Recently, a friend joined me for lunch at Dunkin Donuts. While eating, a homeless man approached my friend and I, and insisted that it was our duty, as African Americans, to buy him something to eat. He said, “we were black and black people need to stick together.”
And so I did. Not necessarily because we shared the same skin tone, but because I was tremendously uncomfortable with his approach and how close he was to our table. My decision to buy him something was a way of removing myself from this discomfort.
At the register, I was surprised at how I mentally debated which donut he would most enjoy. Thoughts such as, “he may not like frosting,” caused me to disregard the ones that had frosting. Thoughts like, “…he may not like fillings either,” caused me to decide on a glazed donut.
As I walked towards the seemingly starving man who sat inches away from my table, an overwhelming feeling of satisfaction for my good deed was expressed through my face. With a smile, I handed him the bag that held the glazed donut, and proceeded to sit next to my friend who gave me a nod for my considerate deed.
No sooner did I sit down, did the homeless man howl with anger, âÂÂI said I was hungry and you buy me a DAMN donut?!â Everyone in the restaurant stood motionless as the man scolded me for buying him a donut. I was as stiff as the face of my friend, who I knew wanted so desperately to leave the restaurant.
The man demanded that I get my money back, and as his voice began to reach a demonic high, I envisioned him ending my life right then and there, in the Dunkin Donuts.
Luckily, there was a moment when the man turned around, which gave both my friend and I enough time to run out the restaurant. We continued running for several blocks, before stopping to comprehend what exactly just happened.
I apparently brought a homeless man a donut, and was nearly attacked because it wasnâÂÂt what he expected. This was beyond funny to the both of us. We both looked just as crazy as the homeless man, as we laughed on the crowded sidewalk. However, despite our laughter, we couldn’tâÂÂt help but take continuous glances over our shoulders to reassure ourselves that we some how, some way, were able to escape the hostility of a mentally distraught man.