assault and the pervasive silence

I experienced assault this week.
Physically I'm OK, psychologically not so much.
The assaulter, let's call him Willy, is an unhoused person who hangs around my apartment building.
Beyond the houselessness--he sleeps and lolls in nearby a restaurant doorway--Willy is a screamer. For months he's roamed the neighborhood, yelling about killing people, slitting throats, murdering all the white people. The restaurant doesn't do anything, so sometimes their well-heeled patrons literally step over him to get inside.
Other times he'll be smiley, wishing you a nice day. It's a shit-eating grin that I don't trust for one second.

A few days ago he pulled down his crusty old sweatpants and displayed his admittedly sad and pathetic dick. Made eye contact with me as if to be sure I got a good long look. Shocked, I hurried away to run my errand.

My next instinct was anger. Fuck that guy. I wanted to beat the shit out of him with my baseball bat. I texted a neighbor. Then called my apartment's emergency line. Call the police, they said.

I hesitated. Willy is a black man in America. I know what happens. And I also know I want to feel safe going in and out of my home. Eventually I called the non-emergency police number. He needs mental health treatment, I said, but they only sent a cop, a couple hours later.

Officer L took my report, said the neighborhood softies obviously had made it too comfortable for Willy. I don't disagree but he was pretty callous. By this time one of the apartment managers was on site so I talked with her too.

Three days later, not much has changed. I exited my building this morning to see him waddling up my street, looking around and then going into the port potty by a building under construction. I made the calls, police, apartment, but what will change?

The other interesting part of this is the reactions. Some acquaintances laughed it off. You should point and chuckle. You should kick him in the throat. You should...

Others are properly shocked or angry or both.

One called me to listen and talk. Like many of my women friends, she has also experienced assault. 
Many of us have gone through much worse than this. A sad reality.

One friend didn't respond at all. Like it never happened. Which feels kind of like the cops and my apartment managers. Waiting for it or me to go away, to be quiet, to stop complaining. I'm not sure how much energy I have for this fight.