The Power of Forgiveness

It was 12:37 a.m. as the bus pulled from the terminal at Bowling Green, Kentucky. The streets were silent and the night was cool. I'd gotten my sister on her way to Ft. Knox after a weekend visit. At this time, I wanted nothing more than to go back to the dorm and get some rest. I never thought that a trip to the bus station could be so dramatic, that I would face death because of others' prejudice. Later on, I would need to overcome the effects of that prejudice.

After giving my sister spending money, I couldn't afford to take a cab back to the dorm. So I decided to get a little exercise and run to the dorm, about four miles away. When I had gone about two blocks, I noticed a truck slowly following me. When I turned around to see who it was, the driver sped up, went to the next block, and turned right. After I'd run another couple blocks, I noticed the truck in front of me. A guy on the passenger side started yelling at me, "Hey, nigger." However, I continued running, pretending to ignore them.

Three blocks further on, they appeared again. This time, the driver had three other guys sitting in the back of the truck. "Nigger, we're going to kill you," they yelled as they threw cans and bottles at me. Trying not to show any fear, I continued my uphill journey to Western Kentucky University. By this time, I feared for my life and started praying silently to God. I knew that each step would bring me closer to a safe haven.

When the guys in the pickup turned left, I passed them by, and I didn't see or hear from them for three more blocks. However, as I approached the corner of the fourth block, they surprised me. Five white guys jumped from the corner and surrounded me. One guy wearing a University of Louisville baseball cap said to me, "Where're you going, Nigger?" and pushed me into a guy behind me. Then the guy wearing the U of L hat hit me in the stomach. As I folded over, another guy kicked me in the side. Immediately after that blow, another kicked me hard in the rear, and then blows came from everywhere.

As I fell to the sidewalk, I felt a stick break on my back. There were more kicks to my face and ribs and then, I felt nothing.

When I awakened, my mother was sitting beside my bed. When she saw me move my head, she simply said, "Thank God." It took me three weeks to get out of the hospital, and seven more to recover from four broken ribs, a broken collarbone and arm, fractured skull, and severely beaten face. Physically, I did recover.

As people came to see me, I felt the tension between the blacks and whites. Coincidentally, the police reported that I was "assaulted by five unknown assailants" and left it at that. They failed to investigate either the vehicle or the license plate number that a witness reported.

When I got better, I purchased a handgun and walked the street every night for at least a month. I didn't speak to, eat with, or associate with white people in any form or fashion. One night, as I was walking away from the bus stop, I saw the pickup. As I waited for the driver to come out of the convenience store, the anger and hatred rose within me. All the malice I've ever felt transferred to the index finger of my right hand on the trigger of my handgun.

When the guy came out of the store, I grabbed him from behind and pushed the gun in his side. I dragged him behind the building and put the gun to his throat. "Do you remember me?" I asked. "Uh ... yeah," he answered. "Before I blow your brains out, I want to know why you all did that to me that night." When this man started to cry and plead for his life, I felt immensely powerful, however, he said, "I really am sorry and I came to see you in the hospital. I'm the one who sent the card. Don't hate the whole white race for the mistakes of the few ...  I wrote that."

I remembered the card. As I looked at that man again, I saw the pain he had been carrying for four months. As I let up on the trigger, I looked at him and said, "I forgive you," and walked away. Then I took the bullets out of the gun and threw them to the ground.

As I walked up the hill to Western Kentucky University, each step gave me a new freedom. When I got to the top of the hill, I was a brand new man. I was not only free of malice and prejudice; I had become a man who could forgive the prejudice of others. I had decided that night to walk in a new power: the power of forgiveness.