Trigger Warning: This story is purely fiction.

I’d never stepped a foot in the Bronx until this morning; I’d never even been to Harlem before, since there was no need to do that. However, today, I was forced to leave the comforts of my Chelsea apartment and visit my trashy cousins for long 2 hours. You can probably tell that my parents bribed me to do this; what, I wanted a week in Cabo!

Anyway, I took the family towncar to my cousin’s apartment in the Bronx, but since my little brother had to use it, I had to take the filthy subway back! The audacity my parents had to make me take the D train all the way back to Chelsea! I wanted to scream, but I was able to hold myself together.

I then made it to the door of my relatives, and was let in before I could knock. My cousins warmly welcomed me in, asking me how I was and what I was studying at NYU. They told me about how they worked all summer, and commuted to Fordham at Rose Hill everyday; I informed them about looking at business internships abroad, like the one I did during the summer last year. Even though they said that they couldn’t afford it, I explained to them how there must be programs that offer some scholarships.

After 2 hours of being with my cousins, I headed towards the subway. I took out my platinum credit card and paid for a single rider ticket. But there were some poorer dressed people around me, so I held onto my purse tightly. I then grabbed my ticket and swiped my way through the gates, and waited for my train. That’s when I saw him. He was tall, wearing a gray hoodie with dark blue jeans and nike shoes, and at one point stared at me. I walked to the opposite of the platform, I swear it wasn’t him being Black that scared me away.

A couple of minutes later the subway arrived, and I got on the downtown D train. However, the same man got on the same subway car as me, and was only about 10 feet away from me. He was looking at the subway map next to him, but I felt the sides of his eyes watching me. In fact, there were people similar to his appearance on the train. I looked around in anxiousness, noticing that for the first time, I was the minority. Needless to say I felt very uncomfortable.

Two stops later a tall guy stepped onto the subway car, wearing a suit and Michael Kors shoes! When we locked eyes, he waved and sat down next to me. It turns out he was on winter break as well, and went to the University of Oxford in the UK; he even had a slight British accent. As we discussed and debated things such as the economy and Brexit, I finally felt not alone on the train, since one person of my kind was sitting right next to me.

It turns out that we both, funnily enough, would be getting off at the right stop in the Chelsea area. However I noticed that as we got closer and closer to Manhattan, I slowly became part of the majority, and the man in the gray hoodie became the minority once again. It felt right again, but for the first time, I felt ashamed.

Number one, why is it that I felt uncomfortable in the Bronx around people darker than me, but became more comfortable when more people like me got on the train? And second, why do people like me live in Manhattan, while people like the man in the gray hoodie lived farther north. I thought about this more until I heard my stop “23rd street” would be next.

As I stood up to get ready to get off the train, both the man in the gray hoodie and the Oxford man got up at the same time. I still, as though by instinct, paid more attention to the man in the gray hoodie instead of my Oxford friend. As I was about to step off the platform, I felt my Coach purse yanked out of my hand. I looked to my left and right, seeing both men running in opposite directions.

I followed the man in the gray hoodie, screaming out “robber” multiple times in anger, until a police officer stopped him. When I caught up to them, I saw nothing in the man’s hands. I asked him where my purse was, but he said “I don’t know but you’re making me late. I’m walking my daughter home from school today!”. The officer then turned to me, rolling his eyes and walked off. The man stayed and said to me “How dare you miss accuse me, then run after me 3 blocks screaming about a purse that I didn’t take. How were you not suspicious of the fancy guy you were talking to, the one who spoke in a fake British accent, wore those fake Michael Kors shoes, and coincidentally said he would be getting off at the same stop as you. Why didn’t you look at him. Why me?”. He then walked away and crossed the street.

I stood alone for some moments, I can’t remember for how long, thinking about what happened, what I did. I didn’t even think about what was in my purse until later when my mother drilled me about talking to strangers. I just stood in shock, about what I did. I always proclaimed myself to be one of those people who didn’t see color or race. But, I guess I’m not. I then walked home in silence, but I was not alone since shame and guilt accompanied me along the way.