When I was 12 years old I attended a predominately Black intermediate school in Brooklyn. There wasn’t one day in the two years I attended that school that I wasn’t stopped and asked for money by a tough-looking Black teen determined to intimidate me into surrendering whatever change I had. I quickly learned to carry little or no money to limit my losses.

Though I was never a fighter, more nerdy than confident, I decided when I finally got to high school that I wouldn’t let anyone bully me into giving them money. Not aware of my own prejudices, I was surprised that the first cocky teen who tried to shake me down for money was a white kid in a leather jacket who worked a bit too hard on appearing macho. I looked him straight in the eye and said, “Do I look like a bank?” “All I find all I keep?” he responded. I simply walked away and that was the end of the encounter.

On another occasion, I was asked for money while urinating in a men’s room at the school. “How about I just turn around and piss on your leg” I responded. The young Black man’s demeanor changed. He went from a menacing-threatening tone to laughing and exclaiming how cool I was. He insisted I slap him 5 when I was all done at the urinal.

It took some time for me to understand that the prejudices I brought to my interactions with both my white and black peers were determining our respective roles. The Black kids in my intermediate school knew all too well that the white kids didn’t trust them. We had minimal if any social contact with each other. We treated them as violent animals to be feared, not as equals to be respected. Bullying a meek white kid out of a few coins was no more about financial gain than rape is about love. Expressions of rage and resentment are no more innate than the prejudices that cripple our humanity.