Walking the Talk

I was lazy today and waited for the B75 to take me downtown. I could have walked it in the amount of time I waited along with another woman who looked like life had smacked her around a bit, poor health, bad teeth, too much extra weight, and unflattering clothes. We both grumbled over the as usual tardiness of the B75 driver of the day when about five to seven kids from the local school came stumbling upon us. They were loud and obnoxious.

These kids must have been in the fifth grade, higher or lower, I have no ability to gauge that. They were all black except for one white kid. I'd been reading, "Mommy, What Does 'Nigger' Mean?" by Gloria Naylor with my students and race was a billboard in my mind. I almost felt sainthood worthy after a few sessions of intense dialogue in class.

I stood watching this one black kid bully the smaller white kid who wore glasses. After a few minutes of razzing I heard the white kid say to him, "Okay, let's fight."

I thought it was so odd that I was going to watch a fight instead of grabbing all these kids by the collar and moving them on their way. But we were waiting for the bus and nothing about these students seemed threatening or menacing. They were just a blog of silly students. As they circled each other, I noticed the black kid wasn't advancing and so I said to the white boy, 'take off your glasses.' And he did.

I wanted to tell him to punch the bully square in the nose. I tried to remember what my grandfather's friend had told my father when he was about the same age and getting bloodied by white gangs in Houston. "Ask for the leader" my Dad had been told. "Beat up the leader and the others will leave you alone."

"You're a chicken," said the white kid when the other kid would not throw a blow. The bus came.

"Finally," said the weary woman.

When I got off at my stop, the students were clogged up at the exit door. Going past them, I leaned into the bully and caused him to stumble and reach for the railing.

I stepped quickly off the stairs, expecting to hear him yell or come after me. But I heard nothing. Nothing but the panicked beating of my own heart and the sound of the bus pulling away.