I Remember the Complete Humiliation
I started questioning the mainstream narrative about race in 1973, while attending a San Francisco Giants game at Candlestick Park with my Little League buddies. After a few innings, we all went to the bathroom and got cornered by a group of black boys in a stairwell. They singled me out, threatened me, and then stole my belt. Why my belt? Because it was cool! Black leather with silver eyelets up and down it, very fashionable at the time. I remember the complete humiliation I felt as one of the boys pulled my shirt up, unbuckled my belt with his filthy hands and slid it out of my waistband. My buddies ran off crying as I flagged down a security guard.
I was taken to a holding room somewhere in the bowels of the stadium and questioned for a half an hour or so. Then I had to just wait around until another security guard came back with a group of boys and asked if I could identify the one who took my belt. That part was easy, since he was still wearing it. As the black boys stared me down, I was released (with my belt) and ushered back to my seat. But the blacks were let out as well, without punishment. For the rest of the game, I hid behind the scoreboard and watched the gang search for me, aisle by aisle. It was a scary situation and I will never forget nor forgive them. If they had caught up to me, they surely would have beat the crap out of me.
Attempted Mugging in London Hyde Park
Not long after 9-11 in 2002 I was walking around the perimeter of Hyde Park in London, not far from Hyde park Mosque which I had passed previously and noted there were two Police Officers standing outside it guarding against revenge attacks for the Terrorist attack.
Mugged by Black Males and threatened with a stabbing in Brighton
In the early 2000s I was living in Brighton and walking home in the early hours one summer night walking through the South Laines down a pedestrianised Street in the City centre.
What a Japanese Teacher Learned at an American School
"Black males think they are entitled to all women"
I tried teaching American black children for three years. I am Japanese and was used to Japanese schools — the only American school I had ever been to before my teaching career was a university. For three years, I tried to make it work at my loathsome ghetto school. The last straw was when a black “fellow” teacher tried to rape me.
The Attack on My Daughter
"One of them dragged my daughter by her hair while the others punched and kicked her"
My oldest daughter and her five friends (every single one of them student athletes from good families) were staying at a condo in Seaside Park and went to the boardwalk for fried Oreos at 10:30 PM at night. They were maliciously and brutally attacked by a pack of vicious blacks. One of them dragged my daughter by her hair while the others punched and kicked her. Her friends, outnumbered and “out streeted” got much the same. All of them had their phones stolen. When the attackers were caught, we learned that all of them had criminal pasts and prior records.
