This past weekend I found myself in the ever precarious situation of theory-application. It is well and good to believe something, and to even believe that the individual given the chance would do the right thing, but it isn’t always the reality. I find that when the opportunity arises for me, I’m always less prepared than I expect I would have been.

While in Los Angeles, I decided to take the bus to save money. That monstrosity of a city is miles and miles long and to take a taxi from one section climbs the price chart quickly. Unfortunately, it also means taking one bus anywhere is nearly impossible.

While switching from one bus to the next, feeling confused, lost, and tired in the heat, I stood against a pole and leaned. I chose not to sit on the bench because a drunk man I presumed was homeless sat there drinking and I felt like it would cause me discomfort and unwanted distraction. (Well that’s what I told myself. In reality? He smelled unbecoming and I didn’t want it to rub off on me before I went to meet the “important” people I was meeting).

While staring forward fighting myself in my mind over my bias and if it was right or wrong, I heard a verbal altercation begin. It seems that gentleman drinking at noon on the bench had attempted to touch some woman. I didn’t know where the touch occurred or how but she was displeased and that made it inappropriate.

“You can say hi, but you don’t need to touch my arm to do it!” She said quite aggressively to him.

“Whatever, you a man!” He replied quite defensively, with full intent to antagonize. I could see his smile creep along the corners of his mouth. This was smug satisfaction for him, it was like watching the children I worked with at an after-school program during my university days.

“I’m a woman thank you very much. All woman, 100% woman and you’ll never know.” Her voice was nearly breaking between the anger and damaged pride. “And you’ll never know so sit down and drink your damn whiskey. On a Sunday morning even.”

And I’m standing watching this thinking, “So this is LA on a Sunday morning.” But I’m also standing aside. I’m watching, and I’m not even recognizing that I’m allowing this incident to go on without even a bother of spirit.

Then the expletives began. His use of language, albeit quite limited, was limited to words and phrases to belittle, antagonize, and hurt her. It wasn’t defensive, he wasn’t attempting to save face or protect himself, the attacks were purely for the joy of antagonizing. She, unknowingly, fed right into his entrails.

I finally did something once he stood and advanced, trying to touch her again. But by then I couldn’t help ask myself why I waited so long. I stood between them and raised my hands upwards and to the side of my head, “Please sir. Stop harassing the lady. I don’t care if you sit down or stand but I think everyone at this stop would appreciate if you two just separated.”

He yelled in my face, “What did you say?” And as my blood began to rise I realized he had headphones in his hear blaring so loudly he had heard nothing she had said, nothing I had said, and nothing anyone else could have said. I motioned for him to remove his headphones, and once he did repeated myself.

“Expletive you man. I’ll beat yo ass. You hear me! Don’t tell me what I can and cannot do or what I can and cannot say.” He was furious. I realized that he had taken offense. He also reiterated that she was a man, when I said “the lady doesn’t appreciate your words.” I told him he could think whatever he wanted but it was inappropriate to say it if she said she was offended.

Also, recognizing he was upset with me now, I assured him, “I believe you could beat my ass sir. I don’t doubt it and I don’t want it. Please, let us all just separate and remove ourselves from this situation.” Then without allowing him to reject the proposal I turned to the woman,

“that goes for you too. Please, I understand he’s saying untrue things about you that are hurtful and inappropriate but if you stand on the other side of where I was standing we can all wait for the bus in peace. His words are not personal, he doesn’t know you and he’s been drinking”

The whole time I spoke the man kept saying repeatedly, “Whatever! She’s a expletive man, man. She’s a man!” And he kept saying it, over and over and over and over. I was getting upset and couldn’t imagine how she felt.

She moved away and her and I spoke with our backs to him, disregarding and ignoring his shouts from his bench. I pulled her away from there because he had his earthly possessions stacked over there and I assumed he would fear leaving them to continue this game, fortunately I was right.

She calmed down, we spoke about what happened and I assured her that I didn’t think she looked like a man. It was really a matter of pride, once we got down to it, but could have easily escalated into a violent interaction, especially since the man proclaimed he could hit her as she was not a she but a he, thus not inhibiting his moral paradigm of acceptable violence within gender.

Then the most fascinating part of the experience happened. They both left, and a man walked up to me and said “I would have done something but I saw that man had a 6 inch hunting knife on him.”

I looked the man in the eyes and said, “If I knew that, I wouldn’t have waited so long to help.”

He said, “But you could have been stabbed!” And I replied, quite confused by his responses, “First of all I would rather take my chances than stand idly by while someone else gets her, and second of all I had less chance being an emotionally disconnected outsider of continuing the escalation than either of them did. There was less chance I’d get stabbed than she would and it’s a risk I’ll always take.”

He said to me, “That’s stupid.” I said, “Maybe. But it’s also how I believe to exist.”

I want to be clear, my recounting of this incident is not about pride or arrogance. I am not bragging. It was not something I did for heroics, and in fact I am ashamed it took me so long to get involved considering the classes and trainings I have been through. It isn’t for everyone, there is serious personal risk involved, but why I recount this story is because it is a way to do something which can inhibit violence and foster nonviolence.

My ultimate hope is that the people watching and involved learned something about conflict transformation so they can avoid conflict themselves or diffuse it when they see it. I know I learned that I can diffuse a situation by simply speaking calmly, rationally, and asking for the easy removal of the catalyst (in this case the space and continued conversation between them). It just takes the guts to start trying.