The Soldier and the Fox

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  If I am not part of the solution I am part of the problem.

 The first pride was a riot led by a black trans woman.  I thought as I walked with the massive crowd of protesters. Yelling at the top of my lungs: "No justice! No peace!" repeating it over and over again, the mantra resonating throughout the crowd.

 The day had been going very well! And here at the end of this day of peaceful protesting we had ended up at the place that needed to hear our outrage of the unjust and unfair treatment of people of color in America the most: The White House.

 I raise my sign higher trying to make the bold lettering on my rainbow painted cardboard more clear. 

"BLACK LIVES MATTER!" I yell, wanting the police to hear as well as see what they can't seem to comprehend. The girl next to me picks up my chant and soon the whole crowd is joining in with me. Filling me with a sense of unity and hope.

 BANG.

 The loud sound closely being followed by screaming shattered the hope of finally getting our voices heard. Knowing that these police officers don't give a damn about the people they are supposed to be protecting filling me with rage and fear for everyone around me. 

 I look at the officers in full riot gear charging at us and turn to the girl next to me in fear, knowing that the cops will go after her first because of the beautiful color skin she was born with. Seeing the fear reflected in her face I make a choice that, although might get me hurt, I just know will save her life.

 "Run!" I shout at her. "And don't look back!" 

 Recalling all the hours of self defense classes I thought I would only have to use against homophobes and assholes, I duck under the fist thrown at my face. 

 If you were to ask me later what exactly happened from that point up until when they decided to use teargas on civilians, I couldn't tell you. But I can tell you that I had applied my knowledge of how to throw a physically larger male, to the ground, very productively. 

 I some how ended up in the front of the crowd despite being smaller and less intimidating than my fellow protesters. Especially the unbelievably tall man to the right of me dressed head to toe in black protective gear. Looking as if he was a special operations soldier from an apocalypse move. I notice him pulling on large thick yellow gloves with vigor.

 What are those for? I think. His hands are huge... His hand could probably cover my whole face while he's -

 I hear a large popping sound. Braking the sudden pause in the cops assault. (As well as my not so Innocent observations of the man next to me.) I turn to the police and see smoke. 

 They're teargassing us! I think. I freeze, unable to believe the audacity of these cops using biological weapons, that have been outlawed in the use of war by the Geneva convention, on American citizens. 

 Movement to my right prompts me to look the tall "spec ops" man. He moves so fluidly as he picks up the canister of teargas and throws it back as the cops. That it sends my thoughts back to my earlier appreciationof his physique.

 Goddamn. That's hot. He could hold me up against a wall effortlessly. Or he-

 Pain exploding on my left arm forcibly pulls me from my inappropriate thought about the man in spec ops gear and back to the riot.

 I scramble to think of what to do next when I remember a video I saw, a while back, of protesters in Hong Kong covering teargas canisters with construction cones. Looking around I see a stack of them by a building to my right. My heart pounding a frantic tempo in my chest as I speed towards the cones. As I grab one and turn I see a canister on the ground, spewing out toxic smoke. I launch myself at it and cover the canister with my impromptu weapon of choice. I then move the cone, pick up the canister, and throw it back towards the police. Fortunately missing the spec ops guy by half a foot. Unfortunately getting his attention and probably his disapproval. He steps away from the fencing and back towards me as more canisters are thrown. Another one lands close to me and I rush to cover it to reduce the smoke. 

 "I got it!" the Man yelled to me. Surprising me slightly with the unexpected demand. I moved the cone for him to grab the canister. He picked it up and threw it at the police, landing further and in a larger group of police than my canister did.

 "You get them, I'll throw them!" He ordered me, patting me in the center of my chest. prompting me to move towards another canister on the ground that is releasing the toxic fumes.

It felt like hours, but was probably only minutes. And when the street had cleared of most protesters I look around, in search of anyone who needed help.

 "You! Get out of here!" Came another order from my, very hot, impromptu riot buddy. 

 I hesitated. Not wanting to leave him to the cops.

 "Go!" He shouted, grabbing my shoulder and turning me away from the approaching line of police.

 I ran.

 I don't know how I got home. It was all a blur of hitching rides with kind strangers and avoiding police. But I do remember that night.

 I remember bandaging my wounds from an afternoon, evening, and night of standing up for my fellow human beings against those who would shun, hurt, and even kill others simply for the color of their skin. 

 I remember thinking of the man that was by my side though the most intense moments of conflict. Thinking of the man who let me fight against the injustice with him instead of shunning me for almost hitting him with a teargas canister.

  I remember thinking of how tall he was. Thinking how big his hands were and how easily he was able to manhandle me in to running to safety...

 And if that night as I lay in bed, coming down from the intense adrenaline rush, started thinking a little too much about what the man in spec ops gear's hand on me felt like. Well, he'll never know. And besides I probably won't ever see him again...

-Fox