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.
The six victims were, and are, nice kids from the suburbs who, while certainly aware of what goes on in the world, were very ignorant of thug behavior, naïve about black culture, and in the end, quite sheltered. They are sweet, polite, and respectful.
There are three points I need to make. Hopefully, they will resonate with parents, kids, and anybody else who might learn from this incident.
First, many people stood by during the attack, recording it with their phones instead of helping. People have become media hounds, more interested in broadcasting on YouTube than helping their fellow man. Moreover, plenty of Americans want to hit “record” in hopes of capturing so-called “police brutality,” and don’t care about other types of injustice. Do not assume strangers will help you.
Second, nothing good can possibly come from being on the Seaside Boardwalk after 9 PM — I don’t care how many people you are with. It is not safe. It is dangerous. And I am not speaking from a sheltered, suburban point of view, but rather as the daughter of a Newark cop. I do not live in fear of everyday life, but understand that the Boardwalk is not “family friendly.” The gangs, drugs, and unsavory people far outnumber the good.
Third, the Seaside Heights Police Department means business. They are well-trained, alert, and came to my daughter’s aid in less than a minute. Unfortunately, it takes seconds for something to happen. Despite how prepared you may think you are, no amount of preparedness or self-defense training can fully ready you for encounters with street rats who know no boundaries. Learn from this lesson.
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.
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.
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.
My experiences with blacks began at an early age in Detroit’s public schools. Even in the 1960s, the city’s education system was already in decline. The ordeal that us white students had to go through was harrowing, to say the least. White students did not use the restrooms, as a “beatdown” by multiple blacks was usually the result (blacks never fought one-on-one). We always tried to be in clear view of school personnel at all times in order to avoid being attacked.