During the last month, there have been 3 attacks in the Los Angeles area that have been either anti-gay or anti-Jew motivated. As a project for a class, I wrote a response from one victim, a 55-year-old West Hollywood man, to his assailant.

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I know why you do this. I frighten you. You are afraid you know me, that you may be like me, that someone you love may be like me. This frightens you. You don’t see me as someone who simply loves another person. You see me as someone who loves other men. That, to you, is wrong. You don’t have any logical reasons for this fear or this feeling that what I do is evil but you continue to hold onto these feelings because to let go is even scarier for you.

What would your friends think if you ignored me? What would they do to you if you actually stuck up for me? Would you be next? Would they attack you? Would they beat you senseless as you have done to me? Are you as afraid of your friends as I?ve become of you?

Do you understand what you’ve done? You can’t change who I am, whom I love. Are you even sure of whom I love? That doesn’t matter, though, does it? What matters is that I will not walk alone on MY streets anymore, thanks to you. I will constantly look over my shoulder even when with a group of friends or my partner. I will hear footsteps where there are none, see shadows where none exist. I will shake at the thought of having to venture out at night when my partner has a cold to get him something to help with his stuffy head. He will not know the fear I have but I will still have it.

You have transferred, shared your fear. You have passed it on. You are afraid of me and now I am afraid of you. You have seen to that. I do not fear you because you are different. I do not fear you because you define something I don’t understand. I fear you because you want to hurt me. I fear you because you stalked me and beat me.

I wonder how you’re feeling now. Can you believe that? I’m the one who has been hurt and I’m wondering how you’re feeling. I’m wondering if you feel regret, sick to your stomach, remorse over what you’ve done.
I wonder if you’ll do it again. I wonder if next time someone will end up dead because there won’t be a kind taxi driver who will stop and help out the next victim.
I wonder if you’ll be caught. I wonder if you want to be caught.

I wonder about justice and if there is any.

I wonder if life will ever go back to normal for me.

I wonder if you’re thinking of me.

I’m thinking of you.