LOIE
Gold Member
- May 11, 2017
- 954
- 325
- 190
When I was in my early twenties, I was attacked, thrown down a flight of stairs and threatened with rape. My attacker was a young black man called Frosty. I was, miraculously, unharmed.
For the next few days I had trouble sleeping. Every night when I closed my eyes I would see Frosty’s angry, black face coming towards me. But in the light of the next morning, I would also see the faces of Brother Sam, Brother Joe, Brother Charles and Brother Matt. They were all wonderful black men I’d come to know and love at my church.
Frosty was one black man. One black man that scared me. One black man that threatened me. But could I say from then on that black men were violent? No, just that Frosty was. Could I say from then on that black men are scary? No, just that Frosty was.
As an individual I learned from this and many other experiences that I cannot and must not stereotype black men.
For the next few days I had trouble sleeping. Every night when I closed my eyes I would see Frosty’s angry, black face coming towards me. But in the light of the next morning, I would also see the faces of Brother Sam, Brother Joe, Brother Charles and Brother Matt. They were all wonderful black men I’d come to know and love at my church.
Frosty was one black man. One black man that scared me. One black man that threatened me. But could I say from then on that black men were violent? No, just that Frosty was. Could I say from then on that black men are scary? No, just that Frosty was.
As an individual I learned from this and many other experiences that I cannot and must not stereotype black men.