Music blasted from the speakers as the DJ spun hip-hop records on the turntable. The crowd was alive and the heat was on. People danced on each other as sweat dripped from their bodies.

Next night, another party.

The music was so quiet that I couldn't tell what it was. People laughed and drank in the front yard with friends. One guy threw a beer keg in the street.

But with all the differences between the parties, I didn't feel out of place.

Wondering where I was both nights? Right here in E.L.

At the first party, everybody looked like me; everyone was black. The next night, I was one of only two blacks there.

After four semesters, I've come to realize that our campus is segregated. I've learned we stick to people who look like us, who we can relate to and who we're comfortable around.

It's weird that nearly 51 years after the civil rights movement began, I'm still using the word segregation. Though there aren't signs saying blacks can't sit here or Asians can't go there, we still put up walls to isolate ourselves from other people.

Didn't we break down all those barriers in the '60s?

But it doesn't stop at the parties. When I walk into the cafeteria, it's there. Yeah, it might look diverse. But look really closely.

Ah, now you see it.

Asians sit with each other. Latinos sit with each other. Blacks sit with each other. You might spot one mixed table, but what about the others?

I believe the root of the problem is where we come from. Michigan is a pretty segregated state, with many MSU students coming from cities of mostly black or mostly white people. For instance, if you grew up in Detroit, as I did, where it's 80 percent black, you might have trouble adjusting to a predominately white environment.

People tend to stick to where they come from. Some find it hard to step out of their comfort zone and open up to something they're not accustomed to. It might be hard to do it at first, but it will be worth it.

As a freshman, I worked at Steve & Barry's University Sportswear, 515 E. Grand River Ave. It was the first place I worked where I was the only minority. I must admit, it was weird at first. I thought, "Will they like me?" When I caught someone laughing, I thought they were making fun of me.

But I later learned that wasn't the case. I began to ask questions and open up to my co-workers. We had similar interests that ranged from the Detroit Pistons to Destiny's Child.

We gave each other advice on school and even personal problems. I made lasting friendships. Though I'm not working at the store anymore, my relationships with the people I met there haven't changed. Whenever I see them around campus, we have tons to talk and laugh about.

I realized if I didn't step out of my comfort zone, I would've missed a chance to make friends.

After that party, I headed back to my dorm. As I walked, I noticed cars filling the streets with music coming from them so loudly that the windows vibrated. Porches were crowded as if it were a scene from Belle Isle (a popular park in Detroit). Hubbard Hall was crowded. Again I looked around and I saw that everyone looked like me. Where was the diversity?

It's time to break the cycle. Open up and try new things. Take risks. Meet a new friend outside your race. Learn a new language and I am not talking about from class but maybe from the person standing right next to you at the bus stop.

It's time to make Martin Luther King Jr.'s dream a reality — now.