It was late last night, probably two in the morning, and I was headed to my van for to drive out for to socialize, the standard of practice for happening bachelors and critters of the night like myself. However, a young black woman, thin, not unattractive, possibly thirty, approached me and roused me from my self-amused stupor. It took me a while to figure out what it was she wanted. I live in the type of neighborhood where accosting strangers for money/cigarettes/the time is not an infrequent practice, so it took me a second to register that she was saying something different. The key words were “bleeding” and “hospital”. She slowed down enough for me to understand the whole story: she was three months into an at-risk pregnancy, she found herself bleeding, she needed a ride to the hospital or money for a cab RIGHT AWAY.

It was the “money for a cab” bit that made me think she was lying. I thought I’d call her bluff and offer her a ride to the hospital. I asked her what hospital her doctor was at, and she gave the name of a hospital down on the south side. A lengthy drive, to be sure. Not really convenient for someone who lives in Rogers Park, but you never know who needs to go where due to all this HMO nonsense. So the ride was out.

She started giving me all sorts of contact information – home phone, work phone, addresses, her doctor’s name – I got a pad of paper out of my bag and she scrawled all these things onto it. This made me think her problem was genuine, so I gave her some money for a cab. It wasn’t enough, she said, so I gave her a little bit more. I offered to give her a lift to a cab-filled street nearby, but she said she’d better run home and call a cab. I wished her luck, and she hugged me and thanked me for “not being prejudiced”.

Am I prejudiced?

I was not alone on the street that night; despite the late hour, all manner of folk were still milling about – why would she come to me, in particular? Do my white skin and boyish, non-macho gait paint me as an easy rube? Or did she simply think I would be the most likely passerby to be compassionate and help her? Does being suspicious of her story make me a racist? If a white woman came up and told the same story, would I be more likely to believe her with fewer questions? I honestly don’t know. Then again, it’s not as if I were not easily convinced – convinced, at least, to err on the side of caution. If she’s lying, what do I lose? A few bucks. A few hours’ worth of pay. If she’s telling the truth, I don’t want to stand between her and medical attention.

Was I taken advantage of? Did I do the right thing? In a few days, I’ll try to contact her – she said she would pay me back, should I demand this of her? Or would it de-value my act of charity, if it can even be considered that?

I’m drinking a White Russian right now. I dislike Black Russians. Does that mean anything? Yes – it means I adore delicious cream.