"Kindness Without Labels"

    I sometimes stop and think about that very popular saying: "Do good without looking at whom." And yes, at first glance it's simple: be kind, help, be a good person, period. But the truth is that for me, the real challenge lies in the second part, in that "without looking at whom."

    Because in real life, it's easy to be good to those who look like us or those we already know. The saying forces me to go further, to look into the eyes of those whom society has pushed into a corner. To those people who, for some reason, have been labeled within a marginalized social construct.

    It could be the neighbor who doesn't talk to anyone, the elderly person who is always alone, or that individual whose appearance or history doesn't fit into what's "expected." We often ignore them or judge them without even knowing why they are there. It is at that moment when the saying takes on a much deeper meaning for me.

    Doing good in this context isn't just about giving something material. It's about recognizing their humanity. About offering a smile, a gesture of respect, a kind word. It's about breaking that invisible wall that separates us and remembering that everyone, absolutely everyone, deserves to be treated with dignity.

    And the thing is, at the end of the day, that wall we build not only isolates them but also impoverishes us. When we close ourselves off to the possibility of connecting with someone due to prejudice, we lose the opportunity to learn, to grow, to discover a story that may be very different from our own. Practicing this saying, in its broadest sense, is an act of courage and humility. It's accepting that goodness has no labels, no conditions, and no borders. It's simply an act of faith in humanity, which reminds us that we are all in this together, despite the differences that others may have wanted to impose on us.

    This idea resonated deeply with me when I remembered the neighborhood where I grew up. Many people there have been marginalized and seen with prejudice, simply for living where they do. And even though the outside world has boxed them in that way, I know firsthand that many of them are good-hearted, hardworking people who simply need a hand. Remembering their faces, their stories, taught me that kindness shouldn't be a privilege for a few. It showed me that doing good, selflessly, is a debt owed to those who have been forgotten.

_{Even though English isn't my first language, I learned it in college. I used the DeepL translator to correct any errors in this writing.}