Should Stereotypes Scare Us?

Two weeks ago, I picked up a hitchhiker. Two weeks ago, I had a knife pulled on me. Yes, the two events are related.

Now, before judgment is cast upon me, that was the first time I've ever picked up a hitchhiker. And it wasn't like I went out of my way to pick him up. I was at a stoplight, my windows were down and he was on the corner asking for a ride.

I normally do that thing where I don't look in that person's direction, turn up my music and discretely roll up my windows, but this particular pedestrian looked like he needed help, and I felt sorry for him. So I waved him over.

We weren't in the car for more than a couple of minutes when he pulls out the knife. He didn't point it in my direction, but he made it clear that he had it.

He asked for anything I had of value, and I said I didn't have anything. The guy looked kind of wimpy, one of the factors I considered when I picked him up. But wimpy or not, he had a knife, and I like the way my face looks as is, so I decided not to be a hero.

He took a couple of quick glances around my car, grabbed my backpack and mp3 player and darted out of my car. Luckily, there was a police officer nearby and he found the guy and arrested him.

Throughout the entire ordeal, I kept my cool and wasn't scared. But my friends, however, though they were all happy I was okay, thought it was stupid of me to give a stranger a ride.

I felt like I was in the Saturday Night Live skit "Really?!? With Seth & Amy."

"So, John, you picked up a hitchhiker? Really? Have you never seen the movie Hitchhiker? Really? Well, here's a spoiler, John: everyone dies at the end. People stereotype hitchhikers for a reason. Really."

"And come on John, you're the black guy. You know what that does to your chances of survival during a movie? And you still picked him up, really?"

So before I picked up this guy, did I hesitate? Sure I did. In fact, I've seen Hitchhiker.

But I thought he was genuinely in need of help. I remember a few times I've had car trouble and people stopped to help me. It wasn't clear if they were afraid of me shanking them, but they helped.

My mom also lectured me after the incident.

"Didn't I tell you not to talk to strangers?" she said.

Well, it's not like he tried to lure me into his black van with candy. My religion, and my mom, raised me to be kind to others. Treat others the way I would like to be treated.

I've been helped plenty of times by complete strangers, and most of the time I didn't even ask for it.

When I picked up this kid, I didn't see a hitchhiker, I saw past the stereotype. I saw someone who needed help. What if I wasn't wrong? Really?