When I return to the scene of the white neighborhood from a distanced point of view, it seems almost picturesque. I don't think about what is normal and what is not because, in a way, I feel that we take "normal" and internalize the oppression that dominant society imposes on us, thus leaving a sense of inadequacy for granted. We accept it as what is appropriate and right, even though it may not be as if we have been blinded. Coming back to the scene, it's satisfying and perfect as it is. When I add myself back into the story, that's when picturesque and social norms are disrupted. The scene is no longer “normal” because I am the strange one. That's when people begin to see that there is a barrier between what is considered normal and what is considered abnormal. The norms of our culture were invisible until they were violated by me. Last year I went on a school trip to Italy. Since the group was mostly composed of Chinese students, we were harassed by Italian citizens throughout the trip. This was because the Italians assumed we were lower class Chinese tourists even after we informed them that we were American students and demonstrated our knowledge of the English language. Because of this assumption, we were treated differently. They refused to welcome us, for fear that we would steal or cheat. They assumed we were cheap and wouldn't pay ours