I am a 42-year-old soccer mom. My name is Mika. I am racially-mixed and follow one major world religion, sort of. Just let the stereotypes wash through your brain right now. What triggers those thoughts for you? Is it being a "soccer mom"? Is it my name's origins? Is it my racial identity crisis? Is it my religious dichotomy?

I get it. You introduce yourself as new college graduate with a B.A. in journalism. Yes. I think of you as probably saddled with student loan debt. I wonder why you picked a college major that is so threatened with the new developments in AI. I wonder if you struggle with gender issues like so many young people these days. So yes. I do it too. The first moments of connection and all of a sudden I built up your life style and your very humanity in my own mind.

Now here is the where the story changes from the worn out rhetoric of social divisions, stereotyping, judgements, political mindsets, and just plain jumping to conclusions.

It's a recipe. This recipe changes everything. We meet each other. Same story. Soccer mom meets someone new. This time, however, my eyes and ears stay open. My mind is clear and open. Here is my story again. I am 42 years old. I drive my son with Autism to soccer practice because I dream about him finally making friends and learning to be part of a team. My racial background is rich and vast and I embrace cultural traditions from around the world. I am a spiritual person and I delve into the beauty of some profound religious beliefs, but I keep this private because I don't want others to be uncomfortable with my talk of religion. I told you my story. Now tell me yours.