Respect

Today I got into an argument with someone on the street which could possibly turn into a drive-by shooting. 

The tent city was broken up and dispersed last week, but some of the homeless and the kids who were doing the shooting are still hanging out on the lots next to the shelter. 

I told a bunch of them they had to move on the other day. 

My neighbor told me the next evening that they were back. I messaged the property owner and told my neighbor to call the cops. 

Today at lunch I rode home from work and saw the same faces riding bikes outside the bar on the corner. I decided to go see for myself. 

I rode down, and the group appeared to be leaving in separate directions. One of them shouted something about a white guy, so I turned around in case one had something to say to me. 

Coming the other way was a guy on a bicycle, looking over his shoulder and heading at me.

"Watch where you're going," I said. 

"Watch where YOU'RE going," he replied, and we were off and running. 

Let me preface what I said next: about a month ago, I was riding to work one morning when I saw a man walking from my left about to enter the intersection I was passing through. I waved in acknowledgement as I tend to do, to try to present a pleasant and neutral demeanor to the people whose paths I cross in the neighborhood. 

"Fuck you, bitch ass white boy,” he said. 

Our conversation was brief, and ended when from a safe distance I suggested I should call the cops. 

Afterwards, though, I kept thinking of successively more bad-ass things I could have or should have said. In actuality they were pretty cringe-worthy. I should remember never to apply yesterday's rejoinder to today's argument. 

So when the gentleman on the bike said what he did, I let fly: "Let me get you the help you need," I said, and pulled out my phone. 

He spun around and brought his bike up against mine, and so began an increasingly loud discussion about whether or not the cops should be called. 

To make a long story short, the conversation ended in me calling the cops and him riding away, punctuated by threats on both sides. 

Here's the thing that I think about, though: at one point early on, he said "I'm trying to talk to you."

What struck me is that we were speaking two languages. Not in the literal sense, but in the sense that what he was saying was driven by the reality that he takes part in, which is very different than mine. 

In my reality, the cops are there to protect my interests: my house, my family. In his, the cops are not there to protect his interests. 

Not that I think the guy was innocent. He was pretty clearly riding at me hoping to provoke a reaction. Plus what he was saying as he was "trying to talk to me" was that if I tried to call the cops he'd smash my phone.

For this guy, in the world he lives in, disrespect is a serious matter and must be addressed immediately. It's what they call "Honor Culture" in other parts of the world, where disrespect can lead to back-and-forth killings. The same thing is happening here, but it's less visible. It's really clearly indicative of the divide between the two halves of Lafayette, and really, America: it's mostly, but not exclusively, along racial lines. In the white half of town, very few shootings. In the black half, almost daily. 

That evening I talked to the owner of the club at the end of the street. He advised me against tangling with anyone on the street. 

"These guys have nothing to lose," he said.