I travel Europe every couple of weeks. I just came back from

In the words of Montel Williams, a man who has walked many paths and seen the world with open eyes, we hear a sober truth: “I travel Europe every couple of weeks. I just came back from London, Holland, and Denmark. Every nation on this planet has its issues with race, and I am not sure if everyone has figured out how to deal with it.” These words, though spoken plainly, strike like an ancient bell in the heart, for they speak not only of journeys across lands but of the deeper journey of humanity—our struggle to see one another not as strangers, but as kin.

To travel Europe, or indeed any land, is more than to move across geography. It is to witness the character of nations, to see not only their triumphs but their struggles. Williams, by moving across borders, sees that the question of race is not confined to one country or one people; it is a wound carried by all humanity, a shadow stretching across the earth. His words remind us of an ancient truth: wherever men divide themselves into “us” and “them,” conflict is born, and wherever they learn to see “we,” harmony begins.

The mention of London, Holland, and Denmark shows us that even in places celebrated for progress, wealth, and enlightenment, the human heart wrestles with division. The ancients, too, faced this. The Athenians scorned those they called “barbarians,” believing only Greeks capable of true reason. The Romans, though masters of empire, often looked with disdain upon the peoples they conquered, even as they depended on them for strength. Thus, Williams’ words echo across centuries: the problem of exclusion, of racial and cultural division, is as old as civilization itself.

Consider the story of Mahatma Gandhi in South Africa, who though trained as a lawyer was cast from a train because of the color of his skin. This humiliation sparked in him a fire that would one day liberate a nation and inspire the world. Yet his story also shows the truth Williams reveals: that prejudice is not the burden of one land, but of many, repeating itself in countless forms across the globe. Every nation carries its own version of this struggle, and none can claim to be free of it.

And here lies the piercing wisdom: Williams confesses he is “not sure if everyone has figured out how to deal with it.” This honesty is its own lesson. For the temptation of leaders and teachers is to pretend certainty, to speak as though the answers are already in hand. But to admit uncertainty is the beginning of wisdom. The first step to healing is recognizing that the wound is still open, that the work is unfinished. His words call us not to despair, but to humility—to acknowledge that the path toward justice is a path we are still walking together.

The lesson is clear: race and division are not problems of one people, but of all peoples. No nation may look upon another with smugness, for each carries its own shadows. The wise traveler, like Williams, sees this truth and speaks it plainly: the solution is not yet fully found. But in this admission lies hope, for only by confessing the struggle can we commit ourselves to labor for its resolution.

So I say to you, heirs of the future: travel as Williams did, and open your eyes. See the humanity in all lands, and learn from both their virtues and their faults. Do not deny the presence of division, but face it with courage. Speak of it honestly, as he did, and work in your time to lessen it. For though no nation has fully solved the problem, every soul that chooses love over hatred, unity over separation, adds one stone to the bridge that will one day carry all of humanity across the abyss of division.