Editor’s note: The following article is an op-ed, and the views expressed are the author’s own. Read more opinions on theGrio.
Last week, a brave hero saved me from a racist animal attack.
I was having lunch at a posh sidewalk cafe next to a crew of white people who, of course, had a dog with them. Even though I have a Great Dane, as a Black man, I typically don’t mess with other people’s pets. As I always say: White people love dogs; Black people love their dogs. In any case, my lunch companion was petting the strange dog that she had never seen in her life when she realized I was in danger. Just as the ferocious beast pierced my skin, my friend screamed, kicked off one of her shoes and — in one swift move — killed my attacker.
It was a mosquito.
After neutralizing the threat to my life using nothing but bravery and a bejeweled sandal, she returned to the table where I sat calmly and slipped on her shoe/weapon. As she marveled at my composure and checked to see if I needed anything for the bite, I promised her that I would be fine and offered to go inside if the bugs bothered her. “No, I love being outside,” she said. “I know I just went up to a stranger and petted their dog, but I don’t do bugs. Is that crazy?”
I explained that I was from South Carolina and now live in Georgia, so I’ve actually developed a tolerance for mosquito bites. They don’t even leave a bump or make my skin itch anymore. I don’t even feel them.
“But you’re not crazy,” I said. “That’s how I deal with white…
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