(2+2=5)

The other day, I was at the office when I overheard a gun-toting “guard” tell a horrible joke.

“Hey, how do you do CPR in the inner city?” he said, but he prounounced it like “innrcity”. He stomped harshly on the ground in front of him and then learned over the same place and blew three times.

At first, I didn’t even get the joke, but I could tell by the tone of his voice what he was implying. I went back to my desk and tried to work, but I was so furious I could not. I was practically shaking. I hated cops, I hated the blue code of silence, and in particular, I hated this guard who I knew by name.

A few days later, I was reading an article (in GQ of all places?) about how acab originated and I had the epiphany that my reaction to the guard’s behavior should not have been anger, but pity. He was a victim of the system. A victim. I have no reason to hate him. He’s only a victim. The instant this epiphany dawned on me this a warm glow started melting down the back of my head and spread down my back and across my whole body. I had been holding the anger inside of me, and it had been making my whole body tense. Now I have found a way to continue to say hi to him on Mondays and Thursdays.

Because I understand that he only behaved that way because he is a victim of the system. I must believe this. I do believe this. Pity, not anger. Pity for the victims of systematic prejudice. It’s not a personal failing of his, but of egregious systematic errors. Not anger, but pity.