Memory... "Standoff"

Okay. I have an exclusive of sorts today. I have a story I've never told anyone before. Very rare to be sure. I mean, I suppose there are a lot of little stories I haven't told anyone. I'm sure of it. But none of them are as notable as the one I'm about to tell. And I guess my reluctance in sharing is due to this feeling of... not quite embarrassment, not quite shame, certainly not regret... I don't know what it is exactly. What is it to walk into a risky and dangerous situation, knowing full well the consequences and disregard common sense? Something on the order of insanity or the courageous I think. Maybe a bit of both.

So this happened a few years back. Uhhh... maybe three of four. So I was about 22 or 23. I know it had to be a few years back 'cause I was living in another part of Los Angeles. A nice little middle-class suburb. I liked that city. I had the same little routine there as I do here. I had this nice little route I liked to take on my daily walk. Basically a main street. Which is probably not a good idea, but I love to walk. I'm sure I've done a lot more damage walking about L.A. breathing in pollutants and exhaust than I would have if I just stayed home. :P

So one day, on one of my walks I came across an impasse in the form of a man, or a boy rather. A neo-Nazi type. A ball of smoke and fire, pain and anger. It was clear who he was and what he was about. It was clear who I was and what I was about. I was of color and I was gay. He hated that.

I'd never found myself in a situation like that before. This is L.A. after all. It's a melting pot. Here, he's supposed to be the minority... his way of thinking. But there's room for everything and everyone so I guess it was only a matter of time before we crossed paths. And intolerance isn't so foreign. If you're gay I can't imagine having never been ridiculed for being who you are, or rather that tiny aspect of who you are. I've been called a fag countless times. Which has never amounted to anything because they never speak to who I am as a person. It just doesn't get to me. You'd have to be someone I hold in high regard or care about for something like that to affect me. Even then you'd have to hit all the right notes. We're talking perfect planetary alignment to crack this shell. But that's not to say that it can't get annoying. It can. It has. Thankfully, as a whole, that sorta thing has only taken up less than .01% of my life. And more often than not, when it happens I just laugh it off 'cause it's funny... funny because it speaks more of them than it does of me.

But this was different. This wasn't a flippant display of ignorance slurred from a speeding car. This was more focused, more intense. I find most people don't have the courage, the balls, to say those sort of those things to your face. Usually people are more cowardly. That wasn't the case here. So I at least had some amount of respect for the guy for standing his ground, no matter how shaky and fractured that was. But that was one of the funny things. It's all he did. Stand. He had nothing to say.

This happened at an intersection. One main street and one side street. I was walking along the main street and I was some yards away (15?) from the intersection when I first caught sight of him. I knew what the deal was. I could sense it. It was instinctual. What I imagine a mouse feels when he looks upon a snake. As I said, he didn't say anything... but his body was doing enough of the talking. He was malevolence personified. Before I even approached he began his posturing. He moved from the sidewalk where I presume he was waiting for a bus and walked a couple of feet from the curb onto the street with clenched fists.

So it's a funny thing how much can take place in such a short amount of time. My mind was being flooded. More so than usual. This was a strange time for me. I hadn't yet come out to my family but this was the time I was really coming to terms you might say. Internally I was asserting my... my... my self. And it was just a lot of things. Things were forming. And if you've read any of my previous posts you probably know I've a thing for signs and symbols. This felt like a test. The timing was too perfect, too hot, too fortunate, too opportune, too everything. It was just right.

So now we come to the crux of my reluctance in telling this story before today. It was a choice. I mean really, could the reality of the situation be anymore... I mean I was at a fucking crossroads! Literally! *LOL* I was at a crossroads in every sense of the word. I could have done the... smart(?) thing and taken the other road. To safety. But what that meant for me at that moment and at that time in my life was sooo... grrr! Fuck! No! No fucking way!!! I'm not doing it. Never. Never. This fucker is not going to shame me or terrorize me for being who I am. This is my home. This is my city. This is my street. Fuck you for coming here and trying to invade. Trying to inject your damage and toxicity into my life. Fuck you! You can kill me. I'm not gonna walk away. I'm just not.

In a lot of ways it was stupid. Foolish. I'm so close to my family and I tell them everything. Telling them this would've... would... still be a hard thing to rationalize. They wouldn't want to see me hurt. They want the best for me. I don't know that they'd be exactly disappointed with my choice, but y'know... love sorta supersedes everything. They wouldn't care for the rationalization. They would want me to be safe above all else; understandable. And look, I'm a smart guy. I don't know that you could live in this city and come across unscathed without a ton of prudence in your back pocket. I know when to avoid a dangerous situation. I have before. I will again. But this was just different. It just was. And I don't know that that could be fully understood by anyone not living it. Being on the otherside of everything. Hearing the comments and the laughs. Feeling like you're at odds with the world at large. People telling you there's something wrong with you. You can take it in small doses and it doesn't do a thing. But it adds up. It'd been adding up for years, all my life. And it just gets to a point. A breaking point. This was mine. I was just tired. Tired of it all. Keeping it in. Having to take the other street. No. Not today. Not ever.

So you just throw caution to the wind I guess. It happens. Like I said, I was still in the closet but I knew I was coming to a point of no return. Something I had set up in my own mind. I was meeting people and I was hearing voices from people I'd respected and this was sort of setting the stage for what was to come. Two roads. The life you don't want: weakness, cowardice, deceit and secrecy. The life you do: strength, courage, honesty and openness. I mean is there even a fucking choice there? *L*

And on another level... I mean yeah, I probably could've taken the other road and still have made the changes I did as a result of that day but there was a lot of ego going on that day. I don't know that I could've lived with this guy getting one over on me. For me he was... I created... he became my antithesis. He was the Invader, he was Manifest Destiny, he was the Rapist, he was the Machine... he was all this darkness. More than anything he was Ignorance. How do you let someone like that win? All I kept thinking was, This is my home. I'm sure he didn't have a notion of my ethnicity. But there was something perfect about his being Caucasian and me being Native American. Perfect because of the reading I was involved in at the time and... well like I said, in my mind he was the invader. In my mind I was wondering if I was doomed to this dark legacy of invasion and rape? Not just me but all of us. That Racism was staring me in the face, here in my home, at this time... was too perfect. I couldn't turn away.

I mean really, fuck him for having the balls to flaunt his backward shit in the kingdom of L.A. Where's this fucker get off? I'd never seen his kind before. Not really. I wonder how many people he managed to scare away that day. Did he beat anyone? Did he kill anyone? How the fuck is he walking around? I imagine a problem like that growing out of apathy. People just let him be. People take the other street. Skirt the issue. Walk around the problem. Again, all I could think was, This is my home. This is L.A. And if I did walk away... he wouldn't know. He wouldn't know the size of his victory, but I would. His philosophy would've won out over mine. There's no fucking way someone like that is gonna get one over on someone like me. It's just not possible. It's a universal law. It will never happen. Never.

So yeah, it was a lot of things. More than any of it... beyond the gay thing, the race thing, the political thing... I would just rather die than live in fear of being who I am. Everything that means. Being a man. Being American. Being Navajo. Being gay. Etc. If I can't be who I am... who I want to be... I don't see any reason for being. It's that thing that I feel weird relaying. I knew the danger. I thought, I could die today. I knew I could die and I was okay with that. Not because I wanted to die, but because I wanted to live. I've never been in a real fight. I'm sure he would've had the advantage. He's probably broken men and women like me before, my brothers and sisters. But I was ready to fight. I was tired of doing anything else. Every fiber of my being was pushing me to this moment. I was ready. Ready for anything. I think we all know what it means to feel like something is perfectly right. I certainly know when I do something that's even the tiniest bit askew from my current. This just felt right. And if I died or ended up in the hospital... that's what I needed. That's where my... ... ...was directing me. It's hard to avoid the call.

Luckily for me I'm more balanced than that. I wasn't directing myself toward destruction. It was the growing point. It was... heaven. Don't get me wrong though, I was still scared as shit. *L* When I walked across the street in his direction I tried to walk to his left as though he were just any other stranger. But he wasn't having any of that. He moved to block my passage. All the while I'd kept my gaze directed toward the horizon, the pavement, the cars, anything. But when I knew I wouldn't pass so easily I thought that was it. So I stared him straight in the eye. Then the key turned and the door opened. He just let me pass. He was still posturing as if he were going to do something but he seemed more and more diminished with each passing moment. My breathing slowed and my gaze turned from... what I imagine was a dead stare to a lilting laugh. I had to have had a sparkle in my eye at that moment. And I just kept walking. Though I was never more hyper aware in my life. Someone like that, I don't imagine being the most honorable sort. I could've easily seen being bludgeoned from behind. But I made sure I wasn't taken by surprise. And I just kept walking and I never looked back.

Phew! Sorry for such a long post. :P A sure sign this was never told before I suppose. I had a lot to get out. And I feel all the better for it. So yeah. I love that memory. I hold it close to the heart. And that space, that piece of asphalt I regard as holy land. A testament to strength and courage in the face of ignorance and hatred. I imagine this happens all the time. Not always with the same ending. But in a way, still, always a victory. It's just a role. Something we all must take up at one point or another. And for those who don't make it... we live our lives in reverence to them. Hate. Luck. Anger. Providence. Fear. Courage. It was a lot of things.


DS333, taxed.