He’s an African man, sturdy and strong, fast like a bullet I’ve always admired. Our relationship consists of a nod, a smile, a…you’re done already Henry? I’m so jealous, like ships passing in the night.
But this morning, I was surprised to find him almost in tears.
Apparently a woman became frightened when she saw him stretching beneath a street lamp, proceeding to scream. She then took photos of him with her phone as though he had attacked her.
The gentle soul that he is, attempted to reason with her, only making her more hysterical before running out of the Park.
He was so shook up, and who can blame him.
This same scenario happened a few months ago, but the man accused didn’t stand for it, reporting the person who was making a racial accusation without cause. It made all the papers, and the woman was taken to task.
I reassured Henry, that if need be, I’d stand up for him, but he still couldn’t be comforted by anything I could say.
He was hurt, plain and simple, to be unjustly perceived as a threat just because he’s a man of color.
I watched him leave, his head hanging low, like an eagle with clipped wings.
I ask you…