Why you mad?

I love black women. At an early age, I was taught by my dad, grandfather and uncles to honor and respect our women. It was not so much what they said to me, but rather how I saw my mother and other females in my family treated. Other than the normal marital spats and arguments, I never saw any female relative of mine hit or physically abused in any way. Yes, everything was not always smooth and there were times when conversation was minimal and looks that were given were less than desirable, but overall the good outweighed the bed and there was a lot of love our households.

I recognize I was fortunate. I have heard stories from friends and associates about having to grow up in a household where domestic violence was the norm. Where it wasn't uncommon for them to see their mom physically abused by her husband or boyfriend or their dad physically abuse his wife or girl. Naturally, I couldn't comprehend it because it was something I hadn't experienced myself. It would be much later on in life before I even saw domestic violence first hand, so I wasn't even exposed to it outside of my household.

Anyways, this past Sunday, I was cruising the mean streets of Gun-wavin' New Haven. I, along with four friends, was stirring over the preached word we heard at church and on the way to get some food. This particular Sunday afternoon, there was a lot of extra traffic due to the unusually planned, St. Patrick's Day parade. So we were in stop-n-go traffic the entire 5 or so miles. I was always taught by my dad to be aware of what's going on around you, no matter how minor it is. For the most part, I do. I never want to be in a situation where I'm not prepared.

There was a couple driving in front of us on Sunday and they looked very animated to say the least. I didn't think much of it, because I've argued in a car before so, oh well. But as we crept along, the argument became a bit more "animated" complete with neck rolling and arm gestures. At this point, the ladies in my car became a bit more intrigued, upset and scared for the young lady, who was driving. I didn't think much of it, that is, until this brother hit the dashboard which resulted in the bottom of the windshield shattering. He, obviously still mad, then hit the top of the windshield, causing another crack. I was genuinely nervous, hoping I wouldn't be a witness to a beat down.

Then, the car stopped.

Oh shit.

He got out.

A very disturbed young lady, visibly shaken, got out the and walked away. The guy got in the car and drove off. Just like that, it was over. I pulled off behind him wondering why we were in the position to see what we had just seen. The streets were packed, so I know everyone else saw it. The car he was driving made a left at the light, I kept straight, never to see him again. I wondered why he was so mad. As a guy, I know what it's like to get frustrated, but I never raised my fist, as he had done. I wondered where his girl walked off to, and whether they saw each other later that night. I thought about how I would've felt, after my anger wore off, to see the damaged windshield. Whose car was it? I don't know.

Admittedly, I've had temper problems in the past, but this guy made me look like an angel. What were they beefin' about? What made him so mad? Whatever it is, she didn't deserve to be treated like she did and I hope he gets some help.