We cloak our bodies in woven fibers of cotton and polyester each day we wake up.

The underwear we slept in comes off only briefly to bathe, until we inevitably step into a costume of ourselves — a costume that can cover our scars, or embody them.

The clothes we wear act as a symbol of who we are and what we’ve seen, but we can only truly express ourselves through our clothing if we know ourselves.

Walking down Grand River Avenue, I notice homeless people in tattered tees, with business slacks and tennis shoes.

These articles of clothing reflect a deteriorating life and status in the world as a productive citizen.

A college student that I assume is a bio or chemistry major wearing a Michigan State hoodie walks briskly past me, paying no attention to what he is wearing. He is significant and could one day contribute to the cure for HIV, but I wouldn’t know from his clothing.

A businessman talking on his cell phone in a tailored suit emanates an air of wealth and power I find off-putting, and a middle-aged woman struggles to walk in her towering heals and suffocating dress, expressing to me she wants attention.

These preconceived notions I assume are a result of our dependence on materials as a sign of character.

Our clothes can shed light on who we are, but only if we know who we are.

The same is true for our cars, our furniture and the books we read, and everything else we own or decide to spend our money on.

We must know ourselves to accurately express ourselves.

Too often it seems we strive to buy things just to be like someone else, or to be better than someone else, instead of expressing who we truly are.

Our addiction to materials uncovers neglect for moral value and intelligence in our society.

It seems people would rather go on a shopping spree than give one to someone who needs it, and would rather be friends with a scumbag millionaire than an honest teacher.

It seems the majority of our judgments derive from what a person owns, and not what they do.

Of course, a world in which people don’t judge is impossible, and there will always be people who care more about the car you drive than the words you speak. But, if we consciously act as a campus to ignore our judgments based on material things, we can create a more interwoven society and campus rooted in compassion and understanding.

This may sound like a hippie constitution for a new world, but it is possible.

When I’ve approached people I wouldn’t have before because of how they’re dressed and resist judging until knowing a person’s true character, I have met truer people.

These are the people who do not care about what I dress like or the kind of phone I have, but rather the strength of my character and the truth of my words.

The outfit I put on embodies who I am, but you don’t know that until you know me. So, don’t look at me and guess where I have been, or what I have seen. Come up to me and ask.

No longer will I accept someone as wealthy just because of their Corvette, and no longer will I assume one man is poorer than the other just because of the torn tie he has on.