I've just read [livejournal.com profile] kizzia's latest post, in which she discusses how the whole sexism debate sparked by [livejournal.com profile] wellingtongoose's recent meta on the subject has made her feel - specifically in relation to the hate that [livejournal.com profile] wellingtongoose has received for daring to venture an opinion on the topic. 

I wish I had written this - GO READ IT HERE - it encapsulates exactly how I feel about the whole thing. 

Bullying is never acceptable.

Just no!
bradspyjamas: (Boxer Bradley)
I'm typing this with one hand and so jacked up on pain meds that I doubt this post will make much sense. So this my advanced apology for the poor spelling and positively illogical sentence construction I'm certain you are about to encounter. I gravel at your feet and beg forgiveness but I need to say this:

You see this evening I've been admonished (admittedly quite politely) by the police, yelled at by my best friend and my mother has told me my actions were stupid and irresponsible.

I disagree.  

Quite vehemently actually.

I'm actually quite proud of myself.

I've always believed that I would not walk away if I thought someone was in danger. Always hoped that I would not pretend I couldn't see what was happening in front of me, that I wouldn't be a coward. That I would act for others as I hoped others would act for me.

I know now that my belief was correct. I might be an idiot but I'm not a hypocrite.

I took my usual short cut home from the station tonight.  It's a sort of alley-come-path down the back of the flats and I don't often see anyone down there.  Only this evening I rounded the corner to find two teenagers pinning another lad to the wall. I won't repeat what they were calling him, but safe to say they had issues with homosexuality and were under the impression this boy needed to be straightened out.  

I supposed I'm lucky they were so preoccupied with being menacing at first that they didn't notice me back up and call the police. Who told me to get out of there, that they were on their way and I shouldn't get involved.  

You've probably guessed that I didn't.  

Because as I hung up the lad called for help and they started using their fists. 

I'm still not sure what I thought I was going to do.  I'm 5'4 and relatively slim. The most warrior like thing I've ever done is pretend to be a Thundercat when I was five (and I was Snarf)

So I shouted "take your hands off him, I've called the police," and barrelled straight in. As it was I only managed to get one of them in the balls before I was overwhelmed.  

Apparently they also have authority issues and didn't like being told what to do. 

Thankfully their intended victim also decided to fight back and the wail of sirens did what my words couldn't and scared them off.

By that point they'd made quite a mess of the right side of my face and broken my arm in two places. The lad who they'd been intending to beat the seven bells out of has cracked ribs and a broken jaw. I'm eternally grateful that neither of the little shites were carrying knives.  

I doubt they'll be caught.  The lad is too frightened to say who they were - he definitely knew them though - and they had their hoods up and their backs to me until I got to them. I barely got a look before I got hit so hard my vision blurred.

The police were great and the hospital staff patched me up in no time but they all made it plain they didn't approve, that they thought I'd done the wrong thing.  My bestie, who is still here - apparently I can't be left alone as I have a head injury - is still fuming that I'd put myself in danger for someone I didn't know.  And my mum, who my bestie called because "she had a right to know her daughter is injured" is frantic.  I've only just managed to convince her that I don't need her to fly back and nurse me.  It's a broken arm, it'll heal, I'll manage. As my Nan used to say, I've made my own bed, now I must lie in it.

I don't care that I didn't know the lad from Adam. He needed help, I was there. That's all there is to it.

I do care that I've worried the people I love but I can't regret my actions. I will never, under any circumstances, accept that trying to help another person is wrong. 

Despite the injuries, despite the anxiety I've caused my loved ones, despite everything, I'd do it again in a heartbeat.

I just wish I lived in a world where it wasn't necessary in the first place. 

PS my bestie has just sort of beta'd this for me so it probably makes sense for the most part. He's forgiven me for scaring the heck out of him - I think - well, he's gone to make me chicken soup and hot orange which sounds like forgiveness to me ;)

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bradspyjamas

July 2013

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