Are We Our Brother’s Keeper?

 

Years ago, I answered the front door in Memphis, TN. to find two young African American kids standing near their push lawnmower. They were going around the predominately white neighborhood asking people if they had any work for them.

As I spoke with them, I learned that they had walked a long distance from their home on a very hot day. Though they had knocked on doors for several hours, they didn’t have a single dollar to show for their grit and determination.

Like many of our neighbors, we, too, had recently cut our front lawn. After seeing the disappointment in their eyes, I understood I could not send them away emptyhanded. They were doing exactly what society asked them to do – making an effort to earn money legally.

I gave the boys $20, not a handout but rather an investment in their business. My hope was they would continue to find the encouragement needed to remain on this path to entrepreneurship.

I’ve lived in both affluent and lower working-class neighborhoods – by choice. Anyone has done so is well aware of the privilege that comes with life lived in a wealthy zip code.

When you are poor or working class, other people often look down on you, and that can harden you and deepen frustration and resentment. I often felt that societal sting when I lived in a working class neighborhood in Upper Darby.  Our broken mail boxes in our apartment complex at times were left wide open - exposing our mail, as well as private financial information. Drug dealers hung out in the stairwells. Our complex sent out a letter telling us that selling drugs was a violation of the lease. However, if we saw such encounters, we should call the police -- not them.  One day,  I called 911 to report a gunman chasing another youth - and firing shots at him.  An officer arrives 15 minutes later to pick up the bullet casings from the street. No sirens. No canvassing. I never found out what happened to that boy being chased. But if his family feels outrage, I would certainly understand why.

We are each part of the problem because we looked the other way as this situation developed. Rather than confine ourselves to donating to charities providing temporary relief and assistance, we need to take intentional actions each day that break the cycle of violence and keep youth on the right track.

When they show up unexpectedly at our front door, we have to let them into our lives. We need to be part of the solution. That may mean:

Being willing to come back into the office to help increase pedestrian traffic in hotspots. 

Helping out people in trouble. One night, I got off the subway stop at the wrong location. As I was walking home, a young man approached and told me he would walk behind me until I reached my destination. "I won't come up to where you are because I don't want to scare you," he said. I thanked him after I got home.  He replied, "I hope someone would do the same for my mother or sisters." He was my guardian that day.  Isn't it better to prevent crime rather than invest in  new jails?

Being mindful of the assumptions we make about people who don't look like us or live in our neighborhood. 

During the presidential election of 2020, my dog Gabby wore this sign in front the polling place. There had been reports that our precinct might be targeted by groups wishing to intimidate Black voters. Believe me when I say my dog did not want to stand in line with me for two hours while I voted, but she did. She provided much-needed comic relief and protection. When I went inside to vote, people waiting in line took turns watching over her.

That is what a community does - neighbors look out for each other.