The Art of War
by
Willie L. Perry There are quite a few matters that regularly test my patience and ability to maintain peace of mind. One matter in particular has forced me to behave as if I were in combat, on enemy territory.
    Mornings for me begin with relatively few and minor dilemmas - "Should I run? How far do I feel like running?  Do I have clean clothes to wear to work? What do I want for breakfast? Why don't I have any food in my fridge?", etc. Once these questions are resolved, I am ready to go out and face the world. Unfortunately, my "few and minor dilemmas" turn into combat strategy selection. So each morning I must remember to supply myself with the necessary combat equipment, which will enable me to survive the day. Emergency reserves of self-confidence, self-esteem, paranoia repellent (in patch form), one large can of "whup ass" (extra strength), and an innocent unassuming smile are all that I will need.
    Almost immediately, and usually very subtlety, the attacks begin when I step outside of my apartment and onto the elevator. The doors open, and I am greeted with looks of astonishment from the other tenants (whom I shall call my "attackers"), as if in disbelief that I could possibly be a resident in their building. These looks soon turn to expressions of forced friendliness, and I, being fully prepared for combat, counter this situation by appearing not to notice their uneasiness.
    I  juggle my apartment keys as a not so subtle sign of residency in the building (no, I'm not just some one night stand on his way out). Then I place the keys carefully into my briefcase. I make an obvious gesture of securing the snap and inverting the case so that the snap is not exposed (I learned this maneuver from one of my "attackers" who acted as if I was some thug out to rob him of his briefcase, which no doubt, contained large amounts of cash and valuables).
    Then, I calmly turn to my "attackers", acting as if I have just noticed their existence, and smile innocently. I execute this counter-attack just as the elevator doors are about to open in order to allow very little time for their possible counter-attack.
    When the doors open, I yield politely for women and bolt out in front of the men as if in a race to see who can make it to the door first. Once outside the confines of my apartment building, a more advanced form of attacks are set to begin.
    While walking to the train station, I notice a woman suddenly clutch her purse at the sight of me walking towards her. I, in retaliation, switch my briefcase to the right-hand, away from her, and move as far right on the sidewalk as possible. These gestures apparently annoy her, so I smile innocently while walking swiftly past her. Sometimes, in these types of incidences, I employ the can of "whup ass": a battery of looks and expressions along with a few whispered insults and comments within earshot of the "attacker". I especially enjoy this method because the effects are stunning, which enabling me to escape before any counter-attacks are launched.
    The next attack occurs at an intersection. While crossing the street, I hear the sounds of car door locks closing, just as I pass by. The paranoia patch, located at the base of my neck, mid-way between the shoulder blades, reacts to the tension, and I begin to experience a sense of euphoria. Suddenly I realize that the episode was completely coincidental. I happened across the street just as the drivers began to think about safety. Incidentally, I have noticed that for some reason I go through a lot of these patches while either shopping or in restaurants.
    Continuing on to the train station, I remember to stay calm and to maintain a slight yet innocent smile. I have learned to control my attitude and to never allow any of the attacks to upset my harmonious balance. People tend to behave much better towards me when I appear friendly and confident. So, while smiling in a "Hi good morning" manner towards the ticket agent, I insert my fare card and proceed through the gate. I receive, in return a cautious nod of acknowledgment. Good thing I remembered the extra supply of self-confidence and self-esteem. Sometimes my "friendly and confident" routine is not always as effective as I would like, but without it my day could be plenty worse.
    So why me? Why am I the victim of such unscrupulous attacks 7 days a week, 52 weeks a year? The situations I described are mild in comparison to some of  the treatment I am certain to receive throughout the day. After a little research, I have come upon what I believe to be the reason for these attacks, as well as a time table for when certain types of attacks are most likely to occur.
    Suddenly, from my sleeve, I produce the notorious "race card". Now this is not an article by some educated Black guy, whining about how unfair the world is treating him because of his race. Nor is it about the senseless and undignified ways in which human beings in general treat other human beings (man's inhumanity to man so to speak). No! We have heard all this before, and I for one have started to develop an immunity to all of the discourse concerning the unfair treatment of  people based on their race, religious beliefs, gender, or sexual orientation.
    Rather, this is simply an article describing some specifics of my day, and how I combat what I have termed my "attackers" (we all have them in some form or another), in their attempts to convince me that I am inferior to them. The attacks are real and I have altered my daily routine many times in order to reduce the emotional, and sometimes physical damage that can occur from being repeatedly attacked.
    The research I conducted (monitoring media instruments, and traveling throughout different neighborhoods across America) has led me to an astonishing conclusion. It may be entirely possible that I am being used as a scapegoat of sorts. There are people ("bad people"), who are behaving irresponsibly and inconsiderately. These people look an awful lot like myself, and could even pass for members of my immediate family.
    The news shows broadcast these people, whose physical appearance is almost identical to my own, being accused of engaging in all sorts of criminal activities throughout the U.S. Burglary, armed robbery, assault, and even murder are just some of the crimes they are being accused of committing. My "attackers" live in fear of being a victim of such crimes, which is the apparent reason for their illogical behavior.
    How are my "attackers" expected to think critically and restrain judgment, while being constantly bombarded with these adverse images and experiences? Surely they can not be depended upon to make the distinction between the "bad people" and myself, resembling them as I do.
    So, maybe the attacks perpetrated against me, are done so out of the belief that I am involved in some form of constant communication with these "bad people". That possibly, I am able to relay my "attackers'" message of anger and disapproval of the behavior being exhibited by these "bad people". Clearly, I have been made to feel responsible, not only for the behavior of the "bad people" , but also for the attacks to which I am subjected.
    Odd though it may seem, I understand their logic, and I truly do sympathize to some extent. But the truth of the matter is that I am not responsible for anyone's behavior other than my own and I don't have any special relationship or communications with the "bad people". I am a law abiding citizen who values responsibility and safety. Even though I have to work harder than some to obtain life's necessities, I am not willing to commit acts of crime or violence in order to acquire them. As a matter of fact, there are many people, physically resembling myself, who feel the same way.
    I suppose that some people are incapable of distinguishing between skin color and personality. For them, it appears easier to stereotype a particular race or culture of people rather than to realize that each person is an individual. An individual free to experience success and failure apart from  their specific race or culture. So each day, due to being incorrectly categorized, I am forced into combat.
        I have titled this article " The Art of War", borrowed from the author Sun Tzu of the book by the same name, because it seemed appropriate due to the intricacy, skill level, and preparation needed in order to execute these attacks and counter-attacks. So cleverly inflicted, that often times the origin of the attacks can go undetected. I have even, on occasion, been seriously wounded (emotionally), by an unsuspected attacker. But as I become more experienced in "The Art of War" (i.e. the detection and neutralization of narrow-minded individuals), the less likely I will be to suffer from injury. Now, I must replace my paranoia patch.