I sat down at the International Assembly on Friday as two leadership students bounded out to fire up the crowd, wondering aloud if certain nationalities were in attendance.

“Where are our Polynesians at!?” was answered with moderate enthusiasm.

“Where are our Europeans and Asians at!?” followed, to a barely audible response.

Through these and other similar questions it was confirmed that we do, in fact, also have Latinos, African-Americans, and even an Armenian or two.  Because of course, any student unaware that M-A is a diverse community can only be enlightened by a heritage-based roll call.

Is it too time-consuming to call for the whites and Asians separately? I doubt it; we made time for the Armenians. Did the school deem the two races similar enough to just make one group? That might make sense if they had called on Americans and Canadians, but come on- Europeans and Asians even have separate continents to their name.

“Injustice!” I heard Caucasian junior Noah Stid roar in mock seriousness as he walked down the hall after the leaving the assembly. “We count too!”

“No taxation without representation!” I heard another, historically well-informed, white student shout.

The performances did little to appease my wounded racial pride. I saw the rest of the school come together as one through Mexican, Polynesian, and African-American heritage-inspired dances, and I felt conspicuously left out. Darn it M-A, I want Michael Flatley and I want him now! Give me an Irish jig at the very least.

Though in retrospect, I have to wonder if whites didn’t get a dance to spare us the embarrassment of putting our race’s inferior dancing abilities on public display.

As I shuffled out of the auditorium, the resulting tragedy was starkly apparent. Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a group of African-American students, Polynesian students, Latino students, and Mrs. Nersesian holding hands and singing Beatles songs in a loving display of their newfound acceptance of one another.  And out of the corner of my other eye, I saw the white and Asian population of M-A: broken-hearted, sobbing, and praying for cultural acceptance.

I expected to become a brand-new person that day–– the result of most school assemblies, as I’m sure all students know. Alas, I did not grow united with my fellow students through cultural dance. I left wondering why whites and Asians, a large percentage of our student body, were conspicuously overlooked.