So, today as I walking into Locke Hall on Howard's campus, some young men decided to add sound effects to the supposed vibration my footsteps were causing, al estilo de Lardass Hogan in Stand by Me.
I let them get away with two "boom baba boom"s; when I heard the third one, I snapped. I spun around, walked straight towards them, singling out the leader. I yelled at him, "You think it's funny? You think you're a big man for making fun of me?" He wilted, coward that he was, and wouldn't make eye contact with me, as he sought an escape route. I could've called him names; I could've bullied him--cut his balls off in front of everyone--but I didn't. I just said, "I am a professor" and walked inside.
I've since replayed the scene and wished, darkly, that I had gone further. But, that's not the right thing to do. And yet, I feel bad for what I did. I didn't do anything wrong; I defended my dignity, but I still feel like I should've just ignored it. I'm 34 and still having to put up with fat jokes.
Home, where my thoughts are waiting; home, where the music's playing; home, where my love lies waiting pregnantly for me.