I was recently banned from Daily Kos for posting a comment that contained a poorly and irresponsibly described traumatic story from my youth, when I was 13 years old, living in Queens, New York City. Up until recently, I refrained from telling people that I was the victim of a targeted ambush “Racist Hate Crime,” although I clearly was. I don’t like to describe myself as a “victim” … I don’t like to think of myself as “victim” I knew it was, when it happened, I just never wanted to become bitter, afraid, or filled with rage. The incident scarred me, in no small way, even though I came out of it, relatively physically unscathed, save for a minor bruise to my right cheek, but my psyche, however, was dealt a severe blow. I will attempt to explain, herein, a more responsible, respectful and clear version of the incident, and the role I personally played. RadioGirl posted a diary, discussing Racism, and within that diary, my comment was one of the prominent items she discussed.
She described my story as “chilling.” She was right.
This was I was 13/14 years old, when I was jumped by 5 black kids. Yes, it was an admittedly harsh story. My tone in telling it, was, fr om my perspective, “matter of fact”, or “raw” or “detached” … and this apparently unnerved certain members of that community.
I posted my comment on:
* Thu Jan 27, 2011 at 09:32:25 AM PST
Two days (48 hours) later, a slew of comments were posted in response, commencing on
Sat Jan 29, 2011 at 09:54:20 AM PST, 48 hours after my comment was posted. I did not actually see those responses until a week later, on Fri Feb 4, which was several days after I had been banned. I had no idea they were even there, which is why I never responded.
Mostly, because of my real life demands, not the least of which was the fact that Friday Jan 28 I was up all night with my 83 year old dad, who suffers from early stages of dementia, who had another “new” ailment, ending in the morning with me having to take him to the ER, yet again.
Meteor Blades was petitioned to have me banned. And, at first, I wrote nothing to defend myself. Why? I was too busy, and also, in confession, I was loathe to reread my own comment, for the pain of the trauma it evoked. If you have ever lived trauma of this nature, as a child, you would understand and grant me just a little compassion, just a little patience, just a little grace … and most especially, just a little “Christian” forgiveness.
My dear dkos community …
I get that my comment was offensive, but if one has been attacked, as I was, must you respond by vilifying me and telling lies? Do not issue libelous statements claiming that I confessed to a racial murder. Do not. Such libelous statements could result in a lawsuit. Consider yourselves forewarned. This is a serious matter and it has caused me no small amount of anguish in my life, and in response, I never hurt anyone.
Never.
Please bear this in mind, when you write of me.
I responded by entering black communities to heal the anger.
As a teenager, when I was 18, I produced an event with Landmark Education, called “The Communication Workshop” with Councilman Farrell, community leaders and gang members in
Watts, Los Angeles.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R…
I had spent three years working heavily with Landmark Education (known as EST at the time) and been producing these seminars to the general public, as well as, to companies like TRW and JPL.
As an adult, I went to Harlem and taught Aikido, for free.
I could list a litany of small incidents, throughout my life, from my earliest of days, to recent ones, wherein I have stood up to defend ethnic minorities, against whites. I do this, as a white man … as a white man who despises racism. Know this and these about me, before you call me a “racist.”
Yes, I was intolerant and unsympathetic to some of the claims of racism here on dkos, because I have fought real racism, on the street, in the subway, in the middle of the night, putting my own life at risk, more times than I can remember … in the trenches. I do not compare myself to any here, this aint about comparisons, this is about who I am and why I have spoken the way that I have.
Yet, in all fairness, yes, some of the questions in the comments that ensued were entirely valid, but sadly, I never got the chance to respond, and I dearly wish I had been online with my laptop when those comments ensued. I am posting this here, now, to set the record straight, and answer some of the valid questions. I have neither the will nor the time, to engage in debate of racism that has infected kos, a debate that I believe has, more often than not, been used to divert attention away from entirely valid (though admittedly harsh criticisms of Obama’s legislation, criticisms that MUST be respectfully refuted for Obama to win in 2012, which I fully intend to help make happen).
I have no wish to return to kos, and I have not petitioned Meteor Blades at all. I merely wish clear my name.
Several people from dkos emailed me, some of whom are friends, some not, asking questions and making statements.
The following below are partially taken from my responses to those emails.
Here is the actually comment:
http://www.dailykos.com/commen…
Respect is granted by both sides,
Recommended by: Mehitabel9, Uberbah
ever since my “run in” with deoliver and Black Kos, I have frequented both her diaries and her pieces in the Black Kos diaries, often tipping the tip jar, as well as rec’ing the diaries, commenting with respectfulness care support appreciation and praise, and if you note, deoliver has tipped my comments. Check my history these past weeks. Check. Then come back to me and talk to me about mutual listening to my grievance for being wrongfully misunderstood disrespected and most especially … just not listened to …. not really listened to, not with an open ear, not with a fair ear. I have gone out of my way, repeatedly, for weeks now, to read her words, quote her words back to her, to show her I am listening and respectfully pondering her lessons, but I too have life lessons. Now, maybe you don’t care, maybe she doesn’t care, but if you don’t, and if she she doesn’t, then this aint a conversation. This is you and she … PREACHING.
That ain’t a two-way street, and discourse is ALWAYS a two-way street. So, if your or deoliver’s ego is too big to admit that she, too, might have somethin’ to learn here, then it is your and her EGO that is the problem. And, my Aikido teacher always said that EGO is the source of all conflict.
Look, you may not be interested in my life story, but if you wanna talk about racial divide, then I have somethin’ to say on the matter, from my life path, and if that doesn’t interest you, then you can stop reading here.
But this is my story:
I spent many years of my time learning rare ancient teachings, warrior lore, and in turn, I gave those lessons freely, to all, including especially AA, that is my history. That is who you are speaking to here. I have lived the forefront of the attempt in NYC to bridge the racial divide, and I reached out, over the racial differences, and in spite of having been jumped by five AA’s, for being “white.” I never held a grudge. No, I was not “beat up” … Yes, I was walking too close to their neighborhood, Lefrak City, Queens, under the LIE bridge, but they also were walking too close to mine, and they paid the price. One of them, probably didn’t make it. I never found out. There were five of them, and two of us, and one of us, had ran to get a bat, at the gas station, and then returned. Do you know what the sound of a bat hitting a kid’s skull is? I do.
Shall I tell you the racial slur that my Italian friend raged when he swung?
“You fuckin’ n….!”
Do the math. Figure out how that day went down. One white jew boy, cornered, another Italian, arriving, surprising them, with a bat, filled with rage? Why such rage? Cause his father used to beat him with close fisted knuckles, and fuckin’ belt buckles. Yeah, nasty shit. He was an angry kid, but he was my best friend, too. It was an unfortunate day.
You wanna know how we became friends? He had been “picking on me” here and there when I saw him on the streets, till one day, I ran into him, alone, at night, and he pulled a knife on me, to rob me, and I kicked the knife out of his hand and threw him against a fence, and he started to laugh, and said, “You’re cool! You’re cool! I like you! We’re gonna be friends. We’re gonna be friends.”
No shit. That’s how it went down. I was a tough kid, and I roamed with the toughest kids. I took no shit, ever. Why? Because if you took shit once, ever, then you were a pussy and then everyone picked on you. Another one of our crew, I met through my best friend, was a bit older, he broke legs for the mob. Yeah, that’s the crew I ran with. Both of them? Today? Dead. My best friend? He overdosed on meth. The mob guy? He was shot, I believe. I could tell you stories.
No … I never held a grudge … but my friends did. I did not. They walked a foolish path. I left that hood. Many died. Fuckin’ foolish. On all fuckin’ sides.
So, now, today, I have zero patience or tolerance for Black racial hatred towards whites. I have zero patience for racism on either side. Especially not when it is directed wrongly and towards the innocent … especially towards those who worked to end such abuse against blacks, now that is a sin, because we are your allies, and by hurting us, you are doing the bidding of the real enemy, by perpetuating the injustice.
I went of my way to forgive and give, to give that which is most sacred to me, freely and fully and willingly.
When I was in an all black dojo, in the projects, on the other side of town, all black except for 2 Puerto Rican(PR) twins, all who hated me, and tried to beat the shit out of me, but I held my own. The black sensei had me spar(fight) WITH NO PROTECTION, the toughest meanest kid in the class, day one, to get me to leave. He had me fight one of the two PR twins. And what did I do? I clocked him with a crescent kick to his face, to his jaw, almost broke his jaw, blood everywhere. Yeah, I earned the Sensei’s respect.
Well, the next day in Junior High school, which was on “my side of the hood” … that PR kid, whom I clocked, came up to me, after class, on the street, and called me out for a “real fight” … thing is, this was now my hood, and I had my italian and irish friends with me … one of whom, had a father, who was, shall we say, one of the Corona Boss’ … real deal here. These guys hated, and I mean, hated PR’s and Blacks, … and this PR kid called me out, but then he realized, as my crew gathered around him, who the fuck he was dealing with. My friends had bottles, and other assorted items … the PR kid would have been toast, I assure you. And so, what did I do?
I told my friends to leave him alone. And I told the kid that we trained together, and so we should be brothers.
And I walked away.
I walked away.
I could have had that kid put in a hospital. Ya know? With a single look in my eyes, they would’a japped him. Ya know? Ya know what I’m sayin? These were not nice people. Don’t get me wrong, they were nice to me, but I was like family.
So, I told my boys to leave him alone, and I walked away,
He never fucked with me again, especially, not in the dojo, when I was in his turf.
I could tell you stories, but only if you are listening.
I respect deoliver’s life and ilfe journey and life lessons, and I do not compare them, but we both have seen the dark side of this hatred, and we both have something to saw on the matter, and she is not above reproach, nor am I.
Again, either this is a two-way discussion, or it ain’t a discussion at all. And I don’t go to church, never have, so I got zero patience for preachers. Save it for the sheep.
We all have something to learn here, from both sides of the camp.
The comments that ensued asked certain valid questions. And, I was only able to bring myself to re-read my comment last night, which is when I discovered them. Some of the questions center around how much of my story is my own “imagining” … and as any therapist will tell you, I am not sure how I can answer that, fully. This was over 33 years ago. And, with trauma, one blocks such harsh aspects out.
I have never spoken of that incident before with those words “one of them probably didn’t make it” … and I realize that I did so, without really thinking. Why? I have pondered this question this past week, over and over. When I write poetry, which I have done for 28 years, scribing over ten thousand poems, I have trained myself to write “stream of consciousness,” … drawing from deep subconscious places within my psyche, to reach into the deepest regions of my soul. I believe the strength of my poetry comes from this “trained voice.”
But, so, why did I write that?
I remember …
It was ten years after that attack, when there was an incident in NYC in the news, “the karate killer,” they called it … wherein a kid kicked another kid in the head, outside of a bar on the upper west side. The kid who got kicked in the head, died one or two days later. That story haunted me. Prior to that, I didn’t think the kid who got hit with the bat “didn’t make it.” But after that news story, I got a chill down my spine a sick feeling in the pit of my stomach. I have felt that same sick feeling in the pit of my stomach, ever since writing those words, 8 days ago.
I never knew what happened to that kid who got hit with the bat. I tried to convince myself that he was okay, and I don’t remember thinking anything bad about it, until after that news story of the but there were dreams, where he wasn’t … dreams I tried to forget … dreams I only remembered these past few days. Yes, a part of me felt bad when I saw the kid bleeding, but that entire incident, is a surreal memory in my mind. I have dealt with trauma victims, many times, in my life, and I have studied this phenomena: the regions of our mind where such trauma reside often blend with the nightmares of what haunts one of the trauma. I read somewhere, once, that cellular memory in the brain, cannot discern between an imagined sensation and a real sensation, hence, people with amputated limbs imagine sensations from those lost limbs, as if they are real.
I wrote this to a dkos friend in an email:
you know, i shouldn’t have said “one of them probably didn’t make it” … cause that was just my re-occurring nightmare of that day, he was standing when i last saw, holding his head, but bleeding, but my nightmare of that day haunts me … i didn’t hear any news of anyone dying or anything, but in my nightmare, he dies … in my nightmare, i hear that sound … it jars me … i never told anyone about that nightmare, i blocked it out of my mind, i only remembered it these past few days,
i speak of it with detachment to cover up my fear and pain, as a warrior is trained to do … detachment … but whatever injury was done to the kid was not done by me, it was done by my friend, in defense of me … but anyway, he is someone who ended up in and out of jail and eventually died 15 years ago of an overdose …. a lot of people from that hood ended up dead …
my parents saw this evolving, so when my dad moved to Los Angeles, i left NY and came to live with him, … this was 6 months after that incident …
i know i wrote about it in a “bravado” tone, as someone emailed to me, but it wasn’t bravado, so much as it was “detachment” … i keep thinking of a John Keats quote:
“Though a quarrel in the streets is a thing to be hated, the energies displayed in it are fine, this is the very thing in which consists poetry.“
~ John Keats, in a letter to his brother and sister ~
When I was 12 months old, my mother tells me, she was standing about 6 feet from me, as I was climbing up a sliding pond, and I slipped and fell, and landed on my head, with a thump. This naturally struck fear into my mother, yet I did not cry at all. My mother rushed me to the hospital, and nothing was wrong. I was entirely okay, as far as they could tell. And subsequent to day, no ill affect was ever seen.
When my father was seven, his mother dropped (on purpose) my father’s infant brother, who had been crying, and she said, in yiddish: “Enough of you!” The baby cried and cried. My father’s father returned home later that evening, and the baby was still crying, but an unnatural crying. My father’s father eventually took the baby to the hospital. The baby cried all night. The infant baby died in the morning. They did an autopsy. There was nothing physically wrong with the baby. The baby died due to lack of love.
These stories haunt my life.
The I shared scarred me, in no uncertain terms. And, I have had nightmares from it, but these are things that I have avoided thinking about, most of my life. My nightmare evolved, over the years. The initial incident itself, did not initially spark the nightmare, as far as I can recall. But, rather, 6 years later, when there was that incident wherein someone in NYC was kicked in the head, outside the bar. And, 1/2 days later, he died. That unnerved me. I never knew and we didn’t have the internet then, so I really couldn’t check, not without extensive searches at libraries, to put my mind at rest.
The nightmare: One of the 5 kids who jumped me, was hit in the head, with a bat. He was standing when I left. He was bleeding, and holding his head. In my nightmare, he dies.
In my nightmare, he dies.
I wrote the comment, as I write often, as I write my poetry, “stream of consciousness.” I didn’t even think about it, but when I wrote it, I added the comment, “one of them probably didn’t make it.” A part of that, is, or was, maybe, bravado. But bear in mind, I was jumped. And though I may not speak as your typical victim, with a victim’s voice, but the truth is, if anyone was the victim, it was I.
I was slammed against a 2 foot high concrete wall, with a ledge by my neck, and bars right by my own skull.
One slam of their fist would have driven my head into those metal bars and my neck into the sharp concrete ledge.
My life was threatened, in no uncertain terms.
I was ambushed, in no uncertain terms.
And, the ambush was located where ONLY white kids would be walking, returning from the Queens Mall, skirting Lefrak City, the black hood, returning to Rego Park, the white hood.
Yes, it was a targeted racial attack.
And yes, my best friend responded with brutal decisiveness, to save my life.
Yes, there is a fierceness that was forged within me from that incident.
And, you know, fatefully, the very reason I had gone to the Mall was to purchase leather straps for my gymnastic training, but since one of those kids ripped one of the straps from my hand, and given the violent nature of the attack, I took it as a sign to return to my Martial Art training, in “the projects” with the black and Hispanic kids, and to redouble my training. I took it a sign, a message, that gymnastics was not my path.
If the people here on dkos who call me “racist” knew what I have done for the AA people in my life, if they knew the life I have lived, if they knew the things I have done in spite of almost being killed, if not for my friend’s actions that day, then they would never speak such words about me.
No one who knows me in my real life would ever support such a statement about me, labeling me as “racist” … most especially, the dear and close AA friends I have, who call me brother, who embrace me as brother.
You know not with whom you speak, truly you do not.
I received a bunch of emails from GN, a banned dkos member, who claimed in his email, that I didn’t know if those kids attacked due to racism, and I responded that I didn’t know.
I didn’t want to know. I didn’t want to think about it that way. But the truth is, it was, I just never wanted to view it as such, because I didn’t want to hold a grudge, but these last few days, as I recall more of the day, it clearly was. Sad to say.
It was an ambush. It was racist. The words said, things I tried not to think about, like the location. It was. It was. But I never wanted to look at it like that. I never wanted to say that I was the “victim” of a “racist” attack, because I don’t want to promote black hatred that such a story would promote:
“Give me your money you fuckin’ white boy! ”
“Fuckin’ jew boy! “
Now you know where the term “wilding” came from in my psyche. I lived it. I lived it, but never wanted to admit it. I don’t consider myself of the “victim” spirit, and as such, the way I have always “held it” in my psyche was that, when they attacked, one of them got hurt, not I, so I was not the “victim” … since I was only grazed on my right cheekbone.
You see …
This “mind-set” is important to me.
I think of myself as a warrior, so I don’t ever let myself think of myself as the “victim” … but in the conext of that incident, yes, I was the “victim,” I just didn’t respond as a typical victim. My friend was not of the “victim” mindset, nor was I. He returned with a bat, swinging, and I came up swinging. Yeah, I really was just scrambling to get away from the five kids, who were also, at that moment, trying to get out of the way of my friend swinging the bat. After that first swing, my friend was swinging wildly. I would say that he was really just trying to keep them at bay. And they were at that point, I believe, moving to leave.
It was no longer “five guys stomping on a cornered vulnerable white boy against a concrete wall.”
I was standing and it was clear that I knew how to fight.
They wanted no part of me at that point. They took off, quick.
So, truth is, when I stood up, I used that melee-like confusion to skirt around the five kids and get back to near my friend, and we both then started to run. And the five kids were, I believe, running back to their hood. One of them was obviously bleeding from the head, and that haunted me. A part of me, was viciously swinging when I got to my feet, but another part of me, saw that blood and it made me feel ill.
But then, before you judge my previous comment of that incident, and the callous spirit that you might have found offensive …. bear this in mind: sitting on that ground, with five kids towering over you, I never felt so vulnerable in my life, either before, or since, … my back was to that wall and those bars, so when I got to my feet, I was “ready for battle” … with a fierce rage … but it was a surreal experience.
In truth, when I was on the ground, I flashed back to an incident when I was 7, and a “game” my friends and I used to play, a practical joke we would play on grown ups. I was the smallest of the group, and so, the rest of them would gang up on me, in a “mock” attack, and throw me into some bushes, whilst some old grownups were passing, and then we would all start laughing. I flashed on that “mock” attack, and so when those five black kids were towering over me, it was, for a moment, surreal, but then I saw the blow coming towards my face, almost slow motion, and my friend swinging with a bat, and his words, and that is when I kicked into motion, and turned to avoiding a blow that otherwise would have driven my head into a metal bar and my neck into a sharp concrete ledge.
The harsh reality.
Arthur,
It’s AAAAAA here. What happened on kos?
AAAAAA,
I wrote a comment which described an incident from my life wherein I was jumped, i was ambushed, by five black kids, by five black kids who were targeting white kids, under a bridge, this was a known location where we, whites, needed to walk, to return from the Queens Mall. It bordered on Lefrak City, “black turf” and my hood, Rego Park, “white turf” … it was a known location where the blacks would ambush the whites, and if you saw pictures of it, you would know why, it was dark and you were effectively cornered. It was me and my best friend at the time, an italian kid. A tough kid, who had a lot of anger from having been beaten by his dad … beaten, with close-fisted knuckles and belt buckles …. from the old country style, nasty …. my point being, he was an angry kid with rage brewing … but he was a tough kid, but he was my friend, and i only hung with tough kids, because if shit went down, i wanted to know that my friend would “have my back” …. yeah, it was that kind’of an era, and i don’t mean just from the blacks … there was danger all over the fuckin’ place …. you never knew ….
anyway,
so, they jumped us,
but my friend bolted and ran,
but they had grabbed me by my collar, and pulled me to the ground, against the 3 foot brick wall divided the sidewalk from the road. I was surrounded by 5 black kids. They asked me for my money, and I told them I had none, and then they proceeded to lay in to beating me, but at that precise moment, my Italian friend returned, and surprised them … you see, he had run across the street to a gas station, and told them his buddy was jumped by a bunch of black kids, … and they had seen enough times, that they knew the deal, so without pause, they just handed him a bat, ….
so in the precise moment, when the blows began to reign upon me, with racial slurs of “Jew boy” and “white boy” and such, my Italian friend arrived, with a bat, and issued his own racial slur, of
“You Fuckin’ N…..”
and he swung, and i heard, but did not see, it connect, with a skull,
yes, horrific, i am sorry, dearly sorry, but that is what i lived,
anyway, a slight melee ensued,
with my friend swinging and me scrambling to my feet, …
once standing, i moved towards my friend, but not too close, cause he was swinging wildly,
and then we both started to run …
i saw the kid who had been hit hold his head, but he was still standing, last i saw, but i saw blood, too,
that’s the last I saw,
… cause we just ran and ran …
hell, you would’ve too,
but i never hit anyone that day,
i just wanted to get the hell out of there,
so, no, i actually never hit anyone that day,
yeah, sure, i would have, cause i knew how to fight,
but unlike my friend, my parents treated me with love,
i had no such anger or rage,but i could fight, but i wasn’t stupid,
i would rather run, if the choice was there,
so, anyway, it happened too fast for me to really fight, and i was on the ground surrounded, for most of the time,
i received only one slight blow that connected to my face, but since i had Martial Art training and Boxing training, i knew to move with the blow, so it only grazed my right cheek, i guess the kid was left handed,
Here is an aerial map of the location (note LEFRAK CITY and REGO PARK):
Here is a street view the location (note “X1”, that is where the 5 kids were hiding, to ambush us):
look to your left, under the bridge,
the road in the center is the fast
lane for Queens BLVD,the bridge is the Long Island Expressway (LIE),
the sidewalk borders on the Queens BLVD “slow lane”
but has a 3 foot brick wall separating the sidewark
from the street,
as you can see from the picture,
it is dark,
Here is another street view the location, from another direction:
* Note “X1”, that is where the 5 kids were hiding, to ambush us.
* Note “X2”, that is where the 5 kids pulled me to the ground, slamming me against against 2 foot high concrete wall, with metal bars.and on foot, it is the only way to get from
the Queens Mall to my neighborhood, Rego Park,and 30 years ago, Lefrak City, was all black,
I lived 1 mile from Lefrak city, and I never once
stepped foot in there, because I was white,~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
and so, what happened on kos?
apparently, my story, the bits of it i told,
were interpreted at a “threat”
or a “hate crime”i dont know, i received a “warning” when i logged
on a few nights ago, which informed me that some
people interpreted my story as a “threat”i had made reference to this incident a few times,
over the last few months, but then someone had
said … “Oh, so you’re another white boy who has
been beaten up by black kids” … and I responded
and said, “ahhh, no, i was not beaten up,”
but yeah, i was “jumped,”so i told more of the story,
i know it is harsh story,
but it is what i lived, during a harsh time,anyway, i do not know fully what was said
on kos, because i became way too busy
these last 2 weeks,work responsibilities,
coupled with, several all night ER visits with
my 83 year old dad, this past week,
i really don’t know fully what was said,
or how it was interpreted,yesterday, i received some rather vicious hate
emails from “GN” an old banned user,
i responded apologizing for any mistaken
impressions, explaining that i hurt no one,
but yes, people were hurt,GN repeatedly called me a “white supremest”
i apologized to him 10 times, in 10 emails,
and pleaded with him to reconsider his judgement
of me,yesterday morning, i sent deoliver an apology and explanation as well, i havent seen any response,
my point in telling the story,
(which unfortunately, i never got to tell fully,)
(but then i was loathe to tell it,
but it was inside me,
wanting to be told,
to show that i know a little bit about
racial hatred, as a white man,
having lived a unique side of it,)
but my point was, i wanted to show that even
though i was the victim of a race driven hate crime,
a crime which ended in a horrific response by my friend,
but not an entirely unwarranted response, given the fact
that his friend was being beaten by five guys,
but, still, my point was: i never once reacted in hate,i never became bitter or angry towards blacks,
in fact, i reacted with the exact opposite spirit,
i defended blacks in my hood,and as an adult, for FREE,
i ventured into Harlem to teach kids Aikido,
a peaceful Martial Art, to harmonize conflict,
and calm their spirits, to transcend conflict,and also,
another deeper point was that even my friend’s
rage, was largely the product of child abuse,
not racial abuse, he was just an angry kid,
although there was obviously racial conflict,yes, i could tell you other horrific stories,
it was harsh time,anyway,
even though my friend issued what i feel is the
very worst of racial slurs, to match theirs,
my friend virtually never issued racial slurs in front
of me, either before or since, i say “virtually never”
because the once or twice he did so, was only
when speaking of being attacked,
and yes, there were other incidents,bear in mind, i had another friend, who had been my
best friend since i was 8, who was black,
so,
such racial slurs were not common in my particular hood,
because although my hood was predominantly white,
we were really the middle ground,
we were the “border hood”
where many cultures crossed,
in one direction, Italians,
in another, Puerto Ricans,
in another, Koreans,
in another, Black,
in another, Greeks,
in another, Jews,
with Irish and Russians, etc ….and so I lived the height of “BUSING”,
aka: “FORCED BUSING” …http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/D…
i wanted to write a Diary about this,
and submit it to Black Kos
to be a part of that series,
but was too busy,
i had been reading that series for 6+ weeks
and posting respectful comments,
comments that were almost always
even tip’d by deoliver,this was my effort to heal the schism and conflict,
and my sharing of that horrific incident was an effort
to show that even though i did not have deoliver’s
experience with racism, i too had experiences on
the other side of the spectrum, which needed to
be heard and respected, if we were to achieve
truly mutual respect and mutual understanding,again, in closing, my main point was that
even when one has been the victim of a
race driven hate crime, like i was,
one need not, and one should not, respond
with anger,and similarly, if one experiences conflict with
someone, as i experienced with deoliver
and Black Kos 6-8 weeks ago,
one should stop and go out of one’s way
to listen MORE,to stop and just listen,
and that was what i was doing in my efforts
into Black Kos ever since i experienced my
conflict with them, (when i was supporting
Uberbah),we need to see within the conflict,
to see beyond it,we need to stop the “misplaced anger”
we need to heal the anger,
we need to heal the schism,hmmm, and all that i have written to you here
is what i wanted to put into a diary,so, if you want to do that, i would be grateful,
to clear my name, because i have done no wrong
to the AA community, EVER, in my life,during the Busing, when blacks entered my classroom,
i always sat next to them, and away from the Jews,
the Jews who never really accepted me anyway
because my mom was not Jewish,
even my dad was, and even though my last
name is VERY jewish, and even though my
dad fought for the birth of Israel, a Jewish Homeland,
the Jews in my hood never really accept me,
the blacks did, the Italians did, the Irish did,
the Puerto Ricans did,but not the Jews,
funny that,
anyway,
so when the black kids entered out classroom,
when i was 7, 8, 9, 10, in 1970, 71, 72, 73,
i sat next to them, and called them “friend”,
and made sure NO ONE picked on them, ever,
cause they would have to be answerable to me,and i would have you know, several of them,
are on my friend’s list today, on Facebook,and some of kos would call me “racist.” …. Really?
I have been unfairly judged.
Thank you for listening,
peace,
Arthur,PS, if you want to post this, in my defense,
i would dearly appreciate it,i am no racist,
i never supported racism,
i never hurt anyone in anger, ever,
i never channeled misplaced anger driven
by uncontrollable rage,in Shao-Lin, we are taught to make peace
with the Dragon: “The Beast” within us,
to harmonize it, and awaken the Phoenix,that has been my path in life,
and the ultimate path, in Aikido,
is “to save the life of your enemy”
and “make of him, your friend”and that is and has always been, my path,
i was wrongly judged by the Daily Kos community,
and the 24 hour window that MB did give me to respond,
was spent largely in an Hospital ER room,
with other more pressing issues of my 83 year
old dad’s health,
a new ailment arose this past week,
and then the work responsibilities,
and my own health and asthma,~ namaste ~ ubuntum ~ satnam ~
Arthur
Arthur,
First of all, I too am Jewish … my dad had to leave Nazi Austria and my grandmama and aunt were picked up by the SS…. I was called a “ni&&er lover” from a very early age :-). I think I know where you are coming from.
I read the comment on the diary. I understand what happened and how you detailed it in the diary. My opinion is complicated and I hope you’ll read it.
The way you detailed the story was with enough bravado that it was ripe for misinterpretation, which is what happened. In this email to me you responded with a nuanced story. In your post it was more confrontational, although the point you were trying to make was more listening and give and take. That point got lost in the narrative and the way it was written.
I’m not sure you could do much about it now.
If you want to ‘come back’ and I’m not saying you do, I think you might rewrite the email that you just wrote to me and send it to meteor blades.
I wish this had not happened. Makes me sad.
AAAAAA
AAAAAA,
I do not want to come back.
I really needed to leave for my own reasons, having nothing to do with this.
… but I would like for my name to be cleared.
Yes, I know my comment that day was colored by “bravado,” as you say, and I cannot excuse that, other than to say that, I was telling one side or slant of the story that day, wherein I was conveying that I was not some “victimized” bitter kid. I was a tough kid, in a tough time. Writing that email to you was painful and I only wrote it, because of my relationship with you and the spirit of compassionate listening I feel from your question. Writing my story is painful. Also, I am tired and weary of the falsehood. Rewriting or editing that email is too painful for me today. Maybe tomorrow I will feel less raw. Whenever I write of this, I keep getting flashbacks. Painful flashbacks.
You gotta know that anytime someone sneaks up behind me, or tries to, a part of me, relives that day, in an instant. This has made me a dangerously hypersensitive fighter, who can sense when danger is behind me, which, in NYC, was not a bad thing. In a strange dark way, I cherish that experience, for making me a more formidable warrior. I know this is harsh for some people who do not walk my path to appreciate, and so, I would tell you that this is not about “bravado,” so much as it is about fierceness. And, this fierceness is jarring to many in our “civilized” world, and I do not sugarcoat that spirit. Those kids organized a planned ambush. They had done it before. They never did it again, I am sure. And, the other times, the victims were hurt. I was not. I don’t appreciate the racial hatred of the blacks who have chosen to take out their racial hatred on innocent whites, and I have lived a measure of it. Enough, that I can smell it when it is present, and it is present in Daily Kos. And, on that subject, I am far more of an expert than Deoliver. I have no patience nor respect for such. And, it is that spirit of intolerance that you are seeing, far more than “bravado” … intolerance. Again, I was wrongfully judged, and if Meteor Blades wants my side of the story, he can ask me, rather than banning me, as he did. Yes, he did give me a window of 24 hours to respond, but again, fatefully, half that window of time was spent in a Hospital with my dad.
Arthur,
I received about 10 emails from a former banned member of dkos “GN” who proceeded to call me a white supremest. I apologized repeatedly for any mistaken impressions, and explained that I had personally hurt no one that day. And further, I shared another story from my life, to illustrate that although that incident had marked me, scarred me, causing/teaching me to become alert to attacks from behind, so that I would not be unsuspectingly jumped from behind, yet still, to not be a “loose cannon” who would hurt someone who was innocent:
14+ years ago, i was walking with my girlfriend at the time, it was 1am … we were up on 110th street and Broadway, near Harlem, “Spanish Harlem” … my girlfriend was a slender white blond girl, with a very short skit and i had suit on, …. and a black kid comes up behind us, his intent was merely to yell in my ear, to frighten me, to make me look bad and make his friend laugh, ie: a practical joke …. but because of that incident from my childhood, i sensed him, and spun around with a back-hand strike, used like whip, and with my precision, i could have shattered his jaw, … but in that last minute, i saw the look in his eyes, and realized that he was merely a 16 year old boy playing a practical joke, and so, in that last minute, i checked my strike, i came within a hairs breath of his jaw, … he fell backwards onto the ground and his friend burst out laughing at him …..
you see, i did not harbor anger, and as such, in that split second, i withheld the blow, … cause my inner sense told me he was not intending harm,
and whilst many might be proud of that prowess to know that someone was coming from behind, … the more impressive prowess was to NOT deliver the blow,
again, please try to look beyond the harshness of my stories, to see my spirit, which is as a “peaceful warrior”
please reconsider your judgment of me,
i am not a man who wishes to harm anyone,i wish only teach warrior lore, which is not about hurting, but rather, in reality, at the heart, it is about healing and fostering peace …. i share stories of the harsh incidents, because those harsh incidents are what leave such a mark upon us, that one must look to within them, to find the peaceful center of the storm, to heal the hurts,
“We study war in the name of peace.”
O-Sensei ~ Morihei Ueshiba, Founder of Aikido
The response I got from “GN” was this …
This is the rantings of a racist goofball, like the people on stormfront. Are you serious, your new story contains thematics about protecting Miss Ann from the black thugs who want her. ARE YOU SERIOUS? Are people like you for real? This is textbook white nationalist bullshit. Black people don’t act like this, grow up. Only someone crazed would have a violent response. Stay the hell away from deoliver’s writings, you jerk. Your white supremacist stories are odd and ridiculous. Do not subject good innocent black people to the ridiculous…enough said, goodbye! Get well. Heal. Walk through the botanical gardens, and heal yourself, because you’ve got issues for days.
I sent “GN” this one sentence as my final response …
You have unfairly judged me.
… since I knew not what else to share to share that I had made peace with that inner-demon. Yes. I am trained to deal with danger, and as such, I (admittedly) see potential threat/violence, where other’s do not … yes, admittedly, that is a deep part of my training … training in formal Martial Art schools, and training in my real life experiences. But, I would ask you to look deeper within that which your civilized psyche considers “harsh” or “appalling” or “chilling” (as some have described it) … to look deeper, to see within that “Martial” fighting prowess, that there is a peaceful heart that wishes to not hurt anyone. The movies and TV of our day and age are riddled with such callous depictions, yet I lived such. I lived that which others only imagine or see in our media replete world. Some of you, I know, have lived such. I have known and trained with those who have lived far worse than I. Returning soldiers from war, war I have never seen. But I have trained with those who have lived war, and if you believe my stories are “chilling,” then you have seen nothing. The piercing and rending of flesh from the neck, on the battlefield in war. Yes, I speak such realities with acute artistry, yes, I am a poet, and my voice is one trained to imbue realness and texture to that which others repel … and yes, this is shocking to some, I know, but as a poet, John Keats words come to me …
…the energies displayed in it are fine.
Yes, this and these are chilling, yet war is chilling, and brutal racial attacks are chilling, but even worse, that which has been inflicted upon the black man, over generations, is so very harsh that I shudder to even imagine what what that telling would invoke. And, in the annals of time, such primitive atrocities are riddled. The Moors conquered Sicily, and they too, were harsh, so the Black man has not been innocent, but that hardly excuses the white man’s actions of today. I think of the small pox riddled blankets given to the Native American tribes. Or the White Australian’s mass killing of the black aborigines, or Holocaust. Our humanity has come from a dark inhumane past, where life was not valued at all. And, the remnants of this animalistic inhumane spirit within our species, from countless ages, haunts us, I believe, far more than any wish to admit. And, in the Martial Art schools, where self-defense against abuse is taught, the reality of this, becomes poignantly evident. Admittedly, I do not shy away from such tales, for I believe that honesty about the horrors of violence is the only cure for our wars. Most of the movies of today do not teach true Martial Art principles, which are really designed to foster peace. Yes, we prepare for war, “ever prepared,” but we pray for peace.
I remember seeing a sign from the 60’s peace movement:
~ Wage Peace ~
The most deadly Martial Artists I have known were the most peaceful and kind in their demeanor. Admittedly, in the coldness of this written blogging word, where it is facile to scribe without pause, one posts comments, and uses words, that are heard without the softness of a smile of the timbre of the voice. And, being from a cultural upbringing wherein curse words, like “fuck” and “scum bag” and other such terms were common place. And before anyone criticizes me for my diction:
For better or for worse, my poetic writings are sometimes replete with this, and this “rawness” I embraced as a poet, many years ago, and since such curse words were accepted on dkos, I let such verse color my comments, freely. I realize that this is offensive to some, and for this I am sorry, but in a world were contrived offense, and false posterings, and disingenuous pleasantries are commonplace, I prefer to “keep it real” and convey my more heartfelt sentiments with the uncensored words from my life and times. And further, this same raw “street” quality is what I found so refreshing on dkos to begin with, and so, following suit, I commented with my own honest words. We are all grown ups here, and if Rahm Emmanuel could speak thusly, and be Obama’s Chief of Staff, in the esteemed White House, why could I not, on Daily Kos?
In closing, some people here have called me a bully, but I would ask you, “Where did the bullying begin? And who begin the bullying?” I will admit to you that in my life, I have responded to those whom I saw as bullies, by confronting them … by confronting them with hard words. And, as such, whatever you have seen of me here, was but a shadow of that same practice.