Fights, Flights, and Subway Trains

I can honestly say that I have never been in a fight in my entire life: sibling fights don't count and scuffling with my stupid cats doesn't count. I mean that I have never waged actual, physical, non-sporting violence against another human being. This isn't a statement of ethics or boasting; it may sound like a punchline, but my upbringing of being a straight-edge, church-going, good grades-making, piano-playing pansy Chinese kid afforded me literally no time to get into trouble, really.

I read devoured Ta-Nehisi Coates's The Beautiful Struggle over our recent long vacation, and in between continuously having my mind blown by the quality of his writing*, I read with interest but otherwise complete detachment about the reality of having to put up your dukes at any given moment.

--

This morning I got on the crowded downtown D train at Columbus Circle as the last to squeeze onto the train-car; magazine in hand, I settled in, standing against the subway door and wedged between the people in front of me and the seats next to me. As the car began to move, the man next to me began muttering, and I soon made out the words, "you punk, you n-word, Chinese something something n-word". I froze. I hadn't touched the guy, spoken to him, nothing. I quickly looked around me and with a combination of uncertainty over looming conflict and the unhappy realization that everyone around me was wearing headphones, probably heard nothing that was said, and were likely unaware of the situation. But maybe he wasn't talking to me? I hadn't turned to him yet.

"I'm talking to you, f****t," He said.

Well, shit. I took a breath and glanced at the man. He was light-skinned but Black, wearing headphones, and making eye contact not with me but somewhere in front of me. I had my wits about me long enough to think, "Turn head, shut mouth, look at magazine," and so I did that, and the guy got off at the next stop.

I told this story to a friend who responded that her policy is generally to ignore all craziness on the public transit unless someone actually touches you; this is actually my personal policy, too (and it should be yours, should you ever come visit our fair City). But the guy was less than arms-length away, and we were trapped next to each other between doors and seats and people on a moving car. I still remember my train of thought, that I realized there was a non-zero chance something would happen, and yet somehow I directed myself to standby mode; this was fight-or-flight in real-time application. And incredibly, despite my utter inexperience and likely impotence I steeled myself for an altercation and maybe would have even engaged him were I actually the type to throw down at groggy-o'clock. I can laugh about it twelve-plus hours later, because it's not who I am; all the boastful ubermachismo rap on my iPod would have done me no good. The "heat of the moment" renders unstable the best-laid of mental self-assurances; I was shaken but reminded that I was human.

Also, that guy was probably nuts.

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(*Seriously, this is the most amazing, gorgeously written book I have ever encountered. So much so that I actually stopped reading a third of the way through, grabbed a pen, and then started over so I could underline the parts that made my head explode. This is something I have never in my life done or felt compelled to do on my own. So I say again, read this book).