Heart Shaped Vandalism

On Thanksgiving Eve, our shop was vandalized. Someone, or ones, tried to bash in the glass of our front door with a rather triangular, medium-sized rock. It also seems as if they were attempting to remove the door handle. After a call from some concerned friends who noticed the damage (thanks Dara and Amy!), we arrived to view the scene of the crime.

I said, "Looks like some drunk/hoodlum was driving by and threw the rock." The offending object was resting in the center of the threshold. I generally chose to believe it was random vandalism because that notion felt safest.

Vandalism Later, it was pointed out to me that the left bolt on the handle of the door was halfway out and the handle itself was extremely loose. This means that someone took the time and energy not to lob a stone from a moving vehicle but instead stood in front of the door long enough to work out the bolt and probably crash the rock into the glass with all their might. This is a more disturbing picture to me.

We called the cops, filed a rote report, taped up the cracks in the door with red packing tape, and learned from the forensics officer that she had been down the street where a church had also been broken into the night before when she got the call to come see us. Oddly, this set me at ease a bit. I could relax again into thinking the crime was perpetrated by some crackhead just looking for some cash.

The next day I was working behind the cash register and a rumpled, somewhat awkward looking teenage guy held open the door and from the threshold asked, "What happened to the door?"

I replied, "Rock," and pointed to the weapon cum art piece in front of the tip jar.

"Do they know who did it?"

"No."

He let the door shut, examined it's shatter pattern and swung it open again, "I think this happened to the guy before you, too."

"Oh yeah?" I replied as he let the door shut on himself again.

He wandered around in front of the store, reading every poster in the windows and returned to the doorway with this parting quip, "I bet it was the Ku Klux Klan. Because you have some... don't you have some... homo... homosexual stuff in here?"

I looked up at him and said, "Yes. Yes, we do."

Formerly vandalized door He continued, "Yeah, it was probably them. They're not very organized anymore but they still do small operations like this." And with that he was gone.

"Yeah, it could have been them I guess," was shruggingly coming out of my mouth as he left. I saw him skulking about the posters in front of the store one other time that day and I thought, "It was probably that guy!"

Still, it was a more heartening thought that it might have been some random drunken rampage, anonymous. More fear lies in the thought that someone carefully, or in some momentary rage, chose to try to breach our space because it really pissed them off that we are queer.

Pretty soon after, we began looking at the patterns on the smashed door. We all agreed there was some strange beauty in its brokenness. Then I took in my breath as I noticed the center of the blunt force wound looked like a heart made up of glass splinters. My friends rolled their eyes at my Pollyanna attitude but, they admitted that, yes, it had created a vague heart shape.

The door is fixed now. There is no trace of the violent heart and nothing has happened since.

Reflecting on the imminent beginning of a New Year, I have come to find lessons for myself in this experience. I am resolved to push back my fears as much as possible, to hold my head high, and be proud of who I am, what I do, and the community that I serve. I am resolved to see the shattered, glass-splintered heart in everything and to believe that in the darkest of dark places there is still a heart to heal and hold together. I am resolved to being receptive, perceptive, intuitive, and, of course, to love.

No counterpoint today.

Tags: Vandalism - Fear - door - heart shaped cracks