by Chun Yu
“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.
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.
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.
