November 14th 2024.
As I stepped onto the train, I couldn't help but feel a sense of excitement. It was a beautiful late summer day in August and I was looking forward to meeting my colleagues for lunch in central London. I had spent the morning working from home and now I was ready for a change of scenery.
But as I made my way towards the escalator, I heard a voice behind me say, "Excuse me." I turned to see a short man, probably in his late 30s, approaching me from my left side. I couldn't understand what he was saying, but his aggressive demeanor made it clear that it was something unpleasant.
I tried to brush it off and continue on my way, but the man wouldn't let me go. He kept pace with me and began shouting in a louder voice with an even more menacing expression. It was then that I realized he was imitating an Asian language. I couldn't believe it. Another idiot spewing hateful and vulgar insults.
Feeling unsupported and alone, I wondered if this man had specifically learned these phrases just to harass Chinese people like myself. It was clear that he had no understanding of the language, with his terrible pronunciation and lack of knowledge about the complexities of Chinese. It made me wonder if he had also learned phrases from other East Asian languages, perhaps testing to see which one I would respond to.
I quickly ran through my options in my head, but I knew that engaging with this man would only give him the satisfaction he was seeking. So I bit my tongue and continued walking. But he followed me onto the same escalator, shouting more unintelligible insults and making hideous faces. Strangely, no one around us seemed to notice or care.
It was wrong, and I knew something needed to be done. As we reached the ground level, the man headed towards a railway platform. I immediately reported the incident to the staff at the ticket gate, hoping they could help. But I was told that I would have to chase him down the platform myself and find a staff member there.
I understand that they may have been short-staffed, but I couldn't help feeling unsupported and alone in this situation. It felt bizarre to have to chase down my attacker all by myself, but I knew I had to do something. When I finally identified the man to a female staff member, she politely asked him to come to the station office. But he responded with fake innocence, claiming to have autism.
The staff member explained that she couldn't force him to come with us, so we went to the station office instead. The supervisor expressed disbelief and anger at the situation. It was clear that this man had targeted people of Chinese or other East Asian ethnicities, rehearsing his assault and using it as a way to hide behind his supposed autism.
I was angry and disappointed that the perpetrator seemed to have gotten away with his actions so easily. I couldn't believe that in a city like London, where I had lived and worked for over a decade, something like this could happen. I had experienced unconscious bias before, but never anything like this.
Before leaving the station, I managed to take two pictures of the attacker on my phone, hoping to provide them to the police. That afternoon, I reported the case on the police website, but after seven days, I still hadn't heard anything. When I called for an update, I was told that my case number didn't even exist in the police system.
It was infuriating to think that this man had likely done this before and would probably do it again. It was a reminder that we still have a long way to go in terms of equality and understanding in our society. As I left the station, I couldn't shake off the feeling of disgust and disappointment. Despite the progress that has been made, there is still so much work to be done.
As I stepped onto the train, I couldn't help but feel excited to meet my colleagues for lunch in central London. It was a beautiful late summer day in August, and I had spent the morning working from home. Little did I know, my plans were about to take a disturbing turn.
As I made my way down the escalator, I heard a voice behind me say, "Excuse me." I turned to see a short Caucasian man, who appeared to be in his late 30s, standing to my left. He said something that I couldn't quite understand, but his aggressive look gave me a bad feeling. To make matters worse, he seemed to be imitating an Asian language.
I brushed it off and continued walking, but the man persisted. He kept pace with me and spoke in a louder voice, with an even more menacing expression. This time, I could make out what he was saying - a hateful and vulgar insult in Mandarin. The strange thing was, his pronunciation was terrible. It was clear that he had never actually learned the language, which only added to my confusion.
My thoughts raced as I tried to make sense of the situation. Had this man purposely learned these offensive phrases to harass Chinese people? I felt unsupported and alone, and it struck me that his previous words could have been in another East Asian language, as if he was testing to see which one I would respond to.
I considered my options, but I knew that if I shouted back, it would only give him the satisfaction of knowing that his attack had worked. He was not worthy of my engagement. So, I bit my tongue and continued on my way.
Unfortunately, we ended up on the same escalator, with one female passenger between us. As we ascended, he turned around and shouted more unintelligible insults, making a hideous face. What was even more disturbing was that no one around us seemed to notice or care. It felt wrong, and I couldn't help but think that this man should not be allowed to get away with his behavior.
Once we reached the ground level, he went down to a railway platform. I immediately reported the incident to the staff at the ticket gate, but I was told that I would have to chase him down the platform and find a staff member there. I understand that they may have been short-staffed, but I couldn't help but feel unsupported and alone in that moment.
I chased after the man and pointed him out to a female staff member, who politely invited him to come to the station office. His response shocked me - he claimed to have autism as if it excused his behavior. The staff member explained that she could not force him to come with us, and so she took me to the office instead.
As I explained what had happened, the supervisor expressed his disbelief and anger. It was clear that the man had targeted Chinese or other East Asian people, and he had prepared himself for this attack. It was a premeditated act of hate, solely based on my ethnicity.
After leaving the station, I couldn't shake the feeling of disgust. I had lived and worked in London for over a decade, and despite experiencing some unconscious bias, it had always been a safe and friendly place for me - until now. Before I left the platform, I managed to take two pictures of the attacker on my phone, which I planned to give to the police.
That afternoon, I reported the case on the police website, but after seven days, I had heard nothing. I called and asked for an update, only to be told that my case number didn't exist in the system. It angered me to think that this man had gotten away so easily, and it was even more infuriating to know that he had a script prepared, using autism as an excuse for his actions. My guess is that he has done this before and will do it again.
As I reflect on this experience, I can't help but feel a sense of sadness and betrayal. I had always felt safe and welcomed in London, but this one incident shattered that illusion. It's important for victims of hate crimes to know that they have support and resources available to them, such as contacting Victim Support, a charity that helps victims of crimes in England and Wales. No one should have to go through what I experienced.
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