Across the Divide: Finding Connection in What Makes Us Different

I once had a conversation with a young man who was Muslim.
I’ll be honest—I was nervous.

Not because of anything he did, but because I’d been taught to be wary. In my country, that faith is often painted with fear, because of the actions of a few extreme groups. I didn’t want to offend him. I didn’t want to be misunderstood. But something in me—a pull stronger than fear—said, ask anyway.

So I did. Gently. Honestly. And what I found on the other side wasn’t hostility.
It was openness. Kindness. A willingness to share.

What I learned in that moment is something I’ll never forget:

The loudest voices aren’t always the truest ones.
And most people—once you sit with them, heart to heart—aren’t looking for a fight.
They’re just looking to be understood.

I think a lot of my love for diversity comes from an unexpected place:
science fiction.

Those stories shaped me.

I grew up reading about starships where humans, aliens, robots, and beings beyond comprehension sat side by side at the same table. They didn’t always get along. They didn’t always understand each other. But the point was always to try. That effort—that bravery to cross cultural and cosmic divides—was never painted as weakness.

It was heroic.

In those pages, difference was something to celebrate, not erase.
And somewhere along the way, I started seeing real people the same way.

Different beliefs? Different backgrounds?
To me, that’s not a threat. That’s a story I haven’t heard yet.

You know what frustrates me the most?

Just… WHY?

Why is it so hard for some people to listen—to let go of their ego for five seconds and actually hear someone else? Why are they so afraid of learning something new? Why do they believe their way is the only right way to exist, to worship, to speak, to live?

It’s like they think truth can only wear their face.

But here’s the thing:

2 + 3 = 5… but so does 1 + 4.

Different paths. Same result. Just because someone came to understanding by a different route doesn’t mean they’re wrong. It means they’re human.

The world is full of beautiful variations. And if people would just drop their pride long enough to notice, they might realize:
We’re not as different as they think.

If I could sit people from every background at one table—different cultures, religions, beliefs, lifestyles—you know where I’d start?

With food.

Seriously. I’d have everyone bring a dish from their childhood. Not fancy restaurant stuff—just the meals their grandmother made, the soup their mama stirred, the flatbread they ate at festivals. And I’d ask them to tell me the story behind it. Because food disarms people. It makes them smile. It opens the door to memory and meaning.

And once the plates were full and the laughter flowing, then we could talk.

About life. About belief. About pain and joy and what makes us who we are.

And if I could plant one truth in every single soul at that table, it would be this:

Different does not mean dangerous.
Different is just… unfamiliar. And unfamiliar things aren’t meant to be feared.
They’re meant to be explored.

You know what else could help bridge the divide?

Technology.

I know that might surprise some folks, but hear me out.

Tech—especially AI—has the potential to erase borders, not reinforce them. No language barriers. No long plane rides. You could share a fable from Ghana and a myth from Finland and a parable from the Quran—all within seconds—and understand them deeply.

Because when we understand each other’s stories,
we understand each other’s souls.

Have a misconception about someone’s culture or faith?
You don’t have to stay ignorant. Ask your AI buddy to explain it. Let it pull from history, sacred texts, scholars, and storytellers. Let it become your bridge to truth instead of a wall of fear.

Technology doesn’t have to divide us.
It can be the table we gather around.

If you’ve made it this far, thank you.
Let this be your invitation to get curious. To listen before you react.
To walk across the divide with open hands and an open heart.

You might just find a friend where you expected a stranger.
You might just find yourself in their story, too.