Editor stops a hate crime

Friday night was eventful in Kings Cross. Returning at about 9pm from a demure staff function at a North Shore ladies college, my lift dropped me at the top of Forbes Street just off William St, a well-known cruise area for transvestite sex workers. I saw one walking by herself down towards nearby William Lane. She was tall with long dark hair, short skirt and, I couldn’t help noticing, great legs.

I headed towards William Street and home when I heard a shout. Turning around I saw the transvestite was now on the ground, on the corner of William Lane, being savagely beaten and kicked by a young guy while another stood guard.

I shouted at them to stop (but this never works once adrenalin has overtaken an aggressor’s faculties). So I charged down the hill towards them. The accomplice leaned his shoulder towards me to block me but I was bigger than him and by this time going fast enough to knock him aside. I shouldered my way into the assault, separating the attacker from his victim, crowding him and speaking calmly to him, saying things like “There’s no need for this, mate,” and “She’s had enough, brother.”

He kept trying to land karate kicks on his victim, shouting out “F—ken poofter” and calling me a “poofter-lover”. I kept crowding him away until the two of them walked off quickly towards William Street and Kings Cross, still abusing us.

Others now came in offering assistance including a woman from the Kirketon Road Centre van which was on the other side of Forbes street, and another woman who came up from further down William Lane. But the bashing victim had now risen unsteadily to her feet and refused help, saying only “Do I look OK. That’s all I care about at the moment.”

I presumed her main concern was to get back to work and earn some money. I told her about the bruise that was already spreading below her left eye, but otherwise she looked OK. I stayed with her until it seemed the thugs were not coming back, and people were around. She gave me a warm hug and thanked me. She said the pair had not spoken to her before the attack.

So I left the scene of what was unquestionably a hate crime – not a ‘gay-bashing’ as such because transvestites are not necessarily gay. I walked quickly towards Kings Cross in the hope I could see them and a police person to arrest them. I didn’t realise at that point in my adrenalin-charged state that I had somehow injured both my ankles. It seems steel-toed Dunlop Volleys are no good for running down hills on a hard surface.

As I made my way up to the Cross I was overtaken by a Police Rescue Truck which stopped at the station where it turned out a man had thrown himself under a train. But that’s another story.

I reported the assault to police the next day, unable to give a better description of the thugs than medium height, fit-looking Caucasian guys 18–20 years old, smartly dressed, short hair, one wearing a fitted grey short jacket and a grey baseball cap with no obvious logos. They didn’t seem drunk.

Police said this sort of crime was not common but it did happen. In the past fortnight some young guys had been driving around the area “throwing things at the girls and abusing them.”