Oliver is in his late twenties and works in home technologies. His family is from Jamaica and he grew up in Baltimore. Oliver is an experienced combat athlete with excellent mechanical recall. His cousin Tey was an elite boxer who I had the pleasure of training with on a few occasions.
The way I felt about the police after that incident Taking Out The Trash had to do with a previous situation when three or four people were trying to beat the hell out of me. I actually filed a report at the police station so had to repeat it ten or more times and should be able to recall it easily.
As a kid growing up in Baltimore, I had a ton of fights. I had a very good friend from Connecticut who once told me that I should get away from Baltimore and meet some real people. So I have spent a few years out of state. I know a ton of good people. When I came back, I realized how right she was. If you meet one girl in Baltimore you’ve met fifty. If you meet one dude in Baltimore you’ve met fifty just like him. You have no diversity in the Black Community in Baltimore. It’s completely cyclical. You can’t solve a problem unless you get at the root and everybody just uses labels. I’m convinced that ninety percent of black people do not know what that [n-]word means—what its purpose was—and they use it constantly.
It is not a racial problem but a behavioral problem. If some lady is walking down the street and sees an African dude in his traditional garb she doesn’t tighten the grip on her purse. But if she sees the same dude dressed in a long T with a gold grill [teeth] she’s diving for cover. Why so many people want to box themselves into that threatening stereotype is mind boggling.
I resent it. My dog was stolen so I called the police. They show up and treat me like the criminal. I could tell by the way they looked at each other that they did not even believe a black dude actually lived in that area. They made me show them my key, and questioned me as if I had stolen my own dog. And the funny thing was it was a black cop and a Hispanic lady cop. I can understand it though. These cops get called to this black on black violence all over the city. It’s not white people doing all of this stupid shit down on Monument Street, its blacks. So they adopt this prejudicial attitude—and I have done the same thing.
That is how we got into this situation, trying to avoid black people doing stupid shit. Our usual thing was to go to the Iguana Cantina. But there was always stupid stuff [fights over stepping on shoes for instance] going on there, so I was like, "no."
We headed out to Towson, went to the movies, to see Media Goes to Jail. Basically the whole point of us going out to Towson was to avoid black people doing stupid shit. All of us were black, except the one mulatto—can I say that? We still counted him as black [laughs].
It was my cousin Tey, Nate, Ron, Slick, and me. The movie let out around eleven-twelve [at night]. We were walking down Chesapeake to the car. I was the designated driver. At York and Pennsylvania they had just opened a bar and all these people were standing in line. Tey looks down when he walks. So he looks up at this one dude, and the dude is like, "You good?"
Tey is tall and a little arrogant so I stepped in, "We good," and he relaxed. As soon as we continue some dude that we did not even see just came out and started throwing punches. I stepped back, threw a [straight] right and he was done—out, on the floor.
Author query: Now these were all rednecks with cowboy boots right?
laughter
Okay, so it was a bunch of Amish guys right?
more laughter
Oliver: Maybe so if they stayed out in the sun too long—of course they were black.
Now, with no exaggeration, literally twenty people came pouring out of the club. Ron got hit and he was out. Three came around Tey and he just fended them off with jabs. Nate just ran—don’t even get me started about Nate—and hid behind a car.
Slick is maybe five-one, real muscular. Five are on him and he tries to punch with his short arms but isn’t reaching anybody. He ends up on the floor and their dragging him and kicking him. Him being dragged probably saved his head, causing the kicks to miss.
I’ve got four on me, same as with Tey, a semi-circle trying to get at me. They must have seen me drop the one guy because they were keeping their distance and trying to get around. They would kind of step, half commit, step out. I started to pop in and out with the jab, not wanting to get sucked into a stomping. I had this hat on that was bothering me. I threw that away. I really wished I had not been wearing that hoody. That hoody was screwing me up—wish I had not had it on.
Author query: Please tell me you had a pack of skittles from the movie in the pocket of the hoody.
Oliver: No skittles, no ice tea, just this damn hoody screwing me up.
The guy in front of me, the same guy that started with Tey, was reaching for a pocket. I figured I’d rather get kicked or stomped than shot or stabbed so I shot in and suplexed him—the easiest takedown I ever got. I was not good at Judo, had no throws to speak of—but tossed this guy and came down on top of him. I really wanted to elbow him, to let him know I could, but was concerned about getting kicked to the head. So I tucked my head in next to his and held him tight while he pot-shotted me [makes pity-pat motion to the body].
Now the kicks come—ten fifteen hits to the back, neck, back of head. I was mainly worried about getting hit in the temple. Next thing I know someone is pulling my arm around behind my back. I’m thinkin’ ‘Now who does that?’ ‘Cops do that!’
There was no siren, no identification, not even an order. They just worked me over with the baton when I was not even hitting this dude, just holding him. He’s hitting me. I look back and its this Hispanic cop telling me to put my hands behind my back. I said, "I will if you can control him."
He zip-tied me first as I’m putting my hands behind my back and I get sprayed with mace. Then I’m sitting on the curb, eyes burning, nose burning—hair burning, can’t see. My friend’s mother was in the club and came out and saw me there. Tey was trying to talk to the cops while they put me in the paddy wagon but they weren’t havin’ it, made him back off and threatened to take him in. Now I’m in the paddy wagon with two of the attackers—nobody else is taken in. I was bothered by how unprofessional the cops were, just attacking me without even identifying themselves. I was obviously defending myself.
Really, the only thing that angered me the entire night was sitting in the wagon while they drove us around to the precinct, which was like two blocks away, and this one cop is saying to the other, "That new industrial strength pepper spray really works!"
The police had to help us wash our face. We stayed tied all night. I was in the cell with the dude who started it, who I suplexed. He was cool, wanted to talk me into saying it was no big thing, a misunderstanding. I was interviewed and released about six on Saturday morning and took the Eight [bus] home.
I had a court date. My lawyer was Robert Griffin. He charged six hundred and had it worked out before we even stepped in the courtroom. I was charged with Disturbing the Peace, Assault, and some other charge. They had records and I didn’t, so my charges were thrown out. They were twenty-four years old, about my age at the time.
I filed a complaint that the officers did not identify themselves and went right to the baton. I have a kink in my back to this day, bothers me sometimes when I clinch—about a dozen hits. They were workin’ it. Lucky for me they don’t know how to use a stick.
I kind of understand that this mentality to just rush in and hit rather than assess the situation for what it is, was the same mentality that kept me in Towson: that black equals bad. On one hand we have to avoid all of that stupid shit. But on the other hand, when you get away from it, you end up having to deal with this reactionary mentality that you’re bad because you’re black.
I honestly see no sense in ever calling on the police since they are so conditioned that I am the enemy. Then you get people on FaceBook—which is something that makes me question freedom of speech sometimes—saying that they are going to go kill this guy in Florida because a jury down there found him innocent. When you go there then you just reinforce the stereotypes arrayed against you. Getting out from under hundreds of years of animosity is not a simple thing, and being stupid, and doing stupid shit doesn’t help. Like voting for a presidential candidate just because he’s black. Where is that going to get you? When you see [people] fleeing to China over freedom of speech you need to wake up and think.
Dawn in Dindustan
Conducting the Moral Autopsy 0f a Nation
Very interesting post. The white Left undermines people like Tey by telling black people they should act like angry victims. The cops get so used to arresting black people they lump the good in with the bad. It really is eye-opening how limiting black skin can be thanks to the Left creating a crime-ridden black underclass and blacks attacking one-another. Now they're doing the same with Latin Americans and poor whites.
It's not necessary to read Louis Farrakhan to realize that black victimhood has been promoted as part of a much larger struggle between Jews and whites. Exculpating blacks for antisocial behavior or hiding its extent helps to instill in whites a profound sense of guilt for sins of the past and a reluctance to defend their own (legitimate) group interests.
I don't blame blacks collectively for they are both the biggest instigators of violence and its biggest victims, but rather the elites that have exacerbated the (natural) racial tensions and forced integration.
Stereotypes are unavoidable as long as identifiable groups exist. Dunbar's number, and all that.