Monday, September 25, 2017

On Kneeling

A few years ago, a homeless lady asked me for some money for lunch.  I was not in a hurry and had been praying recently about what my time should look like. Kimmy, my wife, was out of town and I knew I'd be at the office late that night so I had some time to spare. I told her I wouldn't give her cash but she was welcome to join me at McDonald's.  We talked for awhile about work and her life and where she lived.  A conversation I've had with dozens of homeless people over the years.  She was homeless but had some skills and had her associate's degree.  She seemed like a good person and I gave her my card because my company is always hiring.  I also got her a McDonald's gift card. That was Friday.

On Monday my work phone rang (Kimmy was still out of town) and it was the homeless lady. She said she hadn't eaten in awhile and it was like 8:30 PM and I hadn't either. We decided to meet at Al's Beef by the Brown Line. We ate dinner and had a good chat. She told me about her poetry and other stuff. Then dinner was over and I decided to walk to the Brown Line to take it down to the Blue and go home. As we walked she asked me for some money. I had just given her a gift card and bought her lunch and in my dealings with the homeless in the past, I knew that if it was going to be a friendship, you had to say no at one time or another. So I said no. She got pissed. She was 5'1 or so and maybe 115 and I'm about 5'11 and north of 200 pounds. She threw her drink in the trash and starting asking if we were really friends. I said yeah but friends need boundaries. This went on for another few blocks with me now realizing that meeting a homeless person after dark (I think it was February) in a mostly abandoned part of the city was a bad plan. We kept talking (she's yelling, I'm talking) and she says "just you fucking wait." This goes on for a block. I'm freaking out but I'm not going to run.

Now I'm realizing that she could legit say I tried to rape her and I would be in trouble. We walk up the stairs at the Brown Line (well, I walked up the stairs. She tried to block me but I figure more people = more safety and she's not big enough to stop me) and she's threatening me. I figure I'll tell the cops the truth and probably spend a night in jail. Lesson learned. We get to the top and she starts screaming at the attendant that I stole her money. Thankfully the homeless are less logical and more worried about the immediate than the long term damage. She's screaming and I'm just standing there sheepishly. At this point, the attendant has locked herself in the booth and is calling the cops. The lady grabs a broom and tries to break off the handle but fails and starts swinging it around. At this point I'm trying not to laugh at the absolute absurdity of the situation.

She's yelling that I stole her sixty dollars and says if I don't give it to her she's going to hit me. I say OK. So she cracks me on the knee. It hit right behind my left knee about an inch up and hurt like hell and left an awesome bruise (a picture of which I no longer have on my phone as this was a couple years ago). Thankfully I have an OK pain tolerance and my adrenaline is flowing so I'm mostly immune. Even so I don't want to get hit anymore so I give her the $60 thinking she'll leave. Now she starts screaming I stole her $80. She then says shes going to hit me in the head. So I say "OK, you can hit me in the head, just let me take my glasses off." I take my glasses off, get on my knees in front of her so I'm in a non-threatening posture and say "Hit me." At this point the Brown Line shows up and people get off.

And there's a 5'1 homeless lady swinging a push broom at a 5'11 guy who's on his knees in front of her and an attendant with the door locked. And you know what these people on the Brown Line do? They walk around us. I'm looking at them pleadingly trying to figure out why they care so little when trying to help got me into this position. About a minute after the people leave, the cops show up and the homeless lady sees their hats coming up the steps and bolts.

I tell them the story and they question my sanity, as I do sometimes. I leave and I think of all the homeless people who I've sat down with at McDonalds and not have something like this happen. And my heart breaks. Not for my leg, that hurts, not for my safety, which was only kind of in danger, but for that homeless lady. Who doesn't know what love and friendship are. Who views people not as humans but as things to take advantage of. I feel sorry for the people who walk through life protecting themselves from a situation like that. And even when they see it in front of them, they pass it by without a second glance. I walk from the Brown Line stop, alone, through downtown and call my wife and tell her. She's proud of me. And I'm proud of me.

And then a few years later a man kneels on the sideline of a football stadium and I remember kneeling in front of the lady.  I remember kneeling at the altar with my mom when I wanted to drop out of college and move to California to be with my girlfriend.  I remember kneeling while praying in a hospital for a person who had cancer.  I remember kneeling with my wife at my wedding.  I remember kneeling in front of my grandpa's casket.

I remember the awkwardness and unnaturalness of kneeling and I wonder at what drives a man to kneel when everyone else is standing.

And I remember the lady and the people on the Brown Line who didn't want to get involved with the person kneeling.  So I researched more and I prayed more and I asked myself what it means to kneel when everyone around you stands.  

And I'm boycotting the NFL this year.  Maybe it's a White Liberal gesture of insanity and a meaningless assuagement of the guilt I feel.  Maybe I'm in solidarity with my Black and Brown brothers and sisters who deal with things I don't even comprehend.  Maybe it's more complicated than that.  I don't know.

But mostly, it's because in all my instances of kneeling the one thing I didn't want to do was kneel alone and, in my heart, I'm taking a knee as well.

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