When I was a child, I would often gander at the mystical skyline of the city. From my window, I could see the glaring lights of the skyscrapers. That collection of buildings in the distance shined like stars. And to me, they were stars, no matter how hard I reached, I could never touch them. Seeing that skyline closely was a dream I often fantasized about. Looking back, I think we all did. I think everyone in that little neighborhood had their own stars they wanted to reach for. But life didn’t usually work that way for people who lived in places like me. Life always seemed to have other plans for us. When I got older I realized the stars I saw were actually the shine of the bullets whizzing by. I discovered the nebulae I dreamed to reach were just the lights of the police sirens. Perhaps only real stars that neighborhood had were those dead kids rising to heaven. 

People indeed do change over time. The children I played with in elementary school turned to teenagers, who turned into young adults. Many of those children were in circumstances I couldn’t even imagine, with responsibilities that most adults couldn’t handle. I often wondered if those circumstances lead so many of them to pick up weapons. Guns seemed more important than books, at times. It was as if the “Gun and Butter” analogy we learned in school was literally represented in our communities.  But back in those times, in the 80s, a more realistic example was Guns and Crack. 

The leadership of our town didn’t do much to try to help those lost and wayward children. In the “War on Drugs”, any minority in certain neighborhood seemed like a drug dealer. Our teachers always told us to stay away from it all, that it took us nowhere, but for many kids staying away from guns wasn’t easy. For some, gang life was all they knew. And without any conflict resolution training or experience with anger management, guns were the way people communicated with one another. 

It was as if a butterfly flapped her wings and caused a hurricane. Before our very eyes, every person we knew was being shipped off to a penitentiary. The crimes of their youth would forever impact their future. Young people everywhere who were found with illegal weapons in their possession would find themselves in 4 walls of concrete. Perhaps it was to scare the rest of us. Or maybe it was to punish them. Whatever the reason was, it shocked us all.

They failed those children. They failed those who were in front of and behind the barrel of a gun. They failed everyone who ever lost someone due to a gun. Looking back, it seemed that test scores and honor roll was more important than protecting those children from what surrounded them. The lifestyle many chose to live was not actually even their choice. Living like they did was like a virus. We all were surrounded by it. And some were too susceptible to it to fight it. Honeyed words and posters in classrooms couldn’t prevent it. There needed to be an antivirus. 

Those outside of neighborhoods and cities that these issues happened in couldn’t really fathom what the problem was. Many believed that crime was much more prevalent in certain demographics. This, of course, was untrue. Like cancer or heart disease, this issue was often caused by family history. Because a child observes and repeats what goes on in the home, children with parents who were active in criminal activities were much more likely to commit crimes using guns. But that wasn’t all. Just being near it, seeing it, smelling it, feeling it; that was enough for some to mimic what they saw. 

Sometimes the people who looked over us would try to keep us from the path of crime. But some people just can’t help but fall under peer pressure. Like an object under a  hydraulic press, they would bend and shape to whatever they thought they needed to be in order to please others. Unfortunately, a lot of the time there was a demand for foot soldiers. And when they went to war, the entire community suffered. With each murder the city became much more tense. You could see more police officers being dispatched to certain areas and ignoring calls in others. You would hear those pops much more often, and you would suddenly find your own home wasn’t as safe as you once thought. 

We remember our loved ones through t-shirts and crosses with candles on the street. For a few days after their death we listen to the family’s call for change, the pastor’s sermon on “street life” and we watch as how the ink on the t shirts fade and the crosses rot, their candles empty of wax. Soon afterwards, a new set of shirts are printed, another cross is laid and the cycle begins again. Yet nothing in our community changes. People are still slain by young men and women misguided by society. Instead of making changes to prevent this, legislators and community members alike continue to put band-aids on this chasm of a scar. 

People who are considering what the solution may be upon reading this may think that controlling guns would be our best bet to stop youth from using weapons. But those kids would still have guns, they would just get them elsewhere. Maybe people may think that a more intrusive police presence is necessary. But the police aren’t usually trusted in neighborhoods with high volumes of crime. In fact, all of these aforementioned solutions are reactive. What we need is a preventative measure. We need to stop the new wave of young people from using weapons illegally. But saying it and doing it are two different things. D.A.R.E and talks between teacher and classrooms don’t seem to work. Nor do prison tours or discussions with inmates because they appeal to a more concentrated audience. 

There is only one way to ensure that crimes like these are to be reduced, and that is making sure that each and every student in the nation learns how to control their anger, but also learns how to resolve conflicts peacefully. Counseling sessions and safe spaces need to be provided to students in all areas, and students should be able to go to these places whenever necessary. Schoolwork and academics have its place, but the ultimate goal of any school should be teaching and preparing its students for life and the issues it will ultimately bring. 

Life in itself is an anomaly. We could never begin to understand what things direct a person to do a certain action. What goes on in a person’s heart, their mind, their spirit, is truly a mystery. But this mystery doesn’t exempt us from not looking into the issue. We owe it not only to the victims of these crimes, but also the people who committed them to find what it will take to prevent them from happening again. 

We watch movies about people rising up against their oppressors and taking over an evil reign. We as members of a hurting community must do the same, and take over this violent epidemic. It is our job to stand up and change the way things are done. Our unity is what makes us strong. Standing up to these injustices and failures is what makes us powerful. Each must do their part, because if we don’t, these same crimes will likely happen to us or to our loved ones. We literally have to put on our armor and fight for our lives. 

There was a time in which I myself would have been at risk and in the frame of mind to pick up a weapon. I, like many others thought that it would be the most useful way to solve problems. There were those that sought to harm me and my integrity. There were people who I had such an issue with that I felt that their nonexistence would be a benefit to me. But what prevented me from doing it, from picking up that miniaturized death machine was only the fear of the consequences of prison, but the fear of the consequences that my community would subject me to. I quickly learned that the life lead by gun wielding gang members in music videos and the respect that local dealers had were not as glamorous as I once thought. I realized that guns were harmful to both parties involved. The user would be just as harmed as the victim. And once you did use a gun, there was no going back.

Sociologists suggest that young men who do pick up guns share the same thinking that I did. They feel trapped in their situations, and feel that using guns is the only way to escape. The believe that owning a gun will get them power and respect, when in reality it only makes their situation much more complicated. Kids need to learn that guns don’t usually solve problem, but they certainly create them. Guns only lead to an abyss that it damn near impossible to get out of. There are very few ways to redemption once a gun is used. And there is a litany of reasons for why guns are so readily available for young people, but the fact is that they are. If we truly care about how things are set in our society and about the lives of people in our community we would be able to limit the influx of guns. 

Drugs, other crimes, and peer pressure are some of the factors that lead young people to pick up guns and commit crimes. What defines a low income community (where many of these tragedies happen,) are these three facets. We have a responsibility to the victims and the children committing violent crimes to educate our youth to better options and to the consequences that these crimes lead to. A life is too precious to waste, something too important to sacrifice due to lazy legislations and community members. 

The most difficult and recourse-taxing war that this nation has ever fought is the war on the streets today. Living in an area like I did was like playing ping pong. There was so much strife and tension between gangs, police and politicians. It was always a twisting, turning, confusing mess of a battle trying to figure out which way was right. For many people in communities similar to mine, the police were not to be trusted. They were the true criminals. With their constant drug raids, unwarranted arrests and bullying tactics they were never able to be trusted. That left us alone in the hands of the surrounding gangs. And when children grow up in situations like that, they often mimic what they see in their communities. If their parents or loved ones didn't teach them, the streets always had a way of teaching their kids for them. And somehow it always lead to a violent and turbulent cycle that was almost impossible to break. Only after it was too late were people finally beginning to see that guns weren’t the way of life they wanted. 

Looking back, I know now that you can’t see stars in the city. The lights from the skyscrapers overshadow them and stars become naked to the human eye. One day, I went downtown to that skyline, and when I looked up, I felt a tear fall down my face. Not because I had finally achieved a dream, but because I knew that dream was frivolous. In a way, I always did. Somehow I see that this dream, a dream for a fully peaceful America may never happen. But what I am fighting and holding onto this dream for is the hope that it can be reduced. That our efforts can convince just one child to put down a gun. This is the dream that keeps us going. This is the dream that is going to change America. 
