Unsafe New York: Part Twenty Three

HEY, DID YOU "FINISH": OR A TRAFFIC COP
Still, on November 20th, the day of the "hoe and the spit" as I was walking away being a hoe and a bitch, and having my direction being spat in, I walked over to the interviewing for a position in a cafe. The hoe and the bitch had to eat, and for that she needed a job, she needed to exist so that the boyz club could continue to spew its enormous hatred and blame shifting game on her, she needed to be so that she could be told to shut the fuck off and rebuffed for being from another country. The hoe was needed, as a place holder, as a garbage collector of male's hatred, a punching bag for his anger, and a scape goat for his mistakes. This was a sacred function of the hoe. And she was going to perform it. She also had to live to see men pushing other women around, hurting them, discriminating against them and dictating them against their own Sacred Will. She needed to witness the death threats, the abuse, the humiliation, the dehumanization, the abuse.
So, the hoe got to the cafe and after having made an inquiry for the owner and having received the response that she was not yet in, I, the HOE, went outside to stand by, to chill out and catch my breath. I stood and shook, internally and externally, from cold and from insult, for me and for them. I was crying inwardly.
Why? I kept asking myself.
Why?
Why do they get away with murdering us and humiliating us?
"Yo, wow, check this out, son, look at that. Hey, hey, are you "done" yet? Have you "finished" yet? I want to see you cum...(:come)" - I heard the exchange. One guy interjected another. The suggestions to "cum down" were repeated. Followed by merry, juicy laughter. "Look at that, man, hard working at that too! Gonna polish it or what? "Finish" already!" I was at first deeply emersed into my grief, but the insesant referencing and loud laugheter and hooting got my attention. I wasn't sure what to make of it. "Who could they be talking to?" I asked myself. I looked up. To my right, there were two Black guys walking away, roaring with laughter. I traced their eyes and direction of their speech.
To my immediate left.
To my immediate left there stood a ...cop. A traffic cop. A traffic police officer. She stood there and wrote out a ticket to a guy parked for the past 10 minutes by the fire hydrant. She did not look up. Her small, neatly clad figure expressed dignity. I could tell that even thought she was holding herself, she shook inwardly. Her dark skin was well groomed and she was handsome in a working class way. She took care of herself and her job, she was neat and organized. She was prabaly enrolled for some college credits in a local school. Her lower lip was severely bit, and her pen steady. She was strongly built below this uniform, and she was doing her job. She probably could lift and bench, and protect if necessary. She most probably had a family, and maybe a daughter who had two amazing kinky braids, tied in pink ribbons. She had a back pack with a Little Mermaid painted on it, and a lunch box with Cinderella. Maybe she did not have a daughter, maybe she was just proudly out of the Academy, and had her Diploma on the wall, lamenated. Maybe she did not even have that. Maybe she graduated a long time ago and was a proud police officer, serving us and our community. And she was doing her job well. She was receiving her salary not in vain. And the guys continued embrassing her to the whole street. She stood there, absolutely calm, unruffled, though I could tell she tremored inside. She has finished writing out the ticket and now has placed it on the window shield of the car. I heard "finished yet" and "yo, yo, what are you doing" and added under their smelly breath was: bitch. An approaching dread-locked guy was hurrying towards the car. He grabbed the ticket and made some comments in a dialect I did not understand. The police officer looked at him, put her note pad and her pen away, then straightened out her unifrom, and faced the to look at the guy,
- at her 5'3, she was a sight to behold, standing absolutely calm and unruffled, standing up in front of this 6 foot something, massively tricepted creature with nasty barred teeth. She stood there and looked at him, and then she calmly and composed walked away. She glanced at me as she passed by, and I felt the shudder. I put my head down in shame and regretted not looking away sooner, but I was spellbound by her. And now, now she knew that I saw her shame. We shared in this shameful knowledge, and I was sorry that it had to happen. But she had nothing to feel sorry about. She did everything right. She was the man. She made me and my race proud. She made us all proud that day, when she would not look down and not shake. She, and her diploma, and her daughter, and her community, and the entire city, fuck, the entire country is a better place for officers like her. I salute you, oh unknown servant, who loyaly and staunchly opposed the oppresion and the humiliation. I salute you, a woman to woman, and I salute you, a human being, to human being. And I thank you for letting me see you and what you have to live through, daily, day after day. I will not forget.
She has passed and I look at my watch, Then I drank some water. I was still yet to interview. And it looked like it was time.