From Huffington Post: http://www.huffingtonpost.com/richie-covington/i-was-attacked-for-being-gay_b_2534488.html?utm_hp_ref=gay-voices
Richie Covington
01/23/2013
I don’t have a car, so I was walking to the store to get some groceries for my mother, whom I help take care of. She has a bad heart condition and is in hospice care. I had to walk by a gas station on my way. When I was walking by, a man yelled something at me; I believe he didn’t realize at first that I was a guy. When I turned and spoke back to him, he apparently realized I was a guy and said something like, “Oh, my God, you’re a faggot!”
I usually ignore people when they say things like that to me, but he caught me in an uncharacteristically bad mood that day, so I decided to defend myself. I said, “Damn right I’m a fag. What of it?” and kept going. I never stopped or even made eye contact. It’s my habit to ignore the fact that the offending person even exists when I’m in a situation like that. I feel that if you make eye contact with a person bullying you, acknowledging that you are being receptive to their taunts, it can make things worse. So I kept on moving and didn’t look back.
When I had left the parking lot and was about to turn the corner, I heard him yell from right behind me, “Hey, faggot!” Not really even thinking about it, I turned around, and he punched me in the stomach and knocked the wind out of me. When I doubled over, all of a sudden my vision went black, and I was seeing stars. He had punched me directly in the nose. I fell to the ground and felt him kick me before I passed out. I don’t think I was unconscious for very long; I think I just fainted. But it was long enough for him to take the $20 from my pocket and get back to the parking lot to leave. It all happened very fast; it was over in just a couple of minutes.
I was gushing blood, and I sat there for a good couple of minutes before I realized what had happened: A man had punched me in the face, and that’s why I was bleeding. I’d never been hit before. It was very scary and startling. At that point I put my scarf up to my nose and went back home, where I cleaned the blood off. My mom told me that I needed stitches and probably had a broken nose. I knew I needed to report it, but I felt that getting to the ER took precedence at the time. I called the hospital, and they said they’d call a police officer to file a report when I arrived at the ER.
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