Okay, 1995 was a hell of a year in my life. I was a freshman in high school. During the day, was busting out honors-level classes, playing varsity sports, singing in musicals (drama club) and being a perfect student. At night, I was running the streets with my friends, getting into all kinds of grown-folk trouble. Among my friends from back home, ’95 is notorious for many reasons.
1995 was also the year I got punched in the face for the first time. Here’s how it all went down:
First let me say that I really had nothing to do with the beef in the first place. I was friends with a girl I’ll call Consuela. We were tight since 5th grade. Anyway, Consuela had this neighbor and for some reason, they didn’t like each other very much. Her neighbor was a grown man, by the way. I guess the animosity between them escalated and he wanted to go after Consuela. However, being a grown man he couldn’t really step to her himself. So he did what anybody in the hood would do – he called his female cousin. Now, I knew Consuela had some issues with her neighbor. We’ve had enough run ins with him whenever I was over there to visit. We didn’t know that he had sent smoke signals to the projects calling for troops.
So on that day in 1995, I was sitting on Consuela’s stoop like I’d usually do, shooting the shit with her and a guy from across the street. While chillin’, we saw this gang of big, rough looking chicks round the corner. I swear, I can see it in my mind’s eye right now. The neighbor came out on the porch and was all “yeah, now let’s see how much mouth you got,” directed at Consuela. I’m kind of looking around, not fully understanding what’s about to take place. In a strange move, Consuela goes into the house. Later on, I found out that she had gone into the house to call our homegirls as backup. If you’re following along, you know that I’m outside, alone, with an angry neighbor and a gaggle of shrek bitches.
So the neighbor points to me and says something like “That’s her friend.” The neighbor’s cousin (I forget her name now) stepped to me and I was standing at this point. I’m pretty sure they all rolled through to jump Consuela, and since she wasn’t out there they were going to settle for jumping me. I mean, they came to fight, so somebody was getting fought. Involved or not. I didn’t get jumped though. What prevented the group ass whooping was one chick I’ll call Tanya. Tanya’s mom and my mom were friends. I had chilled at Tanya’s crib and ate dinner with her. She didn’t know I’d be there and wasn’t down to jump me. I think she was able to convince the others to stall the jumping, but like I said, those heifers wanted to see a fight and there was no excuse not to have a one on one confrontation.
That being said, the big bitch hauled off and punched me in my face. Straight stole on me. I wasn’t really expecting it and, never having been cracked in the jaw before, had no reference point. Yo, in all honesty that shit threw me for a loop. I was like, “oh shit, this is really happening! I got punched in the face!” But after that initial shock, you kind of realize this is REAL and you better get to defending yourself. So I’m fighting this girl. Really, I cannot remember the fight itself. I mean, I was so pumped on adrenaline I think I was on auto-pilot. My number one goal was to not make it an easy win. Even if I “lost” the fight, I wasn’t going to go down easily. I do know that at some point while I was tussling with that gigantor broad, my other friends rolled through. So now there was a full on girl brawl in the middle of the street. Chicks on car hoods. Scratchin, punchin, hair pulling. Eventually, the police came through and broke it up, forcing us to retreat to Consuela’s apartment.
After the police were satisfied that they had calmed the situation and sent folks indoors, they bounced. We knew that didn’t mean it was over though. We still had to walk the streets. They might come back. Consuela lived with her mom and maybe they’d try some bullshit there. So we decided to leave the crib and walk the streets. Fam, we stayed up ALL NIGHT LONG, never slept. Roaming around the city, my one girlfriend with her usual razor tucked underneath her tongue, waiting to bump into them and finish it the right way, without interference from 5-O.
In the end, we didn’t run into them that night. Nor the next day. We’d see them alone, outside of our respective groups and no one would say anything or jump bad. I guess it was just a moment. Just a point to prove. That day was fight day. I mean, we didn’t have personal beef with each other. The chick was just responding to a call Consuela’s neighbor put out. It was done.
Sounds strange, but I value that experience. I think everyone should get their head spun at least once. It’s my firm belief that the reason people fight poorly is because they’re afraid to get hit. If you learn how to take a hit, you don’t let that deter you from getting up in your opponent’s face and handing out your own damage. Matter of fact, I think I should punch my sister in the face. She’s 18, so it’s okay. I mean, it’s a learning experience, right? JK (…).
12 responses to “Flashback: 1995”
ROFL@you wanting to punch your sister.
But let me get this right, you had a friend who kept a razor tucked underneath her tongue? Her tongue?!
@J. Dakar: Yep. under her tongue. could even flip it in her mouth and show you. Not a cut.
Gah, I miss her.
Only in Philly, lol!
@ Hydro: that actually took place in NY.
I was fittin to say that sounds like some NYC sh*t right there. At least your first punch to the face wasn’t to the nose. That’s where I got hit the first time I got punched in the face. I was leaking and crying (not crying out of pain though, just tears coming down my face), all the blood made dude not wanna fight me no more so he ran off. All of that b/c my little brother talk to much.
:( My bad.
I’m a national security risk.
LOL! You are funny. Please don’t punch your sister…
Why was I busting out laughing. That is real ghetto stuff right there.
BTW I punched a girl, by accident, and chipped her tooth. funny. That chick was cryin!
LOL this sounds better than west side story.
Razor under the tongue? gully. kid from my bldg used to do that.
Reminds me of Keith Murray in Erick Sermon’s Hostile video. best entrance ever.
on the real, i thank my godsister for beating my ass like every weekend. she would come over (to the east side) and spend the weekends with us (from the west side, i.e. very bad part of town) and every weekend we would get into some sort of squabble, and it would end in her whooping my ass terribly. one night though, one Sunday night we were getting ready to hit up the skating rink and we began arguing. the usual took place, she was winning, but then, all of a sudden, i pinned her down somehow, clocked her in the face, and proceeded to bite her right arm hard as shit. my mom broke up the fight, she still has the bite mark, and she never tried me from that day on. i agree, getting your ass whooped or getting your faced marked up is some kinda saving grace.
You are correct in your conclusion. I am only astonished at how late in life you seemed to learn this lesson; I think that if you grew up down south, you would have learned a lot sooner. Especially if you: light skinned, curly/straight hair, different tone/dialect, career goals, have a white shirt (lol), etc. It doesn’t take much for people to try you; people were just messy/haters. Carry on…