“Molten.” The word I grew to love and fear equally in my adolescence. It refers specifically to the feeling I had when I witnessed acts of injustice; things I knew I couldn’t change. The pain and anger welling inside me culminated into this rushing sensation where all the blood goes to my arms and I want to fight. Molten. Like lava, like liquid metal. A stream of this heat building higher and higher until I feel it in my eyes. It brought me to so many different places, and I’ll share one.

In my 11th grade year, I was in a relationship with someone whose little sister treated me like a brother. We would listen to music and bob our heads to the beat while riding the train to the el station under City Hall. One day in particular, all was well until I saw a man waiting for the el with his girlfriend. At first they seemed to be speaking calmly, yet they both were obviously irritated. My “basically” little sister kept running around me in circles chanting that I wouldn’t catch her. Usually I’d play along, but in the moment I was too distracted by the arguing couple. They were getting closer and closer into each other’s faces, more aggressive with the way they spoke. I told Kahleesi (that’s her pseudonym for the sake of anonymity; p.s shoutout to GoT) to stop running around and relax.

My girlfriend at the time asked me why I was being so distant. My honest answer was that I wasn’t, when situations like this one occurred around me I can’t help but stop. My brother and I had a system where we would watch and wait to see if something happens so we can step in; we’ve been doing that for years. I told her that I’m fine and to just hold on until the couple stops fighting. They weren’t stopping. In a moment of heated anger, the man gripped his girlfrend up by her collar, spun her around, and put her in a headlock. That’s when something inside me snapped 

As calmly as I could, I told the sister not to move, as I didn’t want her running around while I handled things. My girlfriend told me not to do anything but I couldn’t stand by like everyone else down there. My mind was ready. I sped over to them and grasped at his arm, pushed it from around her neck, and stood between them. “What the *fudge* do you think you’re doing? Back the *fudge* up before I break your *shirt*.” He backed up like I politely asked, knees shaking a bit. I looked around the room at all the people staring at me. They didn’t step in to help but you could see on their faces that they were relieved someone had. As I gazed at them, one word came to mind… “Molten.”

“You think because no one else stepped up that I wouldn’t? *Forget* that! I don’t play that hitting women *Shimmy* acting like you weren’t raised around a mother or sister. Put your hands on someone like me and see how long you last!” Admittedly, I was a little enraged, but it felt amazing. He tried to play the victim saying “We’re just talking,” but I wasn’t in the right state of mind to listen to that. I looked at the girlfriend and said, “Honestly, *Funk* him. You need to find better.” She just looked to him as if she couldn’t respond without some sort of permission. After a second of silence I backed off and let them be.  He put his arm around her shoulder in a look-I’m-not-gonna-hurt-her kind of way. I held onto my little sister’s hand when I returned to them and said, “Don’t ever let a man put his hands on you like that.” She nodded and smiled at me then said, “I’ll kick his behind!” 

From that day, I knew what would happen if the word “Molten” ever came to mind. There have been a plethora of situations where I’ve had to step in, one being in Dilworth Park which is right next to City Hall. A man fighting a couple people, the cops didn’t want to help, so I broke it up. My adrenaline is in check, I don’t do things without thinking first, but my actions are swift and rough. I’ve had to put my hands on people, but not to hurt them; only to stop them from hurting others, which I cannot stand. Only in those moments of rage and physical dominance do I feel that source of anger become satisfied, when an issue at its boiling point gets dealt with.

I’ve talked to Khaleesi and her older sister about this day a few times afterwards, letting them know that I would always be there when they need someone. I try to stay true to that, but Khaleesi is pretty tough herself and has shown a few times that she can beat the boys in her 3rd grade class, so I’m not too worried. As for my ex, she’s tiny so she had to learn a few moves from me before our split, but she can still fend for her own.

When the word “Molten” creates a shield before my eyes, anybody who knows me will tell you, just stand back and pray for the other person.