Nothing happened.
And we ignored it.
I simultaneously love and hate people.
I love people because I have some fantastic friends (and family). I love people because I’ve learned just as much from strangers as I have from those close to me. I love people because they care about others. I love people because Manchester is full of lovable people. I love people because when I show love, I usually get love in return.
At the same time, I hate people because we’re all that is wrong with the world. I hate people because there are too many of us who are sexist, or racist, or homophobic. I hate people because there are some who spit on the homeless, or set fire to their sleeping bags at night. I hate people because we don’t care about each other enough.
Thing is though, we all have the power to cut people from our lives when those individuals don’t align with our positive mindsets or empathetic nature. If we don’t make use of that power, or are refused the opportunity to wield it, we risk having our compassion beaten out of us.
Clearly, with the lack of compassion in this world, that happens a lot.
Hate.
At the start of the year, I’d just walked Jen to work after we’d done some shopping in the city centre and was heading for the bus stop to get back home.
As I’m stood at the lights, a Middle Eastern guy puts himself next to me, minding his own business, waiting for the green man to illuminate.
Just me and another human, stood next to each other, both waiting for the sign to tell us that it’s safe to cross a busy road.
“Go back to your own country you paki!”
The man next to me must’ve heard all of this before. He doesn’t even flinch.
The traffic lights aren’t prejudice. They’re still letting cars go through. White cars, black cars, red cars, one yellow car, silver cars.
“Piss off back home!”
My Middle Eastern acquaintance stands, motionless. He stares straight ahead at the traffic lights, waiting to see red. I already have.
This abuse. This poison. I can’t believe I’m hearing this in broad daylight in the centre of my favourite city on the planet. Where has this come from?
But wait, there’s more. The two, middle-aged white men shouting this stuff are on the other side of the road, walking on. They cross paths with a young Muslim girl in a headscarf.
“FOREIGNER!” one of them screams at her as he struts past, stooping down to get in her face. She pulls back, but keeps her head down and ignores them.
Damn, I’m thinking, people suck.
Then, the green man flashed, and everyone got on with their day.
The Middle Eastern crossed the road.
The young girl kept walking.
I crossed the road.
Nothing happened.
No, wait a second.
Something just happened.
I’d just witnessed pure, racist hatred.
A busy city street had just witnessed pure, racist hatred.
It hung in the air, and then we all just dismissed it. Like a bad smell, we waved our hands in front of our faces and moved away as quickly as possible.
What’s wrong with us? Why did we all freeze? Where was the support? The rallying cry that said no, this isn’t okay, not in Manchester, not in 2016.
Instead, the green man flashed, and everyone got on with their day.
The Middle Eastern crossed the road.
The young girl kept walking.
I crossed the road.
Nothing happened.
