Alexandra Zuluaga, 16
Being a light-skinned Hispanic isn’t easily accepted by Latinos. Sitting on the Blue Line, I’m seen by some as an absent-minded, above-the-struggle white girl in preppy clothing. My skin doesn’t bear a sun-kissed glow, and sometimes, out of sheer annoyance from hearing them talk about me in our native language, I call my mother and let the lush sound of Spanish fill the corners of the train. I sense surprise making its way onto people’s faces, and I walk off the train self-assured, proud to be Colombian.