A wake-up call

By Dedoceo Habi, New American Media

I was waiting to catch a BART train home when I witnessed something I am compelled to share. It challenged me in ways I still reflect upon as I write this.

A train pulled up and as soon as the doors opened, the quiet station was awakened to the voices of two arguing people. I walked slowly in the direction of the raised voices and could see everyone around the two — a young thug and his young girlfriend. Nobody moved; it was as though everyone there wished they were somewhere else. The train the two had gotten off left the station for its next destination.

The two were screaming at each other. He attempted to walk away but, not wanting to be ignored, she following him step-for-step, shouting a litany of expletives that did nothing to quell the discord. He turned on her and then they were face-to-face exchanging demeaning, belittling and disrespectful words.

No one intervened, no one moved toward him or her. I took a step forward, wanting to see more clearly what my mind was processing to be sure it was not imagined.

I heard him say to her (but in much harsher words) he had bought the very shoes she was wearing. I saw him push her to the raised structure commonly found in the BART stations for seating and then forcefully take the shoes off her feet. He threw the shoes across the station and onto the tracks. At that point she went quiet. He raised his hand. I recall thinking, “Surely he’s not doing this. Surely this isn’t happening.”

She sat there, head bowed and still. He bent down and said something that no one else could hear in her ear. He raised himself up, standing there now two feet taller then her seated and small frame. And then he punched her squarely in the face.

No one moved an inch. I found myself closing the gap between the two. She sat there recovering from her shame and embarrassment, and from being so completely immobilized by this young thug, her bearing slowly awakening to what had just happened.

He began to walk backward away from her. I heard him say to her, “I’m going to shoot you. You wait till I see you again, I’m going to shoot you.”

That’s when I stopped moving. In that moment I had my wake-up call. In that moment I was forced to evaluate what my instincts had advised my body to do by walking toward the two. In that moment I had to stop and allow my logic to lead the way, and not my compassion for these two unfortunate youth.

How is it that these two could act out so violently and callously toward one another in the presence of so many strangers? What were they thinking of, and what could have been so powerful to each of them that they could lose sight of all the people who surrounded them?

I decided I would go no further. I decided their fate was cast and they had each chosen to be who they are. I decided my life was far too valuable — to me and to my loved ones — to risk losing it on this night. “I’m going to shoot you.” The statement reverberated in my mind and brought the reality of what our society has allowed to be wroth upon our youth.

No one else moved. There were no BART police in sight. There were no caring parents to protect that young girl. There was no responsible father to awaken the virtue and integrity that I know still exists in the mind of that young thug. There was no community of caring and nurturing adults to intervene on behalf of both of these youth. There was nothing.

My train came moments later, and I boarded it. I seated myself and thought about how that young lady might have felt. I wondered how defenseless and minute she must have felt knowing she could be treated so badly in public, around so many people, without any help at all. I could now understand how so many young women feel these terrible young thugs own them. And I wondered how that young man could have arrived at such a corrupt mental state.

Originally published March 19-25, 2008