A Bicycle on the Sidewalk

A friend of mine and rising leader in our emerging house church network told me last night that he has to appear in court. He was riding his bicycle on the sidewalk. Until last night, I had no idea that it was somehow illegal to ride one's bike on the sidewalk in NYC. You see, I've ridden my bike down sidewalk after sidewalk. I've peddled past police cars and police on foot. I've never been asked to stop. I've never been given a ticket. Perhaps, I do need to keep my bike off the sidewalk, but I've never been pulled over by police and had them smell my breath or make sure I wasn't using drugs because I had the audacity to ride my bicycle on the sidewalk. I haven't had the experience of asking for pardon and explaining I was new to this country and ignorant of many of its rules. You see there is a difference between my friend and me.

My friend is Black; I am White. He is African, a refugee from Liberia; I am American. He has been on the brink of death and put into exile, and now he gets stopped for being black on a bike on a sidewalk. Injustice -- however seemingly small -- lives on both sides of the ocean. Truthfully, it makes me angry. But I'm not sure what makes me more angry. The injustice itself, or the apathy of so many of us who live so far from the cries of injustice. I wonder if sheltering ourselves from the cries of racism, classism, sexism, genocide, and other forms of injustice, isn't a form of injustice in itself?