It was a thursday. I was walking home from work just like any other day. I was almost to my house. Maybe another block or so.
I was so close.
I usually jog the last two blocks to keep in shape, but I hurt my ankle that day walking up stairs. I told myself “not running for one day won’t hurt me.”
How wrong I was…. Oh how wrong I was.
A large, red truck pulled up beside me. 5 very large white men were watching me. Just glaring. They had a giant confederate flag hanging from their trunk.
I started to jog. Run., Sprint. They just sped up with me.
I finally saw my house. I was so close to my driveway. I was safe.. I dared to look back, hoping they had left.
One of them jumped out of the trunk. Another one of them tossed him a crowbar. I knew what was about to happen.
I knew that I couldn’t do anything about it. They were bigger than me….
Faster than me...
Stronger than me...
Whiter than me.
The rest of them jumped out while the driver parked his truck. Two of them had crowbars, the others just had their fists.
I can’t remember exactly what happened next. I remember tasting blood. Pain soared through my body. I couldn’t identify which parts of me hurt. It all did.
I woke up to a bright, white, light. Beeping in my ears. I started to sit up.
It all hurt.
A doctor walked up to me, he was white, I couldn’t help but to flinch. He started to talk to me.
“Broken ribs…… bleeding…… lucky to be alive….”
Nothing processed. I just sat there, wondering.
How could this have ever happened?
How come no one stopped them?
How come racism still exists?
I lived in a predominantly white neighborhood. There were houses all around where I got attacked. Some one had to have seen me, yet no one helped.
As soon as I was released from the hospital, I looked for a new house. Out of that neighborhood. I couldn’t look outside without seeing their faces looking down on me. I moved into an apartment building with only black tenants, like myself. I moved into the blackest neighbourhood. It didn’t fit my social standing, but I felt safe. Surrounded with others that are like me. People I know will fight back.
I heard of 3 others that get beat just like me within 2 months of my attack. Two of them weren’t as lucky as I was. I keep in touch with the third.
It’s been almost a year since it happened. I still can’t look a white person in the eyes, and I can’t go close to a large, white, man. They left many scars on my body, but the most prominent one is in my head.
Nothing has been the same since...