by Chun Yu
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“Give it back to me!” I dragged the mugger and his bike To the ground in a split second Demanding firmly the return of The device, an extension of my life Snatched out of my hand from behind. I was the last in a small crowd dashing For an early evening downtown bus Already shutting its door, pulling Away from two blurry figures Clashing on a late winter street Beaten by cold rains and littered with Random trash and nameless shadows. “What are you doing?!” The mugger yelled at me In disbelief of a muggee Fighting for what was taken His young eyes big and wide Incredulous in black and white Strong hand gripping my iPhone Between our faces so close and Have and have not newly switched Veins popping and blood seething In mutual desperation. “I will give it back to you!” He even yielded for a second Under my unwavering stare As my mind raced for the next move But yanked away from my grip With a force, sudden and resolute And fled on his bike with His prey and prize of the day. I leaped up and chased after him Like a sudden superwoman In hope to right the wrong (No runner or athlete I had no idea where she came from.) As far as I could on the darkening street Soulless, helpless, and unnegotiable Where he was lost, a fleeing shadow So young and fit, full of Heartbreaking and broken promises Where I was lost, dragging my own shadow Slight, alone, hands and heart emptied A knee skinned raw. “Don’t do that!” My family and friends Shocked and worried sick Cried out in alarm, in synchrony On two sides of the ocean Hearing about my fierce fight Fraught with danger But keeping it from my parents Too ill and frail to be informed Having just pulled through Covid In their old ages, amidst dangers Micro and viral, macro and epic. “Don’t do that!” I told myself that too, after: Being petite at five foot three Size extra small in America Where weapons are legal and lethal Deadly and deafening… How I never learned Kung Fu From Grandpa, who, having survived Wars and revolutions, only wanted His first granddaughter to focus On school to become a scholar Or better, a straight minded scientist Safe, sensible, and disentangled from The madness and messiness of the world… But there was no time To reason, not even with myself For the do and do not Being attacked and in defense Being human, ancient and new. After filing the police report I couldn’t help but point out that The corner, where I was mugged In our beautiful City by the Bay Beloved by the world And us, with aching pride Was dimly lit, and perhaps Could be brightened, for safety And for the sake of us all. The officer, chill and seasoned By the cold winds and fog Blowing and billowing On our golden high hills and Through our dark low alleys Summed it up, loud and clear Almost with a laugh: “This is the United States. Nowhere is safe!” I cleaned the blood off My injured knee Brought to the dim ground Where we are all fallen. I covered it with soft gauze Which I wish I could apply To the open wounds We all carry And prayed for the dawn When we wake up To find our way To stand up As one.
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Author’s note: My poem is based on my experience of being mugged recently for my iPhone, much like these recent victims in the news reported by ABC News: San Francisco women targeted by teens in violent cellphone robbery spree. The incident took place at a bus station in downtown San Francisco back in March. As a petite Asian woman of 5'3", I may have appeared to be an easy target based on assumptions. However, to the mugger's surprise, I managed to tackle him to the ground with his bike and engaged in a brief exchange, during which he almost returned my phone. Unfortunately, he ultimately managed to escape with it. Writing this poem has been a profound process which allows me to reflect on the stories behind the incident from all sides, find healing and peace of mind as a victim while seeking possible solutions in the city I have chosen as my home, and which I deeply love, as a first-generation immigrant, a scientist turned bilingual poet, and a community connector.
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Chun Yu, Ph.D., is an award-winning bilingual (English and Chinese) poet, graphic novelist, artist, scientist, and translator. She is the author of the memoir in verse Little Green: Growing Up During the Chinese Cultural Revolution (Simon & Schuster). She is a Library Laureate 2023 of San Francisco Public Library and an awardee of YBCA 100 (2020). Her work is taught in world culture and history classes.
Good for you, to see all sides. I am with you in fighting back. Wish my husband and I had in Naples when our phone was seized in an aerial leap by the perp -- we had to admire him -- but I don't think we'd have succeeded, even as much as petite you did. I love your simple, clean language to describe the entire incident from start through revelations to resolution. Well done.