Saturday, May 19, 2007

love and war

For the second time, I've had a racially motivated "issue" on the subway. For the record, I'm a white male, blonde haired and blue eyed. This will be understood to be the Unforgiveable Sin, if not the only sin, in New York City. The anatagonists have in both cases been Black males. The first time, there were three, this morning, only one. Had he not outweighed me by about 50 pounds, I doubt I would have had the pleasure of his acquaintance.

Granted, the subway doesn't always bring out the gentleman in people. Nonetheless, I see a pattern. It began with the typical Body-check, followed by the Menacing Stare. And finally, the Polite Question: "sir, do you have a problem? SIR, DO YOU HAVE A PROBLEM?!" I did allow that, if he were to follow me, he could find out if I had a problem. I should have let it go, but I was in a weak moment.

This morning was not his morning, though. Because, upstairs at Grand Central, when I asked him what it was he wanted, and he started in with "YOU come up to ME and GET IN MY FACE?" and, "IF WE WERE IN MY NEIGHBORHOOD, I'D BEAT THE SHIT OUT OF YOU!" we happened to be standing opposite a policeman.

My bright friend turned to the cop and bellowed, "you DID see him come up to me, COP?" Then he began tapping me on the nose with his finger. The (not white) cop, having come to stand between us, had asked a few questions and then radioed for assistance, while my new friend ranted on, forgetting how he had accosted me on the platform, but remembering how I "came up to" him upstairs.

He was asked repeatedly to leave, to calm down, but instead he made more and more noise. By the time he stepped outside, a half dozen or so large and well armed (and racially quite mixed) security personnel were trotting purposefully to the scene. I stood there for a moment, dumbfounded.

And then I went on my way. And I thought, maybe it is time to move to Connecticut.

Can you hear the sound New York City makes? Tick-tick-tick-tick.

Now here's some truth about this: It's not about color, necessarily. It's about attitude. Urban American Blacks are taught to Hate Whitey, an attitude that makes the small percentage that embrace it a menace to themselves and to others.
The "blonde-haired, blue-eyed devil" gospel is continually fostered and traded upon by shameless manipulators of the Al Sharpton ilk. It's not the only hate that's stoked in this city: there is class-hatred, sex-hatred, occupation-hatred, etc. But it is a particularly volatile hatred. It's especially noticeable to those of us who have blonde hair and blue eyes.
Immigrant Blacks, and perhaps the majority of Urban American Blacks, for that matter, have no such hostility and are genuinely wonderful fellow citizens. Many, I daresay the overwhelming majority, are Christian, incidentally.
It's just an observation.


Blogger Southern Partisan said...

All's well that ends well.

I have visited NYC and found it to be safe and most everybody pleasant. I understand that there are thousands of angry and hateful people there, and my travels have been very limited.

Glad you landed on your feet.

8:25 PM  

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