Yesterday evening I was reading what I would like to call my favorite book at the moment, and moved by a dialogue by the main female character, I was inspired to write the following.
I tried not to make it too lengthy as usual, so it can be read in few minutes.  
We live in a multicultural world and while one would gladly notice what bring and shape us in togetherness, sometimes we are reminded with uncomfortable truth the differences we all have.
While one would prefer not to see or acknowledge the differences that shape us all, sometimes there is a battle within, a battle aimed to conform and to be like others. And as society goes by and moves on, we find ourselves defined, as if being “defined” could make things less dramatic than being stereotypically categorised in places we wish not to be.
We find ourselves defined by the country we come from, by the language we speak and if it is English, by the accent and quality of our English, so one start speaking in the same manner to veil the identity, to make sure there is no definition because one is not ready to be defined or simple not ready to deal with the corollaries of being oneself bring along. Ultimately one find conforming much preferable than being oneself and having to deal with the responsibilities that come along.
I believe that from the moment we stereotype someone or something about someone we murder our chance of knowing, our chance to understand and appreciate. From that moment we commit the unforgivable error of making someone or something to conform. We prevent chances and we lose possibilities. So when we think of black boys as bad boys or when we assume, based on ignorance, that a Muslim woman wears her veil because forced by someone, or again we believe immigrants to be criminals, we automatically lose our chance to know what bring us together.

We define without right, without permission, without knowledge. We define just to fill our soul with comfortable lies, and in that process we digress instead of progressing, and we commit murder.