Whammy

I was mugged today.

OK. I was gonna say technically I wasn't mugged because he didn't succeed in robbery. But then I looked up "mug" and the assault itself qualifies.

I was on a quiet street in plain daylight just going from the subway station to my destination only a block away. Had done it on more than one occasion. Even though there are plenty of neighborhoods in the city that should not be considered safe, I had never had abject fear walking down the street alone in broad daylight. Been going out alone since I was in my teens.

I used to say "famously", "If I have to wait for someone to do something with before I do it, I'll never do anything." I was always proud to be self-reliant and of the fact that I enjoyed my own company. (Well, as an introvert, that trait should not count as impressive I guess.)

You've heard these mugging stories so many times, you are numb. They come running, from seemingly nowhere. You never saw them coming. They grab your purse. They may do worse, hurt you, on purpose. They target older women, perhaps older Asian women in particular, because a lot of us are petite, deemed to be old and feeble. Each an easy mark.

It's happened to women I know, women I care about. My heart has broken for them. For a full grown man to prey on a defenseless woman likely smaller and lighter than he. Just... how could he?

When you're young and feel strong and (inaccurately) invincible and safe, these incidents happen to someone else. Not you.

Well today I was that older woman perceived to be weak, and I was selected.

The young man came from behind, grabbed hold of the straps on my purse and made a run for it. What he didn't realize was that as someone who has lived in Asia, I am well trained. I am not slinging that thing, brother. I have a firm grip on it. Sometimes, in Asia, I have such a firm grip on my purse ALL the time, I have neck and shoulder pain at the end of the day.

With the momentum of his dashing forward, I fell and landed on my knees. I am not sure exactly what happened in the next few seconds. I know I hit the back of my head. I was on the ground, being dragged. I am not sure for how long. I wasn't reacting as much as acting instinctively. I hung on to my purse for dear life. It wasn't like I had a thought process going on. It was like, It's my purse. I'm holding on to it. Pure logic. I wasn't even feeling defiant or anything.

In a flash it did occur to me I wasn't sure how much longer I could hold on.

And it was probably a quick second (RJ hates that expression). As quickly as the attack had started, it ended. Next thing I knew, there was no more tension on me. I was... still. Still retaining a firm grip on my purse, I semi got up and witnessed the guy run away. The pitter-patter of my perpetrator's escape was a deafening echo in my head.

My next thought was, "What the fuck? What the fuck just happened?"

And honestly it was like a moment later then it sunk in I had been the victim of an attempted robbery. It was so surreal.

The criminal was black. "How did he have to be black?" I lamented in my head. "Why did you have to perpetuate the stereotype?!" I was so disappointed in him for that.

In a lot of pain, I limped the rest of the way to my destination. It was only half a block away now. I could see it. It hurt so much especially at my left hip and knee that I had to stop and take a break. A few sites on my body were throbbing like you see in a Warner Bros cartoon when someone accidentally hits their thumb with a hammer and it inflates and deflates rapidly like a red balloon.

I wanted to tell someone right away, "I've been mugged." I pictured myself telling the first soul I run into, the need to share was so urgent.

I sat down at the restaurant I had picked out earlier, and winced with every movement. I was a bit shaky and still in shock. I felt weepy when I imagined accounting for my experience with RJ when I got home. I had some anger but it quickly dissipated.

I am not sure why I didn't stay angry longer. Pretty sure, though, had the man succeeded in taking my purse, I would be plenty furious. That would have been terrible. It wasn't just money. Take the money. The hassle of accounting for every card and having to replace them, house keys, car keys... I had precious photos on my camera and phone I hadn't even gotten a chance to load on my PC yet. I would have been beyond pissed.

He didn't win! Try as he did.

So I walked away feeling strong (even though it is an illusion), and brave (even though how I handled the situation was not a conscious choice at the time), a survivor. Circumstances could have been far worse. He could have kicked me in the gut, bashed me in the head. So many things.

Later Elsie noticed my limping and asked. We concluded the guy must have been an amateur opportunist, a small timer.

Of course now I am even more paranoid when out and about in scouting my surroundings, looking behind in addition to around. I will say that the next dozen of Americans of African decent I encountered, I felt irrational fear leap to my throat from my stomach. I HATE that the one person who did me wrong has turned me into a racial profiler. It is not right. Because I know this was an isolated incident and we should never lump a group together and generalize based on skin color, ethnicity, heritage, etc.

Today I was that feeble old lady who was targeted. I will grow older, feebler, and likely be targeted again. It is not a happy thought. Maybe it is time to take that self defense class that I have always talked about and put off.