Chapter 4“In the beginning was the word and the word was with God!”
Monday morning, rush hour. I’m in the subway, on a packed train headed to the heart of the city for work. A middle-aged white woman with greasy black hair, dressed in a bright green shirt that reads GOD HATES FAGGOTS in big black letters, preaches loudly to us as the train makes its way over the Brooklyn Bridge. Seven minutes ‘til the train reaches a station and the doors open again. Those of us without headphones have no choice but to listen. This woman is in her glory. I feel sorry for the man whose ear she’s shouting in. I shift uncomfortably in the tiny space I’ve been allotted.
The woman turns in her place, and with her back to me, I can see the emblem for the Angel Hill Baptist Church on the back of the shirt. The
