No, my (Polish) mum wasn't cleaning my dad's office when they met

A few years ago, I was taking up French evening classes. The audience consisted mainly of working people, with just a few students like me. After a few classes a pretty, shy girl in her early twenties joins in. She introduces herself briefly, saying her name and that she comes from Romania. My first thought was: how good of her, she's spiking up her French to improve her work prospects - in the informal cleaning industry, that is. Dutch being nearly impossible, she should get around well with French. Never mind that the language school was in Leuven, a major university city in Belgium. Never mind that if she didn't know Dutch, and really wanted to find such a job, she probably would have been gone straight to Brussels in the first place.

It's the perfect, yet very embarrassing, illustration of what the Nigerian writer Chimamanda Adichie talks about in her TED-talk: it is easy to judge people by their nationality, rather than as the person who they are by their own right. It is dangerously easy to forget that everybody has his or her own story about who s/he is as a person. Yes, nationality can play a role in it, but it's not because you're from an African country that you listen to tribal music every single minute of the day, or that you don't know what an electric cooking stove is. It's not because you have a cleaning lady from a poor family, that they aren't capable of being creative, of producing quality products they can sell to generate an income.

When I walk on the street, when I sit on the train, or when I am traveling in far-away countries, I always wonder what people's story is. Especially with those old people whose wrinkled faces vividly tell you that they've gone through quite some history. Even though I die to hear their stories, I'm often too embarrassed to ask. I envy people who have this natural flair and get all these stories out of people. Like this guy who has walked from his home in Belgium to Santiago de Compostela with a camera on his shoulder, meeting the most random people on his way, who tell him their deepest life stories.

The more people I meet, the less I associate them with countries. Rather, I start associating countries with those people. Myself, I've given up trying to hide my true story. You never know who it is you're meeting, if you're going to see him or her ever again, and, most importantly, how impacting the real story of yourself can be on that person. I'm always surprised by the amount of goodness that I find in people. It often makes me wonder - where is it, then, all this negativity I hear about in the media? What stops us from a peaceful society, where people actually enjoy living together and embrace diversity?

I guess it's just that much easier to hide in your own shell, keep that hostile - because unknown - outside world far away, prey to your prejudices. I am guilty, too. Aren't we all, sometimes? But then I think of all the missed opportunities to share a positive view on our society with others, all the fascinating people that are walking around there, bringing hope by being the persons they are, instead of the negative people take them for. It could be the beginning of wonderful friendship with a talented exchange student seeking opportunities she doesn't get back home to put her great talents to practice, I can tell you that!