How many times in your life did someone physically assault you because of what you look like?
You’re talking to the wrong guy. Many. I grew up in the inner city and was one of the only white kids in my grade school or neighborhood. I’d get chased around by groups of kids and beaten up. Very often --once they found out they could-- I’d have one of my knees dislocated. I spent a lot of time hiding in the bushes. I had bright red hair, am small and was skinny, and looked like howdy doodie-- or so I’m told, so even after we moved from that place, I’ve been singled out for my looks here and there. Until I grew big enough to go all in on fighting back, and shortened my hair to stubble.
A lot of fighting back is intellect. Understanding who was just teasing and could be joked with to defuse, who was just following, and who I had to fight, understanding when and where it was safe to enter a restroom.
I’m an old man now. A few times per year I still relive the fear of being chased and understanding that violence was about to happen when I hear or see other people being chased in movies. I cant look at that stuff. Being surrounded and overpowered is pretty visceral, and is having your leg yanked and twisted to dislocate it–especially when they cant remember which knee it was. I know exactly what reliving PTSD is. The severity comes and goes, but its more severe over time than makes any logical sense, and I sit there sort of stunned while I relive it. Which actually becomes …tedious in its lack of healing. Frankly, at a certain period in my life, I became a bully myself. The fight changes you I think.
Do my creds check out enough?
My point was, conflict requires intellect, and you I dont see that you are applying that intellect.
You’re talking to the wrong guy. Many. I grew up in the inner city and was one of the only white kids in my grade school or neighborhood. I’d get chased around by groups of kids and beaten up. Very often --once they found out they could-- I’d have one of my knees dislocated. I spent a lot of time hiding in the bushes. I had bright red hair, am small and was skinny, and looked like howdy doodie-- or so I’m told, so even after we moved from that place, I’ve been singled out for my looks here and there. Until I grew big enough to go all in on fighting back, and shortened my hair to stubble.
A lot of fighting back is intellect. Understanding who was just teasing and could be joked with to defuse, who was just following, and who I had to fight, understanding when and where it was safe to enter a restroom.
I’m an old man now. A few times per year I still relive the fear of being chased and understanding that violence was about to happen when I hear or see other people being chased in movies. I cant look at that stuff. Being surrounded and overpowered is pretty visceral, and is having your leg yanked and twisted to dislocate it–especially when they cant remember which knee it was. I know exactly what reliving PTSD is. The severity comes and goes, but its more severe over time than makes any logical sense, and I sit there sort of stunned while I relive it. Which actually becomes …tedious in its lack of healing. Frankly, at a certain period in my life, I became a bully myself. The fight changes you I think.
Do my creds check out enough?
My point was, conflict requires intellect, and you I dont see that you are applying that intellect.