LONELY

by Erin Bradford

Walking through the streets of South Central Los Angeles, I see cars pass me by with boomin' stereos playing Ice Cube, Snoop Doggy Dogg, or Eazy-E. They are honkin' their horns and glaring at me. A white girl in a black person's territory. People pass me by calling me a "whigger" or a "sell-out," not even realizing that what they see is who I really am. Some people don't even say anything. They just give me looks of disgust and in a way that is even worse than not saying what they think. I would rather have people say what is really on their minds than not tell me what they think.

I walk further on; I'm in gang territory now, gotta watch myself 'cause there's no one to watch over me. Life's hard, but it's even harder when you're a stranger in a strange land. All alone. No one to love you. No one for you to love. Life's hard. Why can't people look farther than the physical specimen. Color don't matter none. Try to tell them that! With all the hoop-la around Rodney King, they only see white people as cruel,pale, little devils. If only they could see it from my point of view. Life may be hard, but it don't have to be.

Gang members start followin' me, checkin' me, clockin' me. They wonderin' why I'm here, what I'm doing'. News flash guys: I live here, too. Just moved here matter-of-fact. Live down the street. Didn't ya know? Then again, how could you not? Gangs flashin' their colors this way and that. Hands on their gats--AK's and Wesson-Smith's--they don't need to do that. Just trying to get home, that's all I want. Cursin' me out, that's all they know. I understand where their anger is comin' from, but didn't their mamas ever tell them if they didn't have anything nice to say, then don't say anything at all. Probably so, but they choose to ignore it. That's ok, 'cause I do to.

Finally home. Home sweet home? Yeah right, that will be the day! Uh-oh! Here comes a angry lookin' gang-banger, hand on his gat and all that. Gotta watch my step now. He's comin' up the steps and sittin' on my stoop. I start to go in, don't want no trouble. "Hey! Wait a minute!" he shouts to somebody. Oh, is he talking to me? Slowly I turn around. Don't want a bullet in my back. He starts talkin' again: "Just want to know how you doin'."

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