Online since June 1997!

Now I'm Just a Fat Nigger

2006-Dec-22 -- I’ve been called a lot of things in my day, but this takes the cake. 

My (biracial) daughter, Alex, and I were on the E train on the way to JFK Airport to pick up my cousin and his wife arriving from Italy for the holidays.  She was seated in a car which had no empty seats left and with a few people like me standing (so not sardine-packed).  From behind me I was pushed deliberately (Alex even saw it) by some punk who I do not believe perceived me speaking to Alex at first.  I immediately went ghetto on him and said, "it's called 'excuse me'" to which the young black man said, "you saw me coming, nigger!"  I said, "Do I have eyes on the back of my head, you rude mother fucker?"  He was shocked at my sailor potty-mouth dishpan response without missing a beat.  He couldn't quite look me in the eye for some reason, but faced me from about seven feet away and started calling me a "fat nigger" and rambling on unintelligibly.  He obviously makes it a routine to pick fights.  I told Alex quietly to put her head up as she was looking down as if to submit without dignity, which I told we have.  Then I pointed to him and loudly said to her, "THAT is why you shouldn't do drugs!"  He mumbled something about not being Sean Bell (the black, unarmed groom who was recently shot by mostly Latino/black cops fifty plus times). 

I guess when he saw me from the front and saw how mean I looked, he realized he had picked the wrong brother.  He probably thought I was a cop because I was so ready to call him on his rude behavior.  Especially in front of my daughter, I wasn't going to let some punk ass make me his punching bag, verbally or otherwise.  I was in control of the scene.  If he was going to pull something out of his puffy jacket, I wasn't going to be caught off guard.  I had him stared down so that I was ready to rush him if necessary and I had a clear line to do so, which he realized, so he headed toward the back door of the train.  I had a feeling that the entire train ridership was behind me, so I was emboldened and empowered, especially since I knew I was in the right.  There was no way that he did not have enough room to walk around me.  He then mumbled about how he was prepared to let me watch him until 71st Street and then he sat down, but then he must have gotten intimidated as he eventually said he didn't want to look at the "fat nigger" anymore and then went to another car while the train was still in motion, but not before I called him a big pussy a few times.  Imagine if I would have kicked his ass and then told him he had just been beaten up by a fag?

During the whole ordeal Alex was scared that he had a weapon, but she was glad I spoke up.  I asked her if I sounded like a big queen when I told him off.  She said that he only called me a fat nigger because he didn’t have anything else to say.  Later she told me that she observed some of the passengers laughing, hopefully because I put the punk in his place.  She lamented about how hard it must be to be a guy to be challenged like that.  Women may get harassed by gawking passersby, but men sometimes have to assert themselves just for existing.  Alex also speculated that my quick wit probably came from my law school training.  I don't know how many times I was taught to call someone a pussy and a mother-fucker in law school, but I'm glad it worked.  I hope the bastard learned a lesson not to take for granted that he can start up with passengers at random.  After not having an incident quite this intense in over 22 years of living here, I was just glad that this did not happen minutes after my cousin and his wife arrived in New York for the first time in their lives.  My mother wants me to be careful, of course, but she laughed and asked me, “Did you really call him a mother-fucker?”

A few months ago Alex asked me if I ever used the word "Nigger".  I told her, "Of course!" Let me qualify that.  I proceeded to explain to her that it's a disgusting word and I hate it, but recently I had been contacted by a very annoying gay guy who lived very far away and who had a very shady profile.  I told her that he was not someone who I was interested in communicating with for any reason. Defensive to my lack of interest, he retorted with, "What's wrong man, is the fact that I'm a black man intimidating to you?" I immediately responded with, "Nigger, please! You obviously don't know me."  My life story speaks for itself.

This page was last updated 28-Dec-2007.