[Trigger warning (TW): This story contains descriptions of violence.]

I saw something on the news today that kept my stomach in knots all day. 

I saw a video of a brazen man beating an elderly, Asian woman on the city sidewalk, and not in an alley, not at 2 a.m. It was in broad daylight, right in front of an upscale hotel.

That in of itself was enough to make me feel sick, but what really got me was the security footage from inside that hotel lobby. 

It showed two hotel bellmen inside watching as this was all happening. They were just standing there, frozen. And then they did something: they walked up to the entranceway, just 5 feet away from where this woman was lying on the floor with this man standing over her. Then they locked the door shut, locking themselves safely in, and locking her outside, with that man.

That’s what got me. What if that woman was me? The shock, the disgust of, “How could they not do something?” Anything. Anything to actually help. 

At that moment, I thought of you.

I wished you could’ve happened to be walking down that city sidewalk that morning, because I know you would have done something. 

I know this because of that one summer night years ago when we were waiting in the car to pick up takeout from our favorite Thai restaurant. 

We were listening to country music on the radio, and then before I even knew what was happening, you darted out of the car in a frenzy, without time for a word of explanation. 

I stumbled out of the car after you as fast as I could, losing my flip flops somewhere in the process, and just having that pit in my stomach with that sense that something was very wrong.

Apparently, you’d just witnessed a man hit a woman across the face, feet away from a half dozen people enjoying what-was their peaceful dinner on the restaurant’s front patio. He hit her as if he knew nobody would do anything, as if he was invisible, and as if he knew there’d be no consequences.

It took you all of about 2 seconds to step up to this man and get right in his face. You had no hesitation, no fear. You told him, “I dare you to hit me, someone your own size.” 

He didn't. Somehow, you didn't lay a hand on him either.

Meanwhile, I just stood there barefoot on the sidewalk next to you, frozen, just trying to piece together what was happening, and not knowing what to do. 

I remember the next moment, when the woman, the one who moments ago couldn’t defend herself, then came to his defense, and stepped in between you and that man. She looked at you and said, “Please stop, everything is okay. Please, I’m fine.”

I remember my heart being so broken at that moment. There was so much - the guy, the woman, you, those people just standing by watching, and me, just standing there in my bare feet.

That was the last time we went to that restaurant.

So this morning when I saw that video today, I thought of you. 

Because I know if you were there, you would have done something. 

Somehow, I don't think you would have had the same restraint with this man. I don't think it would have ended well for him, and at the end of the day, I don't think it would have ended well for you either. But I know you wouldn't have given the slightest care in the world about that. 

You would have made that brazen man feel scared and small, you would’ve made sure that woman didn’t feel alone in the world, and you wouldn’t have stopped there- you probably would have made it a point to make the bellmen feel like cowards that a woman had to be the one to step in.

So when I saw it, I wished that you could have been there.

And if you couldn't be there, I’d wish that I could have been there. 

And if I could have been there, I would have wished that I'd have the courage to step in, to not stand by, to not leave it to the professionals. 

For that woman I’ve never met, and for the backstory I know nothing about. I would hope that for me, and I’d wish that for all of us.

That's where I would’ve wanted to end this story, if it was up to me.

But when I saw that woman on the TV this morning, I realized there was more to it that kept my stomach in knots all day.

Because just as I was wishing you’d be there to protect that woman on the news this morning, you were also that person for me. 

I’d always knew if something crazy ever happened, that you’d protect me. I felt safe with you. There was the sense that when I was with you, that no matter what happened, I would be okay.

But that’s not quite how it turned out.

Because there came a time where I wasn’t okay. I wasn’t safe. 

There was a time I was hurt and disregarded and felt thrown away with the trash, with no regard, by someone with that cold look in their eyes. With no concern about the consequences. And it changed me, forever.

And you weren’t there for me. You didn’t protect me.

Because the cold eyes looking back at me, they were yours. It was you.

Not some stranger, but someone so close, who I thought knew me best and cared about me more than anyone. 

I remember being frozen again in disbelief of what was happening. Because I’d never thought this would happen.

And when I add it all together, I just couldn’t reconcile how you could be that person that I would wish was there to protect that woman and also that person that I’d wish someone else could have protected me from.

What a mindfuck of, “How could someone be both?” 

Eventually though, I started to realize how it could be, how none of us are just one thing. 

I know this because I remember that just in that moment, when I was in disbelief of what was happening, of what pain you were causing me, someone did step in.

They stood up to you with no hesitation, with no fear.

And this time, that someone was me.