hate crime

Officer Pool is walking around my neighborhood flashing his light into all the corners of neighbor’s yards. I feel a little safer, but not too much. I have fear pulsing through my veins still. My heart is pounding from the adrenaline.

I woke up about an hour ago to the dog fussing. Something was wrong. She was barking. I looked out the windows and saw young people walking by on the street. I calmed her down and went back to bed. But she wouldn’t settle down. Then I thought I heard voices. I walked around upstairs in the dark, looked out the windows, listened. I didn’t see anything. But I kept thinking I might be hearing voices, rustling. I turned on my bedroom light. It seemed like they stopped. I didn’t want to believe that someone was in my yard. But I still thought I heard rustling.

I opened my bedroom window. Now the sound was unmistakable. I yelled “get the hell out of my yard.” And I watched four large young men jump over my fence. One of them looked back at my window and started yelling: “Fucking Fag. You deserve to die you fucking fag. Read the Bible man.” I was stunned, confused. I said something like “I am not a gay man. I am a woman, a wife, a mother.” “Bullshit, fucking fag. We know your gay and you deserve to die.” “Why do you think I’m gay?” Then he just laughed. At this point I was trying to find the phone and call the police and he was still yelling at me, more vile gay bashing. Then a rock hit the house next to my rainbow “PACE” fag and I realized that they must have thought that my rainbow flag was a gay emblem – it is actually an Italian Peace Flag.

I haven’t put stickers on my house or car for years. I had a couple unpleasant vandalism events in my early 20s and backed off from being so bold with my politics. In the last few years I have become louder again. I have become willing to speak my truth and claim it. I finally felt safe to claim my beliefs and be who I am in the world. And now I am thinking about taking down the flag. I am scared. As the adrenaline in my veins wears off, I find myself crying. I don’t want to sit here and cry. I don’t want to pace. And so I write to keep myself from collapsing in a puddle. I am writing because somehow these words make me safe. I am writing because I don’t know what else to do and it is 2 am and there is no one to call.

I have been the victim of terrorism. I am the victim of a hate crime, thankfully just a small one. I am so grateful for the dog or else the crime might have been worse. I am trying not to let myself imagine their intentions. I am grateful that my boys slept through this. My younger son already struggles to fall asleep. He already is afraid each night. Will I be able to honestly tell him tonight that he is safe?

The dog grumbles. I get up and walk around the house again. Neither of us is going to be able to sleep after that encounter with hatred and fear. My own fear is bubbling to the surface and I feel my heart tremble. I don’t feel safe in my home tonight. It is 2:30 in the morning. I don’t know what to do. I keep the phone in my hand as a weapon. I begin to wish that I owned a weapon.