County Sheriffs-Personal Narrative

I was a clueless nineteen-year-old headed home from college in Pasadena via Metro. I always enjoyed my ride to and from school. However, since I wake up at five in the morning, six times a week, eight hours a day, to make ends meet, I’m too exhausted to enjoy the scenery. Nevertheless, going home via Metro gold line, was a sanctuary for me. One day while standing by the station platform, I see something shiny between the train track rails. The glimmering object was an emerald-colored stone the size of a quarter. As a kid, I collected different colored rocks and still had an affinity for collecting them. I approached the collectible rock and as I get closer, I hear “hey stupid.” I turned to see three L.A. County Sheriffs glaring at me. “Are you brain

“You dumb? Are your eyes that slanted to see that sign? Just in case you don’t know how to read English, it says ‘no going to train tracks’.” I was speechless. I have never heard such harsh racist remarks towards me. My friends teased me as a kid, but I understood that it was a joke, it was light, and we were kids. The sheriff, however, was serious. He continued to berate me, challenge my manhood, and insult my culture. “He won’t do anything, he’s Asian” he said to his companions. They laughed and encouraged the offender as I stood there holding tears of anger back. He continued to use racist remarks and use expletives to describe me then dares me to attack him. I stood there, humiliated and angry in front of a handful of people watching from the platform. In a moment of vulnerability, I wanted to punch him. Growing up, my father trained me to box and continued for years. But if boxing taught me anything, violence is never an answer outside the ring. However, I was in his “ring,” and won. As he dared me to attack, I smiled and told him he was absolutely correct and I would take a ticket for my recklessness. Surprised, he let me walk away and labeled me