courage and foolishness

Today I was at a Chicago middle school and these 8th grade girls called out “ching-chang!” as I passed by, drowning in too-loud giggles. Minutes later, the same aged girls (albeit not the same girls) purposely got in my way as I went downstairs. She said “excuse me” a little too early and I swerved a little too late.

I'm not sure if it was the annoyance that I had built up from earlier, but I paused at the beginning of the next staircase, stood steps below, and stared at her. Her friends looked back in a mixture of defiance and fear. It was one of those moments that stretched a lot longer than actual time dimension would allow, culminating in a silent confrontation but not much else. I’m not sure what would have happened if things went further. In something physical she and her friends could have easily taken me, each barely inches shorter (though more than a decade younger) and easily weighed more than I.

I hate conflicts and am not nearly as brave as I’d like to be. But my ethnicity is something I’m fiercely protective about. Whatever misgivings I have about my own connections to a culture slowly fading away from me, no one else will ever have the right to challenge it and get away unscathed. Whatever this confusing “it” turns out to be (and I will toil forever to find and re-find out), the one stable central axis is that it is a part of me more than anything else is a part of me. Someday it won’t be first place anymore—and I do wait with anticipation at my next great priority—but I guard over the current reigning queen with the protectiveness of a lioness over her cubs.

I wish I could have laughed the incident off (as my mother will probably tell me to do…in fact an image of her is already taking place in my mental theater); it would probably also have been the more mature thing to do. After all, there is such a thing as knowing something is important without announcing the fact in such dramatic fashion, especially to irrelevant individuals; but I have no problem going about it the way I do now. It’s a grounding experience (but also a kind of thrill) to have something worth being brave for. To stand up for even though you might suffer damage (not just in physical terms but a myriad of other ways, as I'm sure this won't be the first time where my professional life will become entangled). To re-realize what you have that your pride will let you get away with.

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