Three on a Hill

I have had the unusual privilege of being a victim, on multiple occasions, of three different ethnic types in my own country: African-American, Hispanic, and Caucasian. Here I will speak of one situation with some white guys since the motives of the other two entities were usually a matter of simple economics – a few dollars and nothing more. In one incident, in South Carolina, three white men with shotguns approached me and then chased me through the woods at night. Why? You must understand of course, in these situations one does not stop to inquire as to the disposition or rationale of the assailants. You run. Yes, you await a moment of opportunity and then let your adrenaline have its leeway. Under a bright moon you speed as silently as possible through the dark ambiguity of a forest, dodging roots and ignoring branches that whip and cut your face.

But what had I done? I had only sat by the lake after a long day working as a cook. Why did these men suddenly feel that they could hunt down a fellow citizen? Where did that power come from? What cruelty inflamed these three men to simultaneously and hungrily seek out violence? What great American value were they dispensing?

I suppose it doesn’t matter because I’m still here and therefore, I won.

Photograph by Arne Ader - Moonlight in Puhtu Forest