Scared.

I ran as fast as I could until nothing inside of my lungs was left.

It was strange to me losing my way on roads that I grew up on because these roads were my roads that I represented in all kinds of street codes.

Like when he said, “Where you from?”

And I said, “Me? I’m from South”

And then he said, “I’m from East”

Still, this lump in my throat swelled knowing that this conversation was well and truly going West.

I looked up at him as he towered over me and maybe it’s me, but behind his head I spotted the North star, so yeah you guessed it, I was far away from my borough my zone, as the two of us debated in innuendos sizing each other up as to who held the crown, and to whom is worthy of sitting on the throne? Yet inside all I was thinking was whether he was ‘bro’ or ‘foe?’

This was my starting point for my so-called safe journey home.

Alone.

Adjusting my tone, I ‘kept it moving’ and for those of you that don’t know, this term is used to insinuate the motion that you know as ‘walking’.

Looking back head over shoulders I was ‘shook’ you know… ‘scared’, but boys do what men do… We stick to the rules that we learnt in school when ‘tokenism’ was blatant, and you were the only one of one in your classroom.

So yeah, I hid my ‘screw face’ behind my mask and stayed ‘ten toes down’ focusing on what’s was in front of me and pretending like none of what I felt was inside ‘fucking with me’, sorry, I meant to say, ‘bothering me’.

The lamppost.

I was alone outside slumped against a lamppost as it flickered rippling my shadow like water does when it’s disturbed.

The curb.

Sitting down I pressed my hands to my face and felt the cold air wrap around my fingers.

Breath.

I’m talking to myself in muffled mumbles.

At this point my mouth is dry and if I’m really honest with you… The rage I was feeling I swear down I wanted to ‘bawl!’ So yeah, this is what I remember from that night. This is re- cap pressure in real time.

Confused.

Staring at my shadow I no longer recognised it. I saw a monster disfigured and I know this sounds mad, but ‘bruddah’ trust me I was triggered.

It gets worse.

Picture a stranger walking by who catches my eye to his eye who then sees himself in me… so he hesitates, an abrupt pause and then he turns to walk away in the opposite direction. I know this term, it’s called ‘passive abrasive rejection’, So by now I hope you’re feeling my angst rolled up in my worded tension.

Ugly.

An unwelcome reminder to self that being Black offshored in open terrain with no reason to explain places unnecessary strain on a man’s brain, so I adjusted my physical frame to accommodate to those who debate whether I’m friendly or whether I am a man filled with hate?

Too late.

Your stereotype is a war on my Blackness.

Home.

Keys out of pocket forced into lock push open door.

I sobbed that night because what happened to me was judgement in plain sight, for I was just someone who had a lot on my mind after spending my day trying to make myself invisible to those that made feeling V.I.S.I.B.L.E. harder than it should be.

It shouldn’t be this hard to be visible.

Now who’s the real criminal?

Image: Christina Deravedisian