Reality sinks in as we hear the news from our host mom. Beneath her tears were words of emotion for the boy. Emotions from the few memories she overwhelming sense that the world is just not fair. He lived only fifteen years. Mauled beyond recognition, only to be identified by the bloodied clothes. were now all too real in neighborhood we lived in.As I struggled to comprehend what she was sharing, the frustration of not understanding the culture and language sunk in. How I wished to be able How I wished I could mourn with her. Still, there is much I don’t understand. Appropriately responding to death in this town was one of them. So reality friends here must continue living with this tragedy. We, on the other hand, will fly away to our homes in a few short weeks. All of the people here have lived live in a state of fear and despair. We, however, look forward to another rewarding year of college. They can’t trust the police to watch the streets, nor trust to pave them. But we have police guarding every construction site in Boston. At home, we expect safety and justice. But here, there seems to be a shortage abundance of poverty and injustice. And all these unresolved crimes leave no closure for these families. So why would they choose to live in a place like this? ever want to call this their home? Why not stay in the beautiful land of Oaxaca, where their families once lived? They speak so fondly of it. They miss it they just return? Oh wait, they can’t… And so reality sinks in again. Why were they forced to move to the city? Why couldn’t they find work in Oaxaca? make a living here? Why do so many fathers have to cross the border? Why doesn’t their government protect them from the violence? From the drugs? policies that destroyed their livelihoods? Why were these people exploited so easily? And why are they still being oppressed?There are too many reasons why. My past research now faces the present reality before me. That question no longer merely exists as my final paper That question is the reality they face every night and every day. That question is the reality that I now must face. And so reality deals me a new question. ignore. A question I cannot BS my way around. This is no academic exam. I’m playing for keeps now, because this question is beyond just me. Yet, it with me. A summer in the slums of Mexico City has changed my reality. It has changed me. I saw brokenness. I saw hope. I saw sorrow. I saw joy. I saw who I have become. And so every day I wake up, and I ask myself… What am I going to do about this new reality I see?