The Preacher-man on the Bus

The Preacher-man on the Bus. This was in New Orleans, after dark. Most of the seats were vacant.

A Black man got on, dressed smartly in robes inspired by ancient icons of Egyptian Royalty, sat right beside me on the double seat, and yelled “I hate white people!” Then he proceeded to shout out a story about how an evil scientist named Yakub created white people to serve as warrior-slaves. He said, this is why white people are evil and cunning, and have no heart or conscience. No soul. Because God did not make white people, an evil man did. He said, white people were never supposed to escape Yakub’s control and were never supposed to eat meat. Having done both of these things, white people are irredeemable and need to be either enslaved or put down like rabid dogs.

I’d heard this story before, because I read forbidden lit. I felt it had more than a grain of truth. Putting myself in his shoes, I could see how he would feel like he did. Even so, I didn’t feel right sitting beside a perfect stranger hollering about how evil I am and how much he hates me. And I didn’t see why he would want to sit next to me if he hated me so much. So I got up and moved. Then he looked at me and shouted a few times, You better move!

I got off at the next stop and walked several miles home, never once looking back. The bitter rain poured, cold as the world, cold as White Supremacy.

Could I have handled this situation better? Readers, what do you think? Stay tuned for follow-up, what I wished I’d done, should have done. And what probably would have happened next, based on similar encounters I’ve had over the years.