Back in New Haven, I had a boyfriend from a very well-to-do family who’d take me to New York to the opera. He wasn’t that into opera but for me he got season tickets.
Once we were driving back to New Haven at night, and his car stalled. The fellow freaked out something major.
“This is South Bronx!” he said, shaking. “If the car doesn’t start right now, we’ll be murdered within 10 minutes. Because that’s the kind of neighborhood this is!”
Given that a week earlier I refused to enter the Central Park on a Sunday afternoon because many episodes of Law & Order had convinced me I’d be raped and murdered immediately, I believed the boyfriend. Luckily, the car started and we survived.
And yesterday I discovered that at that very moment N was actually living in South Bronx. And he has no idea what there was to be scared of. He doesn’t understand the boyfriend story at all.
So here is the question: was N oblivious or was the boyfriend racist? I honestly have no idea whatsoever. And I still feel terrified of the Central Park.

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