Letter from Boston
I’ll take you back to the late 80s, early 90s in Boston. 1988 I was 12 years old, at this point I was already becoming accustomed to a weekly rat packing at the hands of 3-5 black teenage males…but on this day I was in for the worst beating to date.
I was cutting through Wainwright park to get to the redline station ‘shawmut’. On my way to the station, it was a beautiful day in the start of summer in Boston, so everyone was out…all stoops full. It started the way it always started. One would approach me, close to my age and the rest would swarm in to surround me. Before I knew it, I was surrounded by 10-12 late teenage black males. That number quickly doubled as the stoops cleared out to start the oncoming beating.
I heard the typical insults and questions…”whatchu doing around here whiteboy”. But on this day, the triple decker porches were also all full, from the porches came female voices screaming “f*ck the devil up” “f*ck that white boy” etc. I’ll never forget the first punch that set this beating off.
I’d say he was early 20s. I saw him take his shirt off and speed walk in my direction. I knew it was coming and there was no way to get out of this. He stepped up on to the curb an gave me an overhand right, that immediately after, I was being punched and kicked from every direction. After maybe 20-30 seconds of that, someone knocked me off my feet.
This is were it turned ugly… I was having my head punted off a brick wall, maybe 5,6 of those punts. I have absolutely no idea what adrenaline entered my body, but I was shockingly able to stand up run and swing. I ran maybe 20 yards before I was kicked in the ribs and knocked back off my feet right at the entrance to the train. Somehow I managed to get in the train station jump the turnstile and end up on a bench at the platform.
Long story short, I ended up with a handful of broken ribs, the bones in my face had splintered behind my nose and into my ear canal, to this day my right ear and right nostril don’t function. The bones in my nasal and ear canal restrict full breathing and hearing.
I kept it brief for you. But again, this was only one of maybe 100 or so times I dealt with this in my early years in Boston.
Thanks for the outlet. I appreciate you