Keeping my brother

I just read an article in Sunday's Washington Post, written by the young man (Allen Haywood) who was viciously beaten on the L'Enfant Plaza (Washington, DC) train platform a couple of weeks ago. I have to say, that the absence of venom or self-pity in his writing was ....... I don't even know how to describe it, except to say that I applaud him for being able to take the tack he did.

For me, the most alarming aspect of this story is the fact that those on the platform neither sought to help nor did anyone try to draw the station manager's attention to the fact that a fellow passenger was under attack. Had the victim been a part of the marauding group, I could possibly (maybe) understand the reluctance of passersby/witnesses to intervene, but he was clearly older than they and he was minding his own business reading when the attack began. I think it must have been pretty clear that he was not, in any way, an instigator or willing participant in the mayhem. So why the reluctance to intervene or even to call for help?

It's interesting to me that whereas in Arizona, people old and young, jumped a troubled young man with a gun, in DC, people, old and young, simply looked away or better yet, shot video which they then uploaded to YouTube. How can we think it appropriate to record but not react/respond? Do we not think enough of each other to take the risk and call the station manager? That's a pretty sad state of affairs.

I keep asking myself when it became more important to watch than to do? I wasn't there of course, but as someone who did once famously stop a train because a lady getting off with a toddler and a baby left her handbag behind, I'm giving myself leave to speak. I dashed off the train (OK so I'm a little impulsive), instructing (yeah, I'm a little bold too) the lady nearest to me to watch my stuff while I chased after the departing lady. Between shouting at the lady to stop and tossing a couple of words to the train operator to wait for me, I must have looked like a nutcase. It wasn't the first time (that I looked like a nutcase) and it probably won't be the last. [In case you were interested, the operator did wait; the lady and her babies got the handbag, and I got to work on time. I also got a little extra cardio in that morning too. Happy ending all around.]

I say all that to say this: as I said in my piece on Ted Williams, we have to be in the world to change it. We can't just watch and shake our heads, tut-tutting at how things have got so bad. We have to be in it. What's the point of the empty voyeurism? Wouldn't we rather be known for having done something, than gain temporary notoriety for having stood by and watched, in this case, while a man was pretty badly beaten? I dunno. I figure the worst that can happen is that we might have to tell folk, "Look, if it was me, I would hope somebody would have done the same." Maybe, like me, you'll help someone and no one will know but who cares? I'm in it. It's also why I write my meanderings. My writing, even if it's only read by you and me, is me putting it out there. You have to be in it to win it, so come on and get in the game.

We are our brothers' keeper. What a shame Mr. Haywood had no brothers on the platform.

Full article by the assault victim available here: Why my metro assault is a problem