It would be fun I was told. Well of course it would be. I had been about as far South as El Paso Texas. So when Paul, a friend of mine, proposed I attend his cousins’ wedding with him in South Carolina, I was ecstatic. From the instant we drove into Charleston I was made aware that South Carolina differed quite a lot from good old Arizona. For starters, it was breathtakingly beautiful. I felt like I’d walked into a scene from Gone with the Wind. But more apparent was that of the lack of integration, to put it in my own words. The majority of laborers were black. All the employees at the hotel, short of the front desk, were black, and black women lined almost every street corner selling their beautiful hand woven baskets. But there was something not quite right about all of it, you could see it on their faces. The beautiful city boasted a mysterious air. It sent chills down my spine. Perhaps it was scarred with the anguish of the past, represented by the old slave market that still stands in the center of town, or perhaps the present, as the controversy over the flying of the confederate flag ran rampant. It was unfamiliar territory. But just how unfamiliar, I did not realize.

On our last evening in the mysterious city, Paul and I got into an argument and he left the hotel in a fit of anger. I wasn’t feeling well and had been curled up in bed but I knew I had to chase after him. So, out into the dark, cold, rainy streets of Charleston, I went, and at one in the morning no less. I remembered a park Paul had pointed out to me as being a favorite of his. I figured if I could only find the park, I would find him. I searched the empty streets convincing myself that it was only a bit further. But my exhausted memory failed me and my frantic search had led me to an area I did not recognize. I had not noticed how far outside of town I’d gotten. Then, all of the sudden, reality reached up and slapped me full in the face. Ahead of me, ghostly train tracks, the haunting glare of freeway entrance sign, and piercing eyes, met my gaze. I was staring at a bus stop full of homeless people, trying to shelter themselves from the rain. They were all black. And for the first time in a great while, I was terrified. I smiled politely at the curious group and crossed the street, ignoring their vicious remarks and harsh glances. My heart was pounding. And at that moment, I quietly said a prayer, asking for a guardian angel to watch over me.

Suddenly, to my horror a tall, thin black man strolled up next to me. I was petrified. He took a drag off of his cigarette and after eyeing me as though I were a piece of meat, he asked me if I was lost. The smell of stale beer lingered on his breath and I hesitated to tell him, what was it that he wanted? Why did he care? Was he just interested in taking advantage of me? I made a poor attempt to sound sure of myself and replied, "Kind of." He shot a sly smile in my direction and just said, "Figured." So now what? My mind was racing with anticipation of what I was sure was to come. Was he just passing the time until we passed a dark alley? What if…"Want some beer…" his crude question broke my downward spiraling thought process. Although it was probably better that it did, considering where it was leading. I politely declined and after realizing there wasn’t any hope of losing my new acquaintance I took a slow breath and tuned into his talking. Despite my nervousness, I found myself listening intently to him speak. He was actually quite interesting. Before I knew it we were holding a conversation, I had told him which hotel I was staying at and to my surprise he was guiding me back. As we walked we passed several more homeless men still out on the streets, and I noticed that all of them had left me alone due to his presence. At the end of our journey I realized how grateful I was and how terrible it had been of me to assume he had meant nothing but harm. He told me in parting that no matter how low he was in his life he knew that God was always watching over him. I then told him of my prayer for a guardian angel. And he smiled, just like an angel…

It was raining, but I didn’t mind. It’s a beautiful thing, rain is. . I sat on the sidewalk edge, half a cigarette dangling out of my mouth and a warm beer at my feet. Oh the irony. I suppose it was part of the facade. I watched the group of men across the street from me taking refuge from the storm under the awning of the bus stop. That’s when I saw her. The men were speaking to her and her reaction was that of a scared, lost puppy. Yet she managed a sweet, short smile. I could see the nervousness on her face and it echoed in her footsteps as she made a beeline for my side of the street. She hardly noticed me as she swept by, eyes focused dead ahead, as if wishing to simply disappear into the sidewalk on which she stood. It made me smile. She couldn’t possibly have her wish. She stuck out like a sore thumb. It must have been near 2 a.m., drizzling rain, and yet she there she was in shorts, sweatshirt, and flip-flops. Her evening jaunt had obviously been unexpected. She was walking by herself and looked frightened …a child in need. I slowly stood up and followed after her taking on the task at hand. I sauntered up beside her, and in reaction to her look of absolute horror, I attempted to calm her with pleasant conversation. She resisted, not at all seeming warm to my presence. It was all right though. We’re used to it. It goes with the territory. Finally, I felt as though I were getting through to her. I felt her discomfort ease and she confided in me that she was lost. So, I guided her in the right direction and upon my departure reminded her that God always watches over us. She looked up at me in surprise. It was then that she told me of her plea for a guardian angel. I smiled. What else could I do? After all, it wasn’t necessarily my doing; it is God who answers prayers…

What amazed me the most was that I walked the streets, which by day seemed so beautiful and full of character, but while alone and lost, seemed so dark and threatening. It was fear that changed my perceptions of my surroundings. And those fears have been engrained in me since I was little. As children, we were taught, not to talk to strangers, to look both ways before crossing the street, and never to walk alone at night. Especially as a female, these dangers are spoken of with a deeper meaning. I was alone, there were other people around, but they were the strangers to me. And I was crossing the streets without looking. And I was alone, and on unfamiliar ground. Ground paved with controversy, controversy of the flying of the confederate flag, and pain. Pain and suffering which to many black people is symbolized in that very same flag. Had there been fear on my part in relation to race? Yes. I was a white girl walking alone in a predominantly black area of a city that I did not know. But it was in this unfamiliar territory that my fear was born. And with it came discovery. I was afraid because I was considered different and for the same reason, I feared the man who in the end had been an answer to my prayer…my personal guardian angel.

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