We were out at White Marsh shopping, at The Avenue. I had my Bed, Bath and Beyond purchase in a bag next to my purse. This was at the time when Andrea was dating black guys. She was always my protector, had beaten up—even knocked out—numerous men for hitting on me. There is something frightening about her, the way she snarls under her breath when she punches. She was the total cockblocker—such a savage, but looks good. Guys think they’re just going to walk her off or whatever and she’s got this major retard strength and an unhinged lust to hurt people—it is truly terrifying. I’ve often joked that I’m lucky she’s not some dyke rapist.

We are across from the movies, headed over to see something and these six black girls confront us. Andrea stops, hands me her purse, pulls back her hair and says, “Go sit over there, Niki. Protecting me was always her first thought, no matter what the situation.

The black girls all looked middleclass. They weren’t ghetto girls. Two of them were kind of in my fully female category—the useless chick that gets eaten in the horror movie. Two of them were big beefy girls—just made my skin crawl and the other two were beast women like Andrea, but not half as pretty. You can tell right off that this was just going to be about pulling the pretty white girl’s hair out and making her cry.

One girl asks, “Are you dating Jamal?”

Andrea says, “Listen, you stupid bitch, I don’t date niցցers, I just fuck them. He’s my slave. When I’m done with him you can have him back.”

Of course, it's on now. The black girls are like, “Oh, you about to get yo ass whooped,” and she’s goes into mental mode, the beast-girl rampage, charges into the middle of the three in front of her—they got her surrounded by now—and throws this growling punch like a UFC dude and totally knocks this one girl out. Then she throws this backhand swinging punch [demonstrates lateral, rotational pivot hammer fist] and hits two of them with the same punch, right through both of their faces.

Three of them are down like bowling pins and the other three are taking her to the ground and I’m like, “Oh my God, this is it.” Even so I wouldn’t dare do anything—she’d kill me!

She’s on one girl, punching her in the face, blood splattering, and these other two roll her off and under and they’re trying to hit her and she just pops up like she’s made out of rubber and hits one and then the other like some man punching a bag in the gym and they back off and start helping each other up and she’s rampaging round punching them in the back, snarling and they're like, “Awe ma Gawd, dis bitch is karazee!” and they’re running in every direction and she’s chasing them, like she just has to hit more people.

When she punched them you could hear the thuds—it was sickening. It was not like when girls would beat me up in high school and I’d cry. It was like when Andrea would get a hold of them and beat them and they’d fall over like they were dead. In a way, this was kind of nostalgic, like going back to school!

[Laughter]

We’ve been friends since elementary school.

So, I’m like, “What do we do?”

She pulls the tie-back out of her hair, shakes it out, takes my hand and says, “We’re going to the movies,” and walks me over there.

That’s Andrea—scary as I don’t know what.

The Awakening of a Paleface Ethnocist