Comments on: Invisible Men http://nostrandpark.com/2009/06/25/invisible-men/ Bringing Together the Best of Crown Heights Sat, 04 Feb 2012 15:44:25 +0000 hourly 1 http://wordpress.org/?v=3.3.1 By: Anonymous http://nostrandpark.com/2009/06/25/invisible-men/comment-page-1/#comment-64 Anonymous Fri, 26 Jun 2009 05:28:14 +0000 http://nostrandpark.com/?p=359#comment-64 <p>They are visible. I see them. I see them when they reach for me. When they spot me, like vultures, plotting with their boys, waiting for me to pass. I see them when they follow me up the street. I see the black ones. I see the white ones. The ones lurking in the subway stations. I see them all. </p><p>What is an uncomfortable conversation for some is an uncomfortable predicament for others. </p><p>I remember the bus ride home just the other day (1999). Man with humid breath laced with alcohol. The excess oozing from the corner of his mouth. And I - naive me - acknowledged his visibility, his humanity, with a soft smile. He leaned in to grab me with bold, confident hands. I recoiled just in time. But his glazed eyes continued to grope me. I moved to a different seat - monitoring from afar a very visible him. A little girl took my old seat.</p><p>I wish I could have had the luxury of being invisible. I would have harbored the little girl with me under my cloak.</p><p>No, it is not all of them. I don't even believe it to be most of them. In fact, it is probably only a handful. But I can't tell the difference. So I apologize in advance that I have to lump you all together. I do see you. I do.</p> They are visible. I see them. I see them when they reach for me. When they spot me, like vultures, plotting with their boys, waiting for me to pass. I see them when they follow me up the street. I see the black ones. I see the white ones. The ones lurking in the subway stations. I see them all.

What is an uncomfortable conversation for some is an uncomfortable predicament for others.

I remember the bus ride home just the other day (1999). Man with humid breath laced with alcohol. The excess oozing from the corner of his mouth. And I – naive me – acknowledged his visibility, his humanity, with a soft smile. He leaned in to grab me with bold, confident hands. I recoiled just in time. But his glazed eyes continued to grope me. I moved to a different seat – monitoring from afar a very visible him. A little girl took my old seat.

I wish I could have had the luxury of being invisible. I would have harbored the little girl with me under my cloak.

No, it is not all of them. I don’t even believe it to be most of them. In fact, it is probably only a handful. But I can’t tell the difference. So I apologize in advance that I have to lump you all together. I do see you. I do.

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