Loud music, pulsing lights, poofing dresses, glitter, makeup, dancing, singing. It's all one big party, with families and friends dancing together, laughing together. Everyone chants and sings along, simply flooding with joy in the midst of a celebration of life and passage. One young lady has turned fifteen, and is becoming a woman; today is her quinceanera.

For those who don't know, a quinceanera of Spanish culture (the celebration of a young woman's fifteenth birthday) is similar to the 'American' concept of a Sweet Sixteen. Parents throw extravagant parties for their baby girls, invite everyone they know, and have one huge, choreographed celebration.

I went to one this week for a family friend of Karla's. We just stopped by, but while Karla was talking to old friends, I took a moment to go a bit stalker-mode and start people-watching. I simply observed the events unfolding around me, and I quickly realized that though so many things around me were vastly foreign, they were simultaneously extremely familiar.

Here's the thing - dads are dads, no matter their skin color. They always think they can dance (at least enough to embarrass their daughters), they make corny jokes, and their eyes sparkle with love for their wives.

Moms are moms. They are overprotective, they love to stick to their circles of friends, and they love to bust out a random move every now and again in joking fashion. They love their children, and it hurts them to see their babies growing up.

Teenage boys and girls are, simply, teenagers. Guys will always think they're too cool to dance - especially with their parents -, and they are always a little shy about approaching the girls at a party. And girls will always run around and giggle at the silly little boys, and will dance awkwardly with their friends but not really care about the fact that other people can also see their jokes and laughter.

I realized something in my moment of people-watching... People are people, no matter what. There are always huge differences, so far as culture and beliefs go, but people are people. Give them freedom, give them opportunity, and anyone can see themselves in another darker- or lighter-skinned person.

Fifteen years ago, a time that I have scarce memories of, the nation was drawn together by the events of one crippling blow to our Homefront. If there is one thing I remember from that moment in our history, it's that no one cared what color your skin was. No one thought about how much pigment was in your skin; the bottom line in that moment was that we were all Americans. We were all people. In that moment, we found a beautiful heart in our country, and it's one that we've lost.

Today, the first thing someone sees about another person is their skin color. Today, we need to be blind to our shades of brown. Today, we need to see people