There are so many times in my life, so many places where I don’t feel safe. There are places where I do, but the unsafe places proliferate.

I’m on a walk to Central Park. My intention is to find a nice shaded bench to warm up for singing tonight. I have my earbuds in, because I really want to avoid the hustlers along the way. I’m not knocking their hustles mind you. I just prefer my music playlist.

As I see a bench that fits the bill, this stocky, South Asian presenting man approaches me. I am in ignore mode, as is my right. He must have been really offended that I had the audacity to not listen to him. He throws his full can of beer at me as I walk by. Then he kicks it at me. As the beer spills all over the back of my legs, I turn around expecting a physical fight. He keeps his distance and I look at him sternly and shake my head. He disappeared somewhere and I went to warm up. A bird crapped on me, but that was a good omen.

When I finished warming up, I went back in the same direction I came from. I refused to walk in fear, but I was even more vigilant. The universe dictates when my final time comes, not him or I. As a Blackman in them streets, I can’t control what other’s think. All I can be is myself. That is a de-escalator and a man with agency, in relative control of his emotions and his reactions.

I walked away from this situation even more Zen than before it. Thank God I’m alive. Thank the universe for every breath.