[...] Every time someone dies where I live I feel conflicting emotions. Panic when I hear the news and frantically call my mum to check that all of my brothers are accounted for; relief that all three of them are safe; guilt that I'm relieved; grief when I realise it is someone that I knew; weariness even when I didn't know them personally; concern when I lay flowers and see children doing the same, wondering who will help them adjust to their loss; sombre resolution that this is how things are, have been, and will continue to be, unless it is tackled at the root.
I love my neighbourhood and my family and friends who live here. My bond to where I live, however, doesn't make me blind to its problems. Whether it was travelling to school on buses that were rushed by groups looking to attack rivals, or being chased in instances of race-hate crime, my brothers and I navigated violence in many forms. Read more