A Clean Justice I Did for Myself
I used a day and money to prove I did have the right although there was no remedy or apology. The final reward for claiming justice was a bowl of shaved ice.
I know the feeling of being treated like dirt, being discriminated against, being in solitude, and being excruciated from self-blaming. Therefore, I try my best to put myself in every shoe and treat people the way I would hope to be treated.
My dad sometimes chastises me, urging me to have some dignity. I question myself, “Shouldn’t people treat other people like this?”
Today, I took a step that I believed was right, a step toward claiming a bit of justice, even if it pales in comparison to the wars happening in the world.
I not only live for myself, but I also speak up for myself.
I went to a police station, but it was a two-hour ordeal as they seemed impassive and professional, and responded to me like reading a law textbook. Maybe it was called objective justice, but I did not see a sliver of humanity.
Next, I went to Karl Karsten’s language learning center. A proud American from Albuquerque, New Mexico, always claiming his life goal is to save all Asian women from mental trauma. I waited outside his class because I didn’t want to disrupt the instructor and other classmates’ learning rights.
An intern noticed and invited me into the office. I didn’t cry, but she repeatedly asked if I was okay, her hand patting my back in a comforting manner. When I shared my story with her, she rolled her eyes, and interrupted me, saying, “It’s not your fault.” The anger, disbelief, and sympathy made me feel saved.
During the class break, Karl Karsten came into the office, and an office lady led us to a conference room. I told my side of the experience, but Karl’s responses were limited to, “Thanks for letting me respond,” (when no one ever stopped him to say anything.) And “I can tell you’re upset. I’m sorry.”
Frustrated, I urged him to say something meaningful to defend himself, so the office lady could comprehend the situation. Lastly, Karl said, “How much does she spend on taxi fees? I can pay for them.”
I just looked at the office lady, speechless, and she immediately said, “She doesn’t need your money.” Later, she told me that if I went to see a mental therapist, Karl should cover my medical expenses.
I declined, mentioning that I’d been taking my medication without issues. And I wasn’t affected to the point that worsened or evoked my previous traumas.
I said, “I was too naive, terrified, and confused to collect evidence or record our conversation. I blocked Karl Karsten right away on that night, so I didn’t have any other proof of what he said. Regardless, my purpose was not to seek justice through the school but to expose his true character. I wanted him to know that the girl who kept apologizing that night dared to speak out. Whether or not the school takes any action against “that thing,” I didn’t care about “a thing’s” life. I am here to selfishly stand up for my justice and expose a devil.”
Without giving a glance at Karl Karsten, I left the room, and the lady walked me out to take a taxi and thanked me for having the courage and for speaking up. It was a religious school, and though I had long considered myself an atheist, at that moment, I felt valued, protected, and loved by other people. And if this religion shapes people into treating things with sympathy and empathy, it’s my pleasure to have the same faith.
I took a taxi to buy a bowl of shaved ice and walked home. I told myself, “That’s it. It’s over, and I did it. Let it end with a better me.”
I did not receive any apologies, regretful words, or money. I did not know whether Karl Karsten would be discharged and sent back to New Mexico or not. I made a righteous act to show my life principles and justice. My parents supported me in writing, and I would 200% more focus on it.
There was no jail, no gavel, no sentence. It was a clean, sincere, and genuine justice-claiming ending with a bowl of shaved ice with four ingredients. (Guess what’s inside from the picture!)
