't divide; there was a breakthrough from tolerance into love. Watching that happen confirmed the beautiful them of the week: "God's Good News for our Broken World." My awareness of race and ethnicity that week certainly opened my eyes to a lot of the brokenness in our world, but I was able to personally experience some of God's news... and that was great news!