New beginning (www.wcmt.org.uk)

As the fellowship draws to a close, it's important to reflect on the journey travelled and to see it as the foundation for a new journey to be undertaken. I suppose I would see the following points as a mixture of summary points and findings.

1. Fatherhood:
The impact of father hunger and deficit is clearly visble in Inner city Baltimore and has created a void with the overall life of the inner city itself. The need for a father and to experience positive fathering is on an epidemic scale. The impact of this area of young black men’s lives cannot be underestimated or ignored. Once again my own research would suggest that many of those young black men have ‘opted out’ from wanting to address their feelings on this issue, and find solace in their crew and extended peer group. South African criminologist and journalist Don Pinnock argues:

… gangs provide more emotional support than the youths' often-dysfunctional families. But there's another, even more important, reason for the existence of gangs. In the history of all of our cultures, and in cultures people call 'primitive' today, adolescent boys face ordeals and trials that test their manhood and courage. In our urban cultures, which have lost ancient roots through migration, poverty or dilution young people continue to have (and act on) the same needs. Where ritual is absent it is created. (Pinnock 2003)

Pinnock highlights that the collapse of the contemporary families can give rise to a different type of family, namely the gang. Another common feature of father deficit and hunger is the issue of ‘being a man’. Talking to some young black men who are angry at their father’s absence, it is evident that many of them left the relationship and handed over the responsibility for being ‘the man of the house’ to his son, who was ill equipped to deal with such a role. However, the need to protect mum and show family leadership has placed many young black men in a role that at times brings them into conflict with mum’s new partner. This makes matters worse as it compounds the isolation of young black men who cannot actualize their own sense of masculine identity. The young black man, who loves his absent father, may choose to defend his father’s honour. The result is more chaos, confusion, and possible conflict.

Cultural commentator and feminist, bell hooks also argues that much is written about black men by black men, but little is written about “how black men might create new and different self-concepts”. hooks takes the position that young black men themselves must take a stronger position on critical thinking to begin the process of recovery from the huge deficit created by an oppressive history. If young black men cannot develop a positive self-concept it is questionable whether they can maintain a focus that will enable them to desist from crime, anti-social behavior, or risky lifestyles. The pressure brought about by not having time to heal or headspace to think for many young black men creates the level of internal distress resulting in projected anger, rage, and social conflict.

Hence the propensity to continue the cycle of masculine decline that ends up in prison, psychiatric wards, pupil referral units, etc, that in turn robs generations of younger black men of brothers, fathers, uncles, and significant elders. As the lack of communication from many black men becomes acute, the knock on effect assists in eroding notions of a ‘healthy community’. With unprecedented levels of personal violence on the increase; the extended family hurtling towards extinction; elders wisdom in short supply; relationships struggling to stay afloat; it is plain to see how many young black men returning back to the community from prison become institutionalised casualties who are walking around in a ‘self-destruct mode’. This moves the outcome away from a ‘Criminal justice issue’ into the realms of what could best be described as a wider ‘Public health epidemic’. When one analyses the contemporary journey of black men in prison as fathers and sons, words such as absent, negative, deadbeat, useless, and so on recur and manifest themselves in a generation of young black men who suffer a growing legacy of ‘father deficit’ that can and does lead to those same young men searching for replacement father’s within the confines of ‘gang culture’.

2. Criminal as victim:
In inner city Baltimore there is a hidden layer of criminal justice casualties; young men who have desisted from a life of crime, but have themselves become victims of crime. Attempts to leave the gang, beating the court case by informing on others, and community justice in the form of revenge creates more victims. These victims have no sympathy from society or the community. Their lives are ruled by fear, governed by the code of the streets, and have little pathway to a new life.

3. Poverty that forces you back into crime:
Having no money to live on, little or no healthcare insurance, limited employment and educational opportunities is forcing many young men back to the ‘corners’ as a way surviving and restoring lost masculine pride and status. The prospect of having nothing creates the lack of motivation to return back to a life of law abiding activity. This position results in forcing individuals back to the ‘corners’ as a way surviving and restoring lost pride and status.

4. Biography:
The need to access the stories of the real lived experiences of inner city people living in Baltimore is vital in terms of understanding what needs they have, and how solutions can be found to the problems they face. Little Melvin’s history of criminality and ultimate desistance has relevance for scholars looking at desistance. However, Melvin lives in the Inner city where many researchers fear to tred. This poses a dilemma for an important area of investigation. The need for capturing these important narratives are crucial here. Shows like ‘The Wire’, ‘The Soprano’s’, CSI, and so on, may be realistic but do little in terms of giving insight to the wider community about crime and it’s orientation.

5. Access to constituency:
Researching in n place like Baltimore’s inner city requires a reframing of the ethical considerations required when undertaking an investigation that requires high risk. Ethics are the bedrock of academic research. An important and necessary process of selection of methods to be used in accessing constituents. Thus ensuring objectification in the process. In most cases it requires negotiating access, brokering relationships, and finding formats that will satisfy both the commissioning agency as well as the subjects of the inquiry. In places like Baltimore’s inner city, ethical considerations are no less important, but different. The element of risk has to be carefully balanced against the need to undertake the work required. Gaining access at times is at the discretion of criminals, gang members, or go betweens who broker the access. It is important that any researcher undertaking work in a difficult environment make appropriate choices and selections without compromising the outcomes. It is also important to both include and exclude any outcomes, but not to avoid engaging in these hostile environments on account of protocols that at time should be questioned and challenged.

6. Secondary Victimisation:
Many young people are impacted by childhood neglect, abuse, and violence have major psychological issues that are not being addressed. The lack of support for these secondary victims in itself generates more victims, who themselves become perpetrators of acts of violence and abuse. These individuals have no access to public funds for therapy or counselling. They walk around the community like the walking dead and are literally dying a day at a time. Packed into a densely populated and over policed community, these individuals pass unnoticed and blend in well as another veneer of urban decay. Where is the morality in this situation? How can it be justified? How is it maintained? If we addressed this question, maybe we would have to do something about it as a society.

7. Faith based conversion - (Finding a new father – God):
The need for re-connecting to the Spirit becomes a fundamental need for many that is not couched in religious dogma and rhetoric. Blighted by slavery, denied access, racism, and still being ravaged by a system that over incarcerates, African American men are searching for a new identity that will rid them of the pain of socio-historical neglect and provide some much needed healing. Baltimore’s inner city people, read the Bible and Koran, find comfort in the arts, retreat inside the beats of music, and push for Spiritual guidance. It is a strong motivating force for staying out of trouble and transforming one’s life into new meaning and purpose as a way of transcending the burden of acute and on-going pain. There are strong faith community inputs into the lives of many, but for those who lose their faith, the American Dream can become a nightmare.

8. Mentor as enabling a rite of passage – Individuals who can break it down:
The development of a holistic space and dialogue where academics, strategic players, and community can come together is badly needed in Baltimore’s inner city communities. Too many young people in Baltimore are struggling to cope within the confines of the urban environment. My experience taught me that there is a need for anyone wanting to engage those young people to understand the practicalities of developing credibility. Many of the young people I encountered would not give you access to them unless you could demonstrate a clear understanding of where they were at, without judgement. The stories I would hear of young people being subjected to police brutality, violence in the community, disruptive home lives, father absence due to incarceration, death, or drugs, assuming Family responsibilities, gang culture, and numerous other aspects of inner city living, at times painted a bleak picture. These young people wanted answers, solutions, and strategies for managing those situations, not circular conversations, or voyeurism. What they needed was individual’s who ‘break it down’ and guide them to a new place.

9. Desistance:
The term ‘desistance’ is used in relation to understanding why and how former offenders avoid continued involvement in criminal behaviour. Without a clear understanding of the role race plays in the cessation of criminal activity for black men, any understanding of desistance could be both flawed and incomplete. Within criminological theorizing much is written about why black men commit crime and it’s relation to high rates of incarceration of black men both in the UK and US. However, little is known about black men and their cessation or desistance from criminal activity. Seldom do theorists engage in a discussion that looks at whether black men’s struggle to desist from involvement crime and disorder, is rooted within a socio-historical context. The acknowledged impact of racism on the lives of young black men that pushes them towards criminal lifestyles, highlights that developing a positive approach to transcending racism and its impact could play a significant role in desisting from criminal behaviour. It is also important for black men to have a sense of who they are, away from the history of their oppression. Author Dan McAdams suggests ‘that stories represents critical scene and turning points in our lives, and that the ‘life story ‘is a joint product of person and environment. In a sense the two write the story together.’ McAdam’s presents a plausible argument that suggests storytelling can provide a framework that identities desistance as a journey. Therefore it could be argued that the understanding of the destination arrived, must be understood in term of the journey travelled.

10 Community Businesses:
Raising the profile and development of community businesses within black communities is vital to increase the visibility of those services in the wider social economy. Baltimore has many problems that are being addressed by strategic agencies, academic institutions, and communities. However, the disconnect between them means at times the needs of the community can be rendered invisible or struggle to become visible in the wider social economy. Therefore, there is a need to ensure that responses to community need are placed within a business model to create the possibility for self-determined actions, as well as reducing the systemic dependency that occurs all too often. The diversity of business responses to community need demonstrated innovation, flair, and resilience. Street vendors, second hand furniture stores, complimentary educational programmes, arts based interventions, and numerous other activities highlighted what can be done to maintain and sustain community life where there is no Government support.

I want to thank all of those people in Baltimore's community who shared their stories. I also want to thank the Winston Churchill Fellowship for giving me the bursary. Finally I want to thank all of those who followed my blog. I hope you will continue to support me, as a new chapter has just begun.
 
Watch this space
 
Peace

Reality Check (www.wcmt.org.uk)

Seeing deep poverty up close and personal, meeting and talking with victims of crime, combined with numerous observations of the impact of social neglect on real people’s lives, I am confronted with a troubling feeling. On one hand I desire to be part of a process of social change and transformation, but there is a strong sense of feeling quite powerless to affect the changes I want to see take place. It was at this point I started to reflect on a book by Donna Merten’s called ‘Transformative research and Evaluation.’ She states:


‘The transformative paradigm recognises that serious problems exist in communities despite their resilience in the process of throwing off the shackles of oppression as well as making visible the oppressive structures in society. Researchers working in any type of community can learn from those who are engaged in this struggle, just as we learn from each other through critical examination of the assumptions that have historically guided research studies’

Merten’s point reassures me that research can transcend the boundaries of the academy and locate itself in the process of social change and transformation. It is an isolating place to be, as to do so means limiting the kind of resource opportunities available for conventional approaches to research. Ultimately it is down to each research to take a position in relation to their core values, passion, and vision for the work they’re doing. Baltimore has more than confronted me with that reality. I am now going to attempt to explain my reasons for taking this position:

For most of my working and professional life I have worked with many social groups, committed to enabling those with silent and invisible voices to be seen and heard. It has been a difficult journey at times, leading to many moments of self-doubt, trepidation, and emptiness. The contrast at times has been empowering, motivating, and energising. However, the continuing challenge to play a role in enabling black men to find their own voices is an on-going battle. In spite of being a practitioner of many years, and now venturing into the world of academia, via a PhD, I still have difficulties in raising the profile of the work I do. Mainly because the story of black men has been traditionally told by others. By moving away from this position has at times posed a threat to much of the dominant theories and practices. Baltimore has reaffirmed my commitment to continuing this struggle (and it is a struggle) as there are very few people committed to engaging with that section of the black community that has been written off and are not easy to access. It is not an easy type of work nor is it driven by ego. It is something more fundamental. The need for the community to be a place where black men go to prison less, are less mentally ill, and can restore their well-being back to some kind of balance.

Many black men within the UK and US are over represented amongst the prison population, are suspended and expelled from school more than their white counterparts, gang affiliation amongst many young black men is on the increase, black on black violence through guns is growing, and many young black men are struggling to achieve positive masculine development in relation to fatherhood. Equally as important is the recognition that there are many successful black men who have excelled in their chosen careers and professions, who are hard working, haven’t been in trouble with the law, and are taking care of their families.

Despite the increase in social mobility, earnings, and opportunities for black men in the UK and US, it is questionable whether they are more socially acceptable. The rise in extreme right wing activity, the absence of a positive black male presence within the UK and US media landscape, and a social infrastructure that addresses itself more to black men as a problem, as opposed to an asset. In investigating the current social positioning of black men within a UK and US context, it is important to identify key factors that both unite and divide black men.

It is this questioning that has led me to believe that black men in the UK and US are still being moved away from achieving a meaningful and productive life. I am of the opinion that living within a society that defines itself through a mono-cultural ideology, many black men have constructed a self-concept and masculine identity more as a coping strategy built more on survival than designing a template for holistic living. It is my view that this coping strategy sets up the possibility for the development of a false consciousness that is maintained through fears, pressure, and intimidation by social structures, who demand loyalty, restricting any questioning of its values.

For black men in the UK and US to gain more ground and have a bigger stake in the wealth of the country, there needs to be a re-framing of the current world view that many of us hold. Things are further complicated by an institutional response to black needs that uses ‘Street Level Bureaucracy’ as the conduit for handling the social aspirations of black men. This systematic approach to public policy delivery operates very effectively by stifling black self-determination, independence, and ultimately liberation from a system that serves its own needs. The net result is a black community that becomes trapped, disillusioned, powerless and ultimately controlled.

It is easy to fall into a rhetorical position about who has the best theory, best position, most coherent argument, and numerous other postures that have little validity or credibility with a gunshot victim, families living in poverty, or countless individuals who have no voice in how their communities are maintained where each member feels connected and takes ownership for making the environment a great place to reside. I started the journey in Baltimore unaware of the eventual impact of the trip. I’ve almost concluded my sojourn with a renewed sense of purpose and a desire to use my skills and expertise for the greater good. Not only am I comfortable with that decision, but I feel it’s is the right thing to do.

Peace

New thoughts (www.wcmt.org.uk)

Being in Baltimore has enabled me to view many aspects of my views, values, and insights in a whole different way. I have become and am now seen as a public intellectual, inasmuch as I occupy two spaces equally but different; community and academia. It feels like waking up in a strange room and things have changed. Many things have changed, not least me. The irony of feeling both liberated and trapped at the same time is a strange feeling, but one that I’m trying to manage. I can’t go back to what I was and I am not yet fully formed in terms of being re-birthed in a new form I have felt at times disconnected and dislocated, and wandered around in a liminal space waiting to make some kind of transition into something. Like many people I occasionally hover like a humming bird and at times being frightened to confront things that you have to let go of. In reality I am meeting new people, having new experiences, and have acquired fresh perspectives, not just about crime, but people. Ralph Ellison’s opening statement comes to mind:

'I AM an invisible man. No, I am not a spook like those who ' haunted Edgar Allan Poe; nor am l one of your Hollywood movie ectoplasms. I am a man of substance, of flesh and bone, fibre and liquids - and I might even be said to possess a mind. I am invisible; understand, simply because people refuse to see me. Like the bodiless heads you see sometimes in circus sideshows, it is as though I have been surrounded by mirrors of hard, distorting glass. When they approach me they see only my surroundings, themselves, or figments of their imagination - indeed, everything and everything except me:


Ellison encapsulates how I have felt during a trip that will be dissected, debated over, and at times dismissed as a voyeuristic gaze at another culture. In conversation with a good friend he made a comment about notions of invisibility and referred to this state of being as like a 12th man (Substitute) on a cricket team. I reflected on my own situation and realise how at times I feel like the 12th man. I was told that any new journey would be lonely, transforming, and at times uncomfortable. The desire to be a team player, but being relegated to the bench because your style of play doesn’t suit people is very painful. Flair, individuality, and operating outside the box, are all qualities that scares a team that have been playing the same formation and tactics for the longest while. I do not want to be invisible, but if I continue to settle for second best, compromise myself, or play into other people’s mindset, and then I am destined to sit on the subs bench. I keep coming back to Ellison’s prophetic speech. Why do I feel this way? Maybe I’m invisible to me and need to become more visible. I buy a new book ‘The New Jim Crow – Mass incarceration in the age of colorblindness’ by Michelle Alexander. An amazing book founded on the premise that not only is race a key factor in criminal justice, but the contexts that led to the enslavement of African American’s has moved into the prison industrial complex. I smile and am grateful for Baltimore’s invisible citizens letting me into their lives. I know why I’m here. More importantly I know who I am.

Peace

IZ (www.wcmt.org.uk)

Iz’s obvious distress becomes more intense out of the desperation of his situation. He wants to leave the gang, but if he can’t get money for his rent, he may have to reconsider his position. Outsiders to his situation would say it’s easy. The reality is far from true. Ted tries to calm the situation with seasoned wisdom and care. Iz listens, but the pain of this moment silences any responses he may give. I look at Iz’s puffed up eyes, clenched fists, and body rocking, and felt compelled to talk to him. As was the norm in these situations Ted had to vouch for me, as a way of brokering any conversation I needed to have. Trust is the most important value for gang members. So the sight of a complete stranger like me creates a situation where that trust must be earned.

The key to talking to guys like Iz is ‘keeping it real’. Don’t lie, keep your ego locked away, look the person straight in the eyes, and don’t make false promises. So I kept it real. I shared some of my own experiences of facing difficulties, as a way of connecting to his distress. A short while later, Iz smiles, nods, and begins to open up to me. I discover he has a passion for drawing. I give him a copy of my latest illustrated children’s book, and urge him to change his focus by re-connecting to his passion. For a few minutes Iz is no longer a gang member. He is a young man dreaming of a new future, escaping into the world of his imagination. It’s a breakthrough moment. Ted smiles at me and praises Iz for his interaction with me. The frown lines have gone, Iz looks less stressed, and any thoughts about gang life have disappeared. A call comes through. Iz retreats back to his gang demeanour. Iz touches my fist, exits the car, and ushers Ted into the apartment. I’m alone again.

It feels like it’s a long time, even though it’s a matter of minutes. Ted and Iz emerge, embrace each other. It’s time to go. I get out the car and thank Iz for his openness and vulnerability. We touch fists, I walk off. Iz calls me back and asks me for some contact details. I give him a card. We leave.Ted gets a text from Iz. He thanks Ted for introducing me to him. Ted smiles and tells me that my actions have not only assisted Iz, but I have averted a possible street robbery, based on his current situation. I felt good. Reality is you can’t save everyone, but you can bring some relief to a difficult situation. Small steps make a big one.

Peace

If only (www.wcmt.org.uk)

I met two young men on North West Avenue (Baltimore) both aged 15, both gang affiliated, both struggling with issues of trust of older men. Each one carrying the burden of fatherlessness, a lost childhood, combined with grieving the loss of many of their friends, who had become casualties of ‘street warfare’. They represent a generation without fathers. These young men shared stories and highlighted the invisibility and absence of nurturing and older loving men in their lives. For these fatherless children there was a familiar cry and pain and hurt, combined with the inability to deal with the loss of their closest and most significant male role model. What happens when the support's not there? When you feel unable to get up in the morning, face the day, or be able to reach out to anyone? That is my reflection on these two young men. These young men were desperately lonely, isolated, and unaware of what positive things can happen in their lives. This results in carrying a painful past, with un resolved issues, the trauma of a troubled past manifesting in living in dark void. Being in the gang they experience a sense of belonging, love, and security. Not the kind that the average person knows, but one that carries extreme risk.

Being fatherless for both of them is a label that at times is difficult, confusing, and full of external & internal conflicts. This can result in a daily struggle and at times can result in a loss of identity as a young man. The burden of depression; the weight of helplessness; and the pain of not having those you love and care for is crushingly painful. They merely exist in the confines of the inner city, the world of materialism, live a lifestyle with the absence of spiritual values, and the concept of dealing with 'self as part of a process of recovery is alien. For those absent fathers who are responsible for this absence I talk to you. Time can became an excuse for not addressing crucial issues. "I don't have time" "This is not the right time" "You've asked me too many times" "Some other time". All excuses many of us have said and sometimes still do. In an ideal world we should all be able to communicate effectively at the drop of a hat. But if the environment is not right, you don't have the space in your head, or it's just bad timing, we will oppose anything that highlights our vulnerabilities. As the media grips our consciousness, we talk to each other less, and rely heavily on TV to provide us with little or nothing in the way of guidance or upliftment. By default, meaningful communication or anything philosophical appears to be old fashioned, as we are supposed to believe that the new technologies such as The Internet, Mobile Phones, etc have replaced face-to-face communication.

As the lack of communication from many men assists in the decline of the community, the problems of getting us to talk to each other are escalating. Unprecedented levels of personal violence is on the increase; the extended family is becoming extinct; elders wisdom is in short supply; relationships are struggling to stay afloat; and we have all become casualties as many men walk around in a SELF-DESTRUCT mode. We can procrastinate, protest, fight each other, hold conferences, write another report, and employ numerous other strategies as a way of trying to unravel what is going wrong. If we ploughed all of that energy into meaningful communication with our sons we would save time, effort, money, and relationships. We would also provide a way back from the wilderness, and place words like community, self-love, sharing, and togetherness at the forefront of our vocabulary. Effective communication between us should involve a variety of approaches, but none of them are a substitute for talking, sharing, and listening. As I leave these young men prowling the streets of Baltimore I wish I could do more. We talked, smiled, laughed, shared our stories, but the reality of their plight was still unresolved. I also wonder how they will manage their own journey into fatherhood.

If only ……………..

Peace

Pacing (www.wcmt.org.uk)

My observations of many men in inner city Baltimore is they are always on the move. Talking to a lot of the young men who have not seen their father, are waiting for him to return, have watched him on the streets, watched him walk out of the house, and so many other scenario’s, it seems like many men will not stand still for a minute. The culture of occupying the corners and being constantly on the move is troubling. To the readers of my blog, I offer this poem:

Pacing

He paces up and down
The street corner
Pushin’ … sellin’ ‘n’ hustlin’
He paces up and down the streets
Lookin’ for the guy that owes him money
He paces up and down with rage
Havin’ beaten his woman
Coz she ended the relationship
He paces outside the liquor store
With a bottle in his hand
And stumbles around in the dark
He paces up and down at the bus stop
Waitin’ to go to his destination
As he has no car and is
Frustrated at standin' in the rain
He paces up and down
Waitin’ for his victim to emerge from the club
He paces up and down in the holdin’ cells
Waitin’ to be handed a life sentence
He paces up and down his prison cell
Unable to cope with his life sentence
He hangs himself
Coz he can’t face pacin’ up and down anymore
If only he’d stood still for a while

Peace

Black Leadership (www.wcmt.org.uk)

The latest edition of 'Ebony' magazine carried an article by writer, activist, and prospective congressman candidate Kevin Powell, centring on Black Leadership. On reading it I felt the need to reflect my own views on this on-going and endless debate. Powell addresses the issue of the symbolism of Barack Obama's presidency, and reminds us that in spite of being the first black president, he is in effect the President of the United States. An important and valid statement. I remember the day we watched this historic moment and for the first time exhaled. However, the euphoria was short lived. Not that it wasn't massive as an event, but the need for the black community to move beyond the confines of it's oppression is bigger than that of having a black president. Indeed my own observations of life in Baltimore's inner city raises some significant and searching questions around the issue of black leadership and why is it important? I have seen, interacted with, talked to, and engaged with a significant amount of prominent black individuals. However, no-one individual I met, had the credibility and power to unite and galvanise the different sections of the black community.


Leadership for me is a word difficult to pin down, much like the word community. It's a term that means different things to different people. Maybe that's the problem, there is no singular defintion of what leadership is, and what qualities leaders possess, in any definitive way. Yet there are countless books, articles, research investigations, conferences, and so on, all designed to create a unified understanding of leadership. Again I have more questions for anyone taking up the position of leadership. In a community that has gang leaders, business leaders, educational leaders, sports leaders, arts leaders, political leaders, and numerous other contestants, why is there such an outcry in both the US and UK for a single individual to lead the masses to a new place? Powell's assertion raises an important question. We have a black leader in the US, but the absence of a race context to the presidency highlights the difficulty of occupying such a position.

A presidency has to address a diverse range of concerns of which race is only a facet. However, a leader that can unite the masses where race becomes a key factor represents a different context and continuum. So therefore, how can one individual unite a community whose needs, difference, and social reality are so varied and complex? How does or can one individual forge links and empower Baltimore's disaffected, victims of crime, colleage graduates, parents, business people, faith leaders, the unemployed, veterans, the very young, single mothers, and so on. What is the glue that binds this constituency? And what are the ingredients in the make up of the glue? Maybe the answer lays within researching and reframing the history that gave rise to individuals who did galvanise the community. Maybe we need to go back and relook at Malcolm, Martin, DuBois, Fanon, Rosa Parks, The Niagara Movement, Negritude, The Harlem Rennaisance, and any other area of the hidden story. Maybe it's less about one leader and disovering the leader within all of us.



Peace

Shadow People (www.wcmt.org.uk)

Throughout my journey in life I have encountered many amazing people whose stories have gone with them to their grave, have not been told, been ignored, or have been too uncomfortable for many to hear. Having been part of Baltimore's inner city community I have heard and listened to many stories from those I refer to as ‘shadow people’

These individuals are always present in our lives, but linger in the background. Many ‘shadow people’ are socially labelled as ‘Hard to access’ or ‘Hard to reach’. In truth they are neither. They merely exist in their own world of darkness and fear, a world that they are familiar with, and one that generates fear within us. Other ‘shadow people’ are victims of circumstance; losing loved one’s in tragic circumstances, struggling with a terminal illness, coping with a mid-life crisis, or struggling with the day to day running of having a mental illness. The need for space to reflect, think, have fun, and generally explore the world has diminished over the years. As a child growing up I remember, how much space I used to occupy, when streets were safe, youth clubs were about adventure, and open spaces weren’t restricted. Young people now share stories of not being allowed into shops, where shopping centre’s restrict their movement, older people feel a threat from their presence, combined with the daily struggles to occupy space in their own houses.

Being a step-child who doesn’t have a bedroom, living in an environment which has limited access to facilities such as sports, parks, outward bound, and so on, has created a generation craving their own space. We now have young people who ‘ring fence’ space in their communities and will defend the right to occupy it by ‘post code’ designation.Take crumbling inner city communities, who are starved of resources, with people living on the edge, where the daily battle to keep young people off the streets is being lost. Combine this with a volatile, but coping generation , who are fed up of being the target for media sensationalism, the police, and an assortment of corrupt individuals, hell bent on exploiting the crumbling infrastructure, and you have Shadow People.

Most of all their stories about people, community, survival, a determination to succeed, and testimonies that must be heard.


Peace

From a lost and found son (www.wcmt.org.uk)

Having met so many young and older people here, male and female who have been fatherless, I have been asked on several occasions where my passion comes from, and what is it I know about the issue. It is for that reason I have decided to present my own story. Those without fathers are walking around with pain, looking for love, and are struggling to find internal peace. The need for a father, the desire for the love of a father, and the importance of having someone to connect your whole being to cannot be underestimated. So much research, so many books, so many hypothesis’s have been tested to ascertain the psychological impact of his absence, the relationship to crime, and numerous gazes which at times border on being voyeuristic. The following testimony is not aimed at anyone in particular. It is not designed to be fed into any research, or add weight to a policy document. It is whatever it means to the reader. For ease of reading it is presented in a serial format:

Part One - Beginning
I only met Astley Roy Moore, (my natural father), who was a Jamaican, a handful of times. Once when I was eight, when he was introduced as my uncle. Being so young and totally consumed with the excitement of meeting him, I was pacified by his entrance into my life. He then proceeded to buy my affection on a shopping trip that lasted no more than a few hours. I never questioned his absence in my life as I was too busy being with ‘Dad’ (A term I never used with him). I thought I’d arrived now I had my father back in my life. I stuck two fingers up to all those people who made me feel the stigma of having an absent parent. I felt complete. It was a false reality! After a meal, he took me back to the designated rendezvous point, dropped me off, and that was that. It was 24 years later before I would see him again. Most of my formative years were spent thinking that he really cared for me.

When I check it, I never ever had a birthday or Christmas card, heard his voice on the phone, benefited from his wisdom; absolutely nothing at all! I never had any sense the impact his absence would have on me until later in my life. How could I, I was too naïve, and inexperienced? I bought the lie, as the pain was too difficult to comprehend. Deep down I was dying inside. A feeling that has stayed with me. It’s a feeling you never quite come to terms with, and suppress in order to survive. As the years rolled on I hoped and prayed I would meet him again, go on an adventure, and act like nothing had happened. I was totally blind and deaf. I didn’t listen to my inner voice and conveniently ignored my mother’s hurt. I needed a scapegoat. Something that I have since rectified, but I know my anger opened up a wound within her, which only healed during her battle with cancer as I made my way back.

The Prodigal son comes to mind. Only is my case it was my mother not my father who welcomed me back home after I had gone out into the world and lived a turbulent life. I know that mum is at peace, which has aided my journey into my own healing. Jill Roberts, a white woman from Wales, who in 1955 Great Britain fell in love with this handsome Jamaican. A brave and courageous gesture way back then. To have me, lose the man she loved, and still manage to make a life for herself, was truly remarkable. She never gave me up for adoption (A common occurrence during the 50’s). Weaker women would have crumbled, but my mother demonstrated the kind of courage I am only now discovering. When I met my father many years later, I had to cope with yet another major blow; he had had a stroke as well as being married to a woman who didn’t know I existed. His illness restricted the things I so desperately needed to say to him, causing me more anxiety. During our brief moments together we shared some important times, but the opportunity to offload my hurt never arose. How I wanted to shout, scream, and curse, but I respected his illness and went with the flow. If he had good health I may not have been as tolerant, as I had an extremely bad temper, which I couldn’t control. One of the major benefits to come out of our meetings was the introduction to my Jamaican family (Who I am still in touch with).

It was at this point my road to recovery took off. My disjointed identity started to piece together. During my first week on my Jamaican sojourn where I was to be re-united with my new family, my father passed away (in London on NOV 4th 1989). I had so many mixed emotions, anger, vexation, confusion, and betrayal. I was too distraught to focus. I’d been robbed! Things were made worse when I had to deal with the aftermath of meeting and losing him in such a short space of time, with no counselling whatsoever. I was a real mess. Like a desert mirage all those years of searching had disappeared in front of my eyes. His wife made it doubly difficult by refusing to let me see my father’s ashes on my return. A sort of payback for his deceit about the child she never knew he had. They’d been married for 16 years.

Even when he found love he lived a lie. Although I never really got a chance to know my father, I developed a real strength of character during his absent years, which made me fiercely independent. My formative years were spent with my natural white mother and bigoted white stepfather, Ted Glynn. This led to major confusions about my identity and sense of where I fitted in. As a person from a  so called ‘mixed race’ background I felt lost, alone, vulnerable, and disaffected. My stepfather and I were not close. Despite never being there for me emotionally, he was actually the only man I ever knew in the capacity as a father figure at that time. He did his best, but at the time I never knew that, and certainly didn’t appreciate it. Not having had a real grounding with an adult man, who I felt loved me enough to teach me about life crushed my self-esteem. I became locked in adolescence well into my late twenties and early thirties. At school I refused to accept my real father was flawed, despite the level of abuse and name calling my so-called friends would give me for not having him around. At school I was too Black for the White kids, not Black enough for the Black kids. I hated being called Half-caste by everyone. I wanted to be like my father, a Black man.

Growing up in a white family without any black input got worse as I craved the love of my black family who were in Jamaica, and didn’t know I existed. It was at this time I discovered a way of covering the pain. I became a clown. Happy on the outside ...sad on the inside, always the life 'n' soul of the party. Keeping my absent father’s memory alive was pure charade, which worked at first, as I never really needed to call upon my emotions to survive. As I hit my late teens it started to affect me the first of many depressions. My inability to talk to about my pain, and the continuing pressure of racism in the home caused me to withdraw and hold my mother responsible for everything. I was in complete denial, brought on by confusion about my identity. I became violent, uncontrollable, and carried hate around like a weapon. I projected my anger at anyone who made me feel vulnerable. I was out of control. Not only did I hate the world at large, but also I couldn’t stand myself. I was determined everyone was going to pay for my predicament.

I remember vividly how submerging myself in work, politics, relationships, and other pursuits cushioned me, enough to falsely convince my mind that everything was fine. I had to wait until my late thirties before the bubble finally burst. One day I had written a full length screenplay and needed a crucial bit of information about my mother and father’s relationship. I asked mum how my father had left her. When she told me I was devastated and broke down. I was no longer able to hide, run scared, or cover things up. I wept endlessly and finally had to come to terms with his act of betrayal in my life. My father was no longer a hero, the person on a pedestal. Instead he had become the man who left me, my mother, and more importantly his responsibility in favour of finding a new life for himself.

Peace

Homicide (www.wcmt.org.uk)

I’m sitting in a large theatre space (Morgan State University) as a delegate at the 1st Baltimore Homicide Victims Conference. Stalls, politicians, support services, combined with a relatively small audience are the order of the day. I was intrigued how a conference would address, inform, and raise awareness towards homicide would play out. Since being here I’ve been exposed to the reality of how the streets can devour young lives for the sake of turf, revenge, retribution, robbery, mistaken identity, hatred, and numerous other reasons. The atmosphere felt quite heavy, not just because of the subject matter, mainly because many of the attendees of the conference were victims of homicide. Myself included, as I had lost several cousin to violence in Jamaica many years ago. I’ve also lived in communities in the UK where lost of life through murder has been on-going for most of my life. A few keynote speakers contextualized the issues, followed by panel members who had all lost loved ones to homicide.

The outpouring of grief was painful, hard to listen to, and at times harrowing for both audience and panel members alike. The other outcome was the way in which the panel’s grief, connected to the audience’s pain, and then it ceased to be a conference, but more of a grieving ritual. Individuals crying, breaking down, struggle to maintain composure reminded you how this type of crime took the human spirit to a place that was so difficult, that you can’t help but wonder how many people coped or didn’t cope with such a tragic event in their lives. The initial new, court case, picking up the pieces, coping strategy, and gap that is left when your loved one is taken from you, confronts the senses with dread, dread, and more dread. Each person talked about the isolation, loneliness, loss of friends, inability to talk about locked in feelings, helplessness, anger, rage, and depression. So many emotions that at times made many feel suicidal and questioning their faith. A belief in God was the corner stone of many of the victims, but even maintaining a spiritual belief became a daily battle, as the cumulative impact of the other emotions at times made little room for spiritual connection.

I thought about all the young people I had met from the streets, those walking around who were not dead, as they had survived a beating, or a shooting. Those who felt their life was futile but were forced to exist in a culture of despair and hopelessness. I then started to reflect on the daily diet of TV shows that were full of glamorizing crime and violence. It then struck me that a lot of what I’ve encountered being here, when it comes to the extreme outcome of violence is many people are suffering from trauma, contrasted with being de-sensitized.

At times the casual acceptance of violence as the only alternative to solving disputes, the lack of sentimentality to the on-going struggles of street warfare, and the jostling for services who can provide solutions, made you feel that this epidemic was part of an industry. Then I started to think about prison, criminal justice, and the system itself. The sheer number of murders, victims, hospital costs for dealing with the victims, the psychological breakdowns, the increase in personal and community anxiety, proliferation of gangs, enforcement, and the list goes on. I then came to the realization that for society homicide is a huge issue; cultural, political, historical, spiritual, and psychological, that has been around from the beginning of time. I left the event feeling grateful for my life, the people that love me, and things that I have. I pledged to myself that this experience would not be forgotten and would drive me to continue to understand the issues, get beyond the rhetoric, and never forgetting the level of human suffering it brings.

Peace

Evidence (www.wcmt.org.uk)

Whilst being here I have been reading and writing a lot. The trip has given me much needed space to document and revise some of my thinking. I was given a journal at Johns Hopkins University on Biomedical and Psychosocial approaches to drug and alcohol dependence, as well as purchasing Gottfredson’s and Hirschi’s ‘A general Theory of crime’. The relevance of my point here is about the importance of evidence. There are so many organisations and community people who have stories to tell, experiencs that can inform debate, discussion, and policy concerns, but in my discussions there is a disconnect between community, academia, and strategic bodies. Nothing new really, but at times it is a hard pill to swallow, knowing that so much needs to be done and can be changed if there were more cohesive ties in the research agenda.

Attending a recent meeting  I was painfully aware of how community services see themselves at data gatherers on behalf of commissioning agencies, but not really part of the evaluation strategy. I do have concerns regarding this unequal union, as communities are ideally placed to not only gather the data, interpret it, as well as providing recommendations to vested interests. It then struck me about notions of power and how it all works. Parents can define the research, undertake it, and with the right resourcing see their tested hypothesis come to fruition with practical results. I would like to see a time when community can research its own needs and influence public, social, and cultural policy.


Inner city Baltimore has an invisible layer of criminal justice casualties; criminals who have desisted from a life of crime, but have themselves become victims of crime. Attempts to leave the gang, beating the court case by informing on others, and community justice in the form of revenge creates more victims. The difference is, these victims have no sympathy from society or community, no free healthcare, or at times, any future. Their lives are ruled by fear, governed by the code of the streets, and create little or no pathway to a new life. However, they do have something to offer in terms of experience that policy makers, researchers, and educators should access as way of understanding some of the complexities that conventional methods fail to explain or even understand.

The prospect of having no money for living, healthcare, food, or personal items, as a consequence of being involved in crime may leave society safer and the community feeling justice has prevailed. However, with the prospect of having absolutely nothing erodes any notion of pride and motivation to return back to a life of law abiding activity. This position results in forcing individuals back to the ‘corners’ as a way surviving and restoring lost pride and status. Little Melvin’s history of criminality and ultimate desistance has relevance for scholars looking at desistance. However, Melvin lives in the Inner city where many researchers fear to tred. This poses a dilemma for an important area of investigation. The need for ethnography and criminal biography is crucial here. Shows like ‘The Wire’, ‘The Soprano’s’, CSI, and so on, seldom use criminological theories as a way of exploring, explaining, and giving insight to the wider community about crime and it’s orientation. A significant gap is identified, but a wider question is raised, ‘are filmmakers the only ones who can attempt to reflect aspects of crime? or should relevant academic disciplines play more of a role in using media to generate ideas?

Ethics are the bedrock of academic research. An important and necessary process of selection of methods to be used in accessing constituents. Thus ensuring objectification in the process. In most cases it requires negotiating access, brokering relationships, and finding formats that will satisfy both the commissioning agency as well as the subjects of the inquiry. In places like Baltimore’s inner city, ethical considerations are no less important, but different. The element of risk has to be carefully balanced against the need to undertake the work required. Gaining access at times is at the discretions of criminals, gang members, or go betweens who make a series of brokered on your behalf. It is important that any researcher undertaking work in a difficult environment make appropriate choices and selections without compromising the outcomes. It is also important not to avoid engaging in these hostile environments on account of protocols that at times should be questioned and challenged.

Peace

Not the same (www.wcmt.org.uk)

We all have differing views about why we do things. At times it is important to try and see a point of view of others for clarity, support, or just openess to being challenged. There are many times I have heard others who will look at a given situation with judgement and argue relentlessly that their point of view is right without considering any other perspective. I myself have been guilty at times of the same behaviour. However, continuous expossure to new things, ideas, people, etc, forces you to have to be more accomodating. There are many experiences I have faced here that if I had read on paper, or heard in passing conversation could have made me look at things through a clouded lens. No more is this apparent than trying to look at and examine crime from inner city young men and women. We all have our views and thoughts about why, without having ever been to those environments that create it or talking to those who are involved in it. This story is for those people who do make judgements without providing the evidence to support their views.

There were two childhood friends who were determined to remain close always. When they were grown, they each married and built their houses facing one another. Just a small path separated them. One day Sankofa the wise man decided to test their friendship and dressed himself in a two-color coat that was divided down the middle, red on the right side and blue on the left side. Wearing this coat, Sankofa walked along the narrow path between the two houses whilst the two friends were each working opposite each other in their fields. He attracted their attention by coughing loudly and made each friend look up from his side of the path at the same time. Sankofa stayed around long enough for them to notice him and then went on his way. At the end of the day, one friend said to the other,

"Wasn't that a beautiful red coat Sankofa was wearing today?"

"No," replied the other. "It was blue."

"I saw Sankofa clearly as he walked between us his coat was red."

"You are wrong!" the second man said. "I saw it too. It was blue."

"I know what I saw!" insisted the first man. "The coat was red."

"You don't know anything," replied the second angrily. "It was blue!"

"So you think I am stupid? I know what I saw,” shouted the first. "It was red!"

"Blue!" the other man said. "Red!"

"Blue!" "Red!" "Blue!"

They began to beat each other and roll around on the ground. Just then Sankofa returned and faced the two friends, who were punching and kicking each other and shouting, "Our friendship is over, we’re finished"
Sankofa walked directly in front of them, displaying his coat. He laughed loudly at their silly fight. The two friends saw that his two-color coat was divided down the middle, blue on the left and red on the right. The two friends stopped fighting and screamed at Sankofa.

"We have lived side by side all our lives like brothers! It is your entire fault that we are fighting! You started a war between us."

"Don't blame me for the battle," said Sankofa, "I did not make you fight. Both of you are wrong. And both of you are right. Yes, what each one said was true! You are fighting because you only looked at my coat from your own point of view."

Sankofa walked away leaving the two friends to reflect on their actions.

Peace

Dear Baltimore (www.wcmt.org.uk)

A police station interview room. A young African American man is handcuffed to a table, whilst ex African American police chief Howard ‘Bunny’ Colvin, stands in the corner firing questions, designed to get the young man to furnish answers around a rage of fictitious scenario’s. Into the mix we have a White researcher, Professor David Parenti, who attempts to take copious notes on the same table where the youth sits. It is clear that the White researcher is using the ex police chief as a ‘broker’ designed to get the young African American man to open up. The barrage of questions combined with the intrusion of Parenti’s bungling attempt to gain insight into the young man’s life erupts into a violent confrontation, where the young man, who is clearly a victim, is forcibly restrained. The scene described is from series three of groundbreaking HBO series ‘The Wire’, where the outcome is disastrous when the researchers desire to gather data outweighs his understanding of the young man’s social reality. Needless to say the interview is terminated, the White researcher was shocked out of his system, and the ex-police chief’s cynicism in research grew. The sad part of the whole scenario was that what could have been an important insight into inner city deprivation, black criminality, and black rage, was missed because of a methodological error. As fans of cult US television series The Wire will know, Baltimore is portrayed as a city with problems; racial divisions, corruption, gang- and drug-related violence and the effects of social deprivation on every level of society. Does art really imitate life?

Lexington Market:
My guide and support Ted arrives at midday and takes me to Lexington market, a space teeming with stalls and masses of people talking, sharing, a long established community with a long history. At first glance you get the feeling that this is just like any other market day, where the community it out in force doing its daily shopping. It’s a powerful place to be, where all sorts of people are jammed into the building; eating, talking, planning, and observing. Ted explains this is the place to find stuff out on what’s happening on the streets. His reflections of his time spent here remind me that this space at times has been fraught with uneasy tensions, unpredictable behaviours, and conflict. On leaving I see an elderly woman, who is on drugs, begs, and is in a continuous state of decline. A usual and often occurrence Ted assures me.

City Springs Academy:
As the downtown skyline disappears I find myself outside City Springs Academy. We are let in and are face to face with a group of young men aged 14. All African American, all from the inner city, and all involved in a leadership programme run by a one of Ted’s mentees Bredon. Ted introduces himself, then me. For about an hour we swap stories, anecdotes, and in general make a connection with them. When the young men begin to share their testimonies words like fear, loss, drugs, violence, guns, gangs, and fatherlessness cascade like a waterfall. In spite of their outward confidence, these young men are living in extreme circumstances, trying to survive. I reflected on my own son, grandson and tried to imagine how they would get on here. The paradox of such a thought was on the one hand I would like them to be exposed to this situation as a learning curve, but in reality I was happy that they weren’t. An American football style huddle brought the session to a close and we were off to our next destination.

The Projects:
The term "project" is a much used term by African American comedians, but in actuality inner city housing that gives rise to tension, anger, drugs, and violence is no joke. Similar in size and stature as in the UK, these estates feel more daunting because of their awesome reputation. Ted tells me about how they came about, the politics of social landscaping, and his frustration in poor city planning. I can’t disagree with him. I look at the people who live here, pushed to extreme limits of frustration know that their social mobility is almost fixed with little chance of escape. I didn’t like the environment, as people with no room to breathe will exhale, usually with dangerous outcomes. However, the sense of community spirit was as strong as could be in light of the situation that most found themselves in. As we left the area I came face to face with D.C.C., aka Diagnostic Correctional Centre. A large prison, with a large population, inside a large city. On this hot day here I was sweating, I thought about the prisoners. The acceptance that little could be done for those in a city where life expectancy was low, and worse of all prison is a year round, 24/7 reality for section of the community, who spend more time in this monstrous building than they do with their children, friends, family and community.

Park Heights:
Driving through Park Heights again I meet an 8 year old boy who I am told had been selling drugs to provide for his family. He is cute, riding a bike, voice hasn’t broken, yet he is a seasoned young look out, drug dealer, and provider for his family. I’m saddened at seeing him, and even more upset knowing that school offers no prospect of assisting him to find a new future. More importantly his childhood has all but gone, before he has started his journey in life. A terrible feeling, imagine what it must be like for him.

Two young men:
I’m back at Little Melvin’s flea market, and enterprise that is open 24 hours a day, accompanied by a food stall, and clothes shop. Like the Wire there is a boxing gym, half built, complete with trainer and raw recruits. I learn from this community stalwart that no-one is allowed to box unless they improve their education. A great slogan ‘No hooks, without books’. As class begins to start I move to one side and let them get on with it. Outside I get a drink and am called over to meet two young men. One young man boasts about his tattoos, whilst the other describes an attack at the local shopping mall on his way from school. Both 15, both out there on the streets, and both telling me like it is. It’s painful to hear their stories. One of the young men describes the pain of losing 13 of his friends to murder, a similar number comes up for the other one. I ask them what is the single most important thing they need in their lives right now. Their heads drop, no smiles, just a sharp intake of breath, followed by the same request ‘I’d like my friends to come back’. I felt gutted, inadequate, and unable to grasp the enormity of the pain they were carrying at that moment in time. I reflected again on my own children, knowing these guys didn’t have a father between them. I told them to stay strong, gave them a hug, and asked Ted to take me home.

Full circle:
Art may impersonate life, but life is real, not constructed, slickly edited, and can be switched off at any time. Once again I’m both moved and saddened by what I’ve experienced today. In saying that everyone I did meet, was resilient, didn’t feel sorry for themselves, and never played the victim. Life was short and in many cases brutal. They were determined to live it the best way possible. A lesson learned. Be grateful for what you have.

Peace

We Wear the Mask (www.wcmt.org.uk)

We Wear the Mask by Paul Laurence Dunbar (1872-1906)
We wear the mask that grins and lies,
It hides our cheeks and shades our eyes,--
This debt we pay to human guile;
With torn and bleeding hearts we smile,
And mouth with myriad subtleties
Why should the world be otherwise?
In counting all our tears and sighs?
Nay, let them only see thus, while
We wear the mask.
We smile, but, O great Christ, our cries
To thee from tortured souls arise.
We sing, but oh the clay is vile
Beneath our feet, and long the mile;
But let the world dream otherwise,
We wear the mask!

For me, Dunbar’s poem  is a metaphor for what I’m experiencing here in the US and the UK. The community doesn’t have the resources, the academy doesn’t have the solutions, and the public services don’t have the insights. Somehow the partnering of this trinity is supposedly the answer. The reality is far from the ideal of collective working for social and cultural change. The sheer weight and scale of the problems means that whoever controls the resources pushes the agenda forward. Dunbar mentions ‘We wear the mask that grin and lies’, a truism if ever there was one. When we are all looking for a justification for our ideas and validation of our thinking, we are all colluding with creating the illusion of real change.

As I look at the streets and observe the disparities between the races, the poor, the young, and so on, there are so many masks being worn, that it’s hard to see a unified position that we can all occupy and feel equal. How we prioritise need, determine who should get the benefits, or receive something to help solve a problem is so subjective and loaded against those who are powerless, disaffected, and at the margins of society. Dunbar talks about tortured souls. There are many tortured souls out there whose mask has fallen off and we can see who they really are. I have been humbled, felt inadequate, and have had to ask myself several deep searching questions about the morals and ethics about what we do as professionals, academics, and public servants. Engaging with disaffected people is not just about policy statements, focus groups, or trying to prove a hypothesis. It's about service, purpose, and assisting those in most need to feel someone cares.

Therefore, there is a need to question who is really wearing the mask.

Deficit (www.wcmt.org.uk)

A staple of inner city survival is what psychologist Richard Majors calls ‘Cool Pose’. Basically, developing notions of ‘street cool’ masks the deeper issues bubbling below the surface for many young black men in Baltimore. The swagger, attitude, and intimidating presence of these young street warriors distorts the underlying fears, anxieties, and challenges they face on a daily basis. The all too familiar individual stories of social neglect, lack of educational opportunities and different life chances has created a fatalistic generation. These young men are not borne into privilege, awaiting inheritances, or in some cases have a guaranteed future. They are part of a generation struggling to do what society asks of them.

Their assertive postures, brashness, and lively personalities, makes you realise how strong they are, contrasted with the vulnerability of uncertainty. Listening to them it’s easy to forget that they live in a restricted environment, face oppressive forces such as gang culture, and are constantly exposed to a crumbling inner city infrastructure, all neatly wrapped around a public service agenda whose vested interests compete for the valuable data they provide for policy makers and practitioners alike. Anger has become a central focus based on the cumulative deficits and negative encounters they have experienced throughout their lives. In has become evident that the word ‘Rage’ has now replaced ‘Anger’ and has become part of their current vocabulary. The cumulative impact of social problems, identity concerns, combined with a general sense of hopelessness & despair has pushed many young people to limits of anger that is harmful to them, their peers, their families, as well as the community.

It is true that there are many books, programmes, workshops, and activities designed to discharge and eject anger from our lives, but in order to access those resources, one first has to be accessed. Another feature of the responses from some young people I have met here in Baltimore is that of  ‘Silent anger’. The sort of anger that bubbles just below the surface and hides in the shadows of their sub-conscious. At times this type of anger goes unnoticed, unchecked, and is not detectable. If triggered or released the outcome is detrimental to friends and family who have to pick up the pieces once the bomb has exploded. A frightening aspect and by product of young men’s anger and rage is the restrictions it places on their learning. Many young men are struggling to find a sense of purpose within their families, schools, and community, and believe that peers provide them with what they need. The continuing desire to join a gang, engage in anti-social behaviour and risky lifestyles, combined with the need to carry a weapon as a form of protection has become the norm for many of these young men, who are not big, bad, and dangerous, but scared, frightened, and lost in a world that increasingly is rendering many of their aspirations obsolete.

The vast majority of these young men are functioning, positive, and healthy. However, at the tail end there is chaos, mayhem, and turmoil. The need for a father and to experience positive fathering is on an epidemic scale, and should be treated as a public health issue. All of the young men spoken to had absent fathers who were not around for a whole series of reasons. The impact of this area of young men’s lives cannot be underestimated or ignored. Once again there are many books, research reports, programmes, activities, workshops, conferences, and seminars designed to improve and address this situation, but research would suggest that many of those young men have ‘opted out’ from wanting to address their feelings on this issue, and find solace in their crew and extended peer group. For some young men the issue of ‘being a man’ is a continued problem. It is evident that many of their fathers left the relationship and handed over the responsibility for being ‘the man of the house’ to the son, who is ill equipped to deal with such a role. However, the need to protect mum and show family leadership has placed many young men in a role that at times brings them into conflict with mum’s new partner. This makes matters worse as it compounds the isolation of some young men who cannot actualise their own sense of masculine identity. The young man, who loves his absent father, may choose to defend his father’s honour. The result is more chaos, confusion, and possible conflict. If we don’t address this deficit then the implications will have devastating consequences.

Peace

Community development (www.wcmt.org.uk)

In a previous blog entitled ‘Community Engagement’ I concluded by stating ‘Owning and controlling the means of production and distribution of your own identifiable needs has to be a core priority for communities if they are to survive in diminishing resource environment.’ The intent behind this statement is to begin to unpack the uncomfortable truth behind my statement. In a time of uncertainty, diminishing resources, and on-going changes within the social and cultural infrastructure, how can communities take a more active role in not only determining their own needs, but actually bring those aspirations to fruition? David Miller of the Urban Youth Institute has repeatedly challenged me in this area, emphasizing that the development of an autonomous model, rooted within both a community and business model. The emphasis here is on the word model. Most of what I’ve experienced in my life has been addressing and responding to models of practice, ideas, development, etc that have previously existed. Seldom has there been space, time, resources to consider the design, development, implementation of a contemporary approach to this issue.

Having attended the Johns Hopkins Centre for Teen violence prevention and read its core objectives, I’m convinced that there is the possibility of framing a model that could with the right strategy could bring some different results to the way communities are currently served in the UK. In deed the recent Government’s position on wanting to enable communities to take more of an active role in shaping their needs provides less of a challenge, but more of an opportunity, if cutbacks in central and local Government provision is going to diminish.

As I have seen here many communities can with the right model be more in control of their own destiny. In the case of Johns Hopkins there is a definite commitment for the University to work with communities, leaders, public bodies, and so on, to encourage wider participation in local democracy, and to quote ‘mobilise residents, and researchers to craft effective solutions for violence prevention tailored to suit their specific needs’. It is my view and passion to extend that objective, by presenting an adapted version. I do feel that Universities have a responsibility to play an objective coordinating role in terms of providing steer on community need. However, the weakness of that position is rooted in the historical legacy of disconnectedness that Universities have with communities. It is also evident that communities who have been researched on and not with for many years, have a healthy skepticism about University need to engage communities outside of their own research agenda. The politics of social and cultural change would also suggest that liberal university departments are still at the mercy of political decisions that can restrict their involvement within the community.

In today’s evidence based culture public services can place an enormous burden on community services that may not be geared up to deliver programmes alongside conducting the kind of critical evaluations required to justify their funding. It is also true that University departments who can provide the evidence are also not ideally placed to deliver the outcomes of their investigations. What is clear is ‘gathering, understanding, and interpreting’ data for the purpose of improving, changing, or challenging the status quo is an important process, as part of social and cultural change. As the Director of the Johns Hopkin’s Centre for the Prevention of Youth Violence reminds me “One thing is to know what to do, the thing is to know how to do it”.

What is aso required  is to create the time to consult with the community, edit accordingly, and then build some structure around the framework? A community activist in Baltimore encouraged me to not just think outside the box, but dare to be different in terms of auctioning any ideas I come up with. One day I hope to prove him right.

Peace

The Wire - Holla for a minute (www.wcmt.org.uk)

The past few days have been emotional, taxing, and incredibly powerful. Like most people who hear the word Baltimore, the association with HBO’s groundbreaking drama ‘The Wire’ are interconnected and drive many people I know to develop a thirst for the show. Like most people I have consumed the series and wondered if my time here would enable me to see if Art did imitated life in Baltimore. What happened at this point could not be scripted, made up, or even planned for.

Life in the game – Melvin Williams AKA Little Melvin
I’m with Dr Phil on my way to met Melvin Williams aka ‘Little Melvin’. Melvin was described as Baltimore’s drug King Pin during the 70’s and 80’s, did a long prison sentence, and starred in the ‘Wire’ as the wise Deacon. Although Melvin’s reputation preceded him I had no expectations other than a chance to meet someone who had contribution to crime, making and losing a fortune, as well as becoming the stuff of legend. As we approached I saw a tall, slim, elderly looking man posing for a photograph. Somehow I felt it was him. I was correct. This guy who I had watched on the ‘Wire’ was standing in front of me. After a brief introduction I was taken into a facility he had developed to help the community’s children. A large complex, boasting a basketball court, weights gym, boxing ring, a karate dojo, plus a huge second hand furniture warehouse gives you a sense off the scale of the space.

Melvin’s greeting, charm, wit, extreme fitness and wisdom was staggering as it was insightful. At the height of his empire Melvin had amassed a fortune of over half a billion dollars. As I listened to him I was amazed as his power of recollection, ability to critique his past, as well as providing me with a history lesson on crime. Melvin did not glorify, celebrate, or make excuses for his past. His time in prison, witnessing and participating in crime, combined with lessons learned reminded me of the importance of understanding those who have committed crime, as a way of drawing new meanings and insights into a world that gets people a degree, enables scholars to write books, and documentary makers, films. It was hard to believe that that this small man had done what he had done, and was comfortable with sharing his stories as opposed to a prison cell. In talking to him I discovered that in the ‘Wire’ Melvin was the inspiration behind the character Avon Barksdale.

Exciting as that was it was more significant to hear from the man himself about his life and times that consuming the mythology that surrounds him. Historically Melvin was dangerous, a true leader of gangland Baltimore, who at the age of 15 was a pool hustler, card and dice player, and rich. His graduation into a life of crime and subsequent incarceration is truly remarkable. Melvin’s sharp thinking and ability to share his wisdom with the community he has helped, in spite of his past, reminds me of something very special. He is a wise elder, a reformed criminal, and has served both as a demon and a hero to many. As I leave Melvin I can’t help but wonder if it was all worth it. To have so much wealth and lose it, would have deeply affected most people in Melvin’s position. However, he casually accepts he got into crime, and more importantly he got out of it. The need to both understand and learn about Melvin burned deep inside, as a lot of the young men I saw running up and down the streets of Baltimore are Melvin’s in the making. I couldn’t help but wonder if they knew his story intimately whether that choice would still be an option?

Ted
As we are about to leave Doctor Phil hands me the phone and I’m talking to Ted Sutton. His greeting is warm and the offer of a meeting is made. Phil says Ted is someone who I should meet and spend time with. I was curious as to what would lie in store for me. I agree to meet up and wait for a call. The following day I’m picked up by a large car by Ted. Ted, a huge man, with an even bigger smile, greets me in a friendly and caring manner. As we drove off Ted begins to share his narrative, and reveals Melvin to be his mentor and close friend. I learn that Ted is an ex-strong arm man (Enforcer), who has participated in many acts of violence and crime, and like Melvin works on behalf of the community, as a gang mediator, mentor, and has a serious mission to save the lives of the hardest to access young men in Baltimore. Ted breaks it down in detail, from street warfare, gangs, crime, and more importantly how he found God. Ted talks about his family consisting of Civil rights activists, members of the Black Panther party, and an array of powerful elders in his life all connected for changing people’s lives. Ted tells me that being the middle child with an older and younger sibling pushed him into a life of darkness and crime. The multiple deaths of his friends, constant street battles, and fear of incarceration culminated in being acquitted in a profiled court case and undergoing a faith based conversion all at the same time.

The conversation is broken as we end up at a small apartment block. Ted tells me here is a young gang member who is in trouble and is looking to get out of the lifestyle. A young black emerges, climbs onto the van and exhales loudly as if deep pain. A phone call brings bad news. This young man was not happy, but also suffering from a deeper sense of insecurity, as he feels that no-one care for him. Being face to face with this young gang member was at first quite frightening. Not because he was a gang member, but a young man who was in a volatile state of mind. Ted spoke to him for a while, calming him down with reassuring words and a soothing tone. It was then Ted handed over to me and I began to engage him in conversation and anecdotes. In spite of numerous phone calls coming through, this young man listened and reciprocated with his own stories and testimony. I saw someone who was my daughter’s age caught in an impossible situation.

A gang member, with no health insurance, money, job, or available means of support trying to do what society wants. To be compliant, law abiding, and trying to embrace a new lifestyle. What wasn’t happening is that same society being able to show him a way of achieving it. I discover he can draw. I give him a copy of my new children’s book. He is amazed that someone has given him something. For a brief minute he is no longer a menace to society, but someone in desperate need of love, and was given something unconditionally. Researchers and community people alike all want to gain insights and understandings as to why young men join gangs and how can we change their fortunes and make the community a safer place. I looked at Ted and saw the answer. Access is via skilled mediators who the hard to access both trust and love. In Ted I saw a powerful advocate for street brokers, in the young man I saw extreme loss and a need to be welcomed back into a community he has terrorised. We embraced, I said goodbye and wished him well. We were off again. Ted tells me it’s all in a day’s work.

Ted shows me a new facility he has created that will act as a half way home, therapy centre, and safe space for gang members trying to get out of the chaotic lifestyles they are leading. It is truly impressive and a testimony to another individual who has turned his back on crime and uses his real lived experience as a conduit for changing other people’s lives. Ted’s own story is tinged with loss, sadness, and a search for identity. Luckily he found one, others don’t. The conversation moves backwards and forwards like a piston. Never playing the victim, Ted recounts losing friends, hurting people, and how his change has given him purpose. At that moment we became real friends and not just professionals engaged in sharing techniques and methods. Ted suggests we go for something to eat. A short while later, we are at a large complex referred to as ‘The Black Mall’. Namely, because the clientele, owners of the stores, and the general ethos is purely African American.

First sight, 4 police cars attending a crime scene at a school nearby reminded me that this space has a history of conflict. Being surrounded purely by black people is at times a strange feeling compared to the UK. Unless you’re in the Caribbean it is highly unlikely to experience the density of non white people in such a concentrated space. I enjoyed it, but couldn’t help thinking about the young guy I had just met. In this Mall people had money, were eating, and generally there was a thriving economy. On the other hand there were so many people who were excluded or couldn’t be included here, that I wondered what it would be like to come here and have no money. This was both and affluent and economically driven environment that would send shockwaves to poor people, who I can imagine would be driven to despair if they couldn’t access the goods and services on offer. I thought of young black people in the UK walking up and down shopping centres in the same way, window shopping, walking with a swagger, and trying to cope with all the pressures of a society that excludes them so much. Once again legions of young people acknowledge Ted, as someone who comes into their school, homes, community, in fact any space where his services are required. He shares a story of entering a burning building to rescue people. A remarkable feat by a remarkable man. After a meal of chicken and fries, we’re off again on another mission, to go and see someone in an area called Park Heights.

Park Heights is a typical inner city area full of deprivation, despair, and hopelessness. As Ted drives me around the community, there is an uneasy air of tension. People sitting outside their houses talking, children on bikes, and other getting on with life. So why should it feel so fearful? Ted tells me the history of the area, what goes on, and says that this area is his patch. His description of the violence in the area manifests in me meeting with one of his young mentees. A young man who in attempt to get out the gang had been beaten up, shot, and left him a worse state. Glazed eyes, slurred speech, and a slight limp, shows me this young guy is in severe pain both physically and emotionally. Initially, he is quite distant as he doesn’t know me. Ted vouches for me and he begins to talk freely and smile. I realise that access to these young men in granted, not based on your status, money, or education. It is based on connecting to their pain and the world in which they occupy. Ted spends a while talking to this young guy about his well-being and how he is coping. Internally I’m feeling sad, upset, and impacted by a young guy who has done what society asks, come out the gang, but have been left with nothing. Like an abandoned child with no mother. He may be law abiding, but like the previous young gang member, he has no money, no job, little education, a prison record and a difficult future to face. A few moments later, we’re off on another mission. Leaving Park Heights I ask a difficult question ‘How did people get to this state? And how does one of the world’s richest places create the conditions for people to merely exists and survive?

Blood
Night has descended, me and Ted are in a car park, face to face with a man sporting a red bandana. My first encounter with a member of the ‘Bloods’ gang is surreal, challenging, and insightful. Being granted an audience with him, followed by a meeting I will never forget was one of the most powerful experiences of my life. He was charismatic, intelligent, and truly a leader. The conversation did not focus on gangs, but more on fatherhood and society in general. The mixture of fear and exhilaration ran through my veins. This was no film set, it was real. 30 minutes later I was sitting in Ted’s car, whilst he and ‘the blood’ talked. I observed Ted brokering, negotiating, and mediating with skill and commitment. I was truly impressed not only by Ted’s unswerving commitment to trying to make Baltimore a better place, but the gang member’s openness to reasoning and dialogue. Be under no illusion, any US gang member affiliated to the Crips and the Bloods is not a saint. However, they are men and fathers, who have made a choice that many find offensive, scary, and wrong.

Be that as it may, they exist alongside us, occupying the same space, going to the same shops, taking their kids to school, and trying to survive in their own way. We can all have an opinion, view or judgement as to what is right and wrong. What I would say until you have stood face to face with someone like the guy I have just met, we will continue to believe the hype and moral panic that surrounds gang culture. Yes they are menacing individuals that have done all sorts of stuff. The truth is the solution for changing them will not be found in more incarceration, biased media coverage, or ignoring their existence. Gangs are a complex social phenomenon that requires more than just rhetorical posturing to sort it out. I don’t have the solution, but what I did learn today, it starts with dialogue. But first you have to gain access. That access was created by Ted. The sad fact remains there are many guys like Ted, who don’t get paid, supported, and validated for what they do. Yet he saves as many lives as any paramedic or surgeon.

After 12 hours on the road Ted says his will drop me home. Suddenly 5 White police officers arresting a young black women forces Ted to stop, pull over, take out a video camera and record what they’re doing. Ted archives stuff that happens on the streets as his want to make a documentary on the abuses that take place on a regular basis. Low and behold it is taking place opposite Little Melvin’s shop front. We stop off and talk with Little Melvin for about an hour before making our way home. I am thoroughly exhausted and take several hours to reground myself. What a day.

Education
Saturday morning. I’m with Dr Phil and Jonathan Byrce, the Executive Director of the Office of Student Support and safety for the Baltimore City Public schools system. We discuss the issues surrounding student’s safety, violence, bullying, and a raft of other issues that affect the pupils in Baltimore. The sheer scale of the problem is highlighted when Jonathan informs me about the array of assaults, weapons, and conflicts that have taken place in the city’s schools in the first few days of pupils returning back to schools. Our conversation goes backwards and forwards, centring on the problems, possible solutions, barriers, fears, and a whole host of issues. I find myself being emotional and responding both as a father and academic. It is clear that there are gaps to be filled in making the system better. I’m just not clear who is best placed to undertake such a task or whether the commitment to such an operation is viable bearing in mind the complexities of providing a balanced education for all young people.

Deprivation, crime, assaults, children with multiple problems, were at the core of the problems, but the desire to get children educated seemed to outweigh the common sense principle of ensuring the well-being of children came first. I found myself back in the UK in my head. The same problem, approached in the same way with the same outcome. I walked away from the meeting clear that an educational solution would not solve this educational problem. It was deeper than that. This wasn’t about education. It was about the child who is scared to walk to school, the child who has had no breakfast, the child who’s fathers in prison and mother’s on drugs, the child with a gun or knife, the child who is dyslexic, the child who taking care of their family by having to work at nights, more importantly it’s about expectations and who manages them. As a researcher I felt good knowing there were issues I could investigate, as a father I felt empty. I shook hands with Jonathan and wished him luck with his future work. Myself and Phil were off to a funeral.

Funeral
A young man lies in an open casket, legions of his friends cry, holding their pain in whilst family members go through the motions of losing a loved one. What made this funeral different was not the ritual send off which is at the core of black funerals. This funeral was that of a murder victim, murdered at a school reunion the week before. I learn it was gang related. Hence the legion of young men sporting blue standing outside. The young man was associated with the Crips, the rival gang to the bloods. The members of his crew were connected to him, not his immediate family. A sad fact but true. This funeral was no ordinary funeral. It was one of many that happened so frequently, that it was a mere formality. Everyone paid their last respects, but expressed outrage as to the way in which his demise took place. I look around at the young men wearing blue, possibly armed, and in a stage of rage and revenge. The energy doesn’t feel good. I thought about Ted and all the young people I’d met the previous day. I reflected on Melvin and how a lot of these guys wanted to be like him. I then thought of my own children and grandchildren and felt despondent. This funeral was less of a send off and more of a celebration of a young man who made it into the dark side of immortality. Someone who will be remembered not for raising his children, getting a degree, or changing the lives of young people. He will be remembered for being murdered. I felt upset and left feeling worse than I did before I arrived.

Pit Bull
At home I get a call from Ted who swings around to come and see me. A young man hobbles out of his car and is introduced to me. This young man was shot in the neck, paralysed from the neck downwards, and miraculously made a full recovery. However, this young man is emotionally scarred by the experience, in turmoil, and barely functioning. Unable to cope with having a discussion he retreats the safety of Ted’s car. Ted recounts the young man’s history of crime and how he is has become yet another casualty of the social breakdown in Baltimore. I felt sad and impacted by the plight of this young man felt compelled to connect to him. A few moments later we were laughing and joking, sharing stories of Star Trek, and engaging in some uplifting dialogue. However, I could see in this guys eyes the kind of pain and terror that I had no connection to. Seeing him was the culmination of 48 hours of the most exacting period of my life. A relentless amount of interactions with extreme stories of powerless and loss. I didn’t feel good or take any comfort about being a criminologist who could shed some light on these matters. What really happened is I was confronted with an ugly truth; we are either part of the problem or part of the solution. Today I reframed my purpose in life and reaffirmed my commitment to being part of the solution. I thank my deceased mother for making me compassionate. Thanks mum.

Peace.

Black men (www.wcmt.org.uk)

7 black men sit in a room; a community activist, sociologist, a criminologist, a philosopher, a scientist, an educationalist, and a social worker. They are all there to discuss one thing how can black men become better fathers. After 4 hours of tense debate, analysis, and discussion, they cannot find common agreement as to the solution. The meeting ends. No solution but each man thinks he is right and goes away feeling happy with their contribution. A week later a young man is shot, several fathers go to prison, several women are victims of domestic violence, a range of young people are suspended from school, and the community begins to fragment and implode on itself. The same 7 black men meet again to discuss what can be done. For the first time in a long time they are forced to confront a painful truth. Namely, don’t hide behind professional labels.

Kevin Powell’s new book of essays by various writers has a chapter that focuses on ‘Redefining black manhood’. The continuing need to address who we are as men, fathers, and sons should be on-going, constantly looked at and worked upon. One size does not fit all, but the desire to feel well, useful, have a role in community, raise the family, and so on are common goals for all of us to attain. However, black men have been defined on so many levels by the gaze of other people’s expectations that we have forgotten who we are and who we want to be. We spend so much time telling others ‘who not to be’ ‘what not to do’, that we miss out on promoting what we could be, should be and in many cases are. We’ve become so used to having conferences, seminars, workshops, and a host of interactive spaces to debate black men’s identity, ways of being, and so forth, that we seldom validate each other for just being able to smile, have fun, and live a normal life. Black men encounter problems, but we ourselves should not define our reality as being ‘problem men’. Clyde Forde when writing in ‘The Hero with an African face’ uses terms to describe contemporary black life such as ‘painful’ ‘despairing’ ‘scary’ ‘difficult’ ‘harsh’. He then goes on to show that the ability to overcome and survive in the face of adversity and oppression is heroic and should be celebrated. So my call is not for every black man to become the same, but to recognise you have the power within you not only to do great things, but to define things according to your needs, not those of other vested interests.


Peace

Too much: (www.wcmt.org.uk)

In the baking heat of the Baltimore sun a constant recurring thought continues to plague my mind. How can I become so immune to the daily violent occurrences in the community. Since being here the violence has been high. In spite of the shocking nature of these crimes, the frequency of occurrence deadens the emotions. The television reporting of murder presents the facts of the cases, without any real sense of emotion. However, you do witness the outpouring of anger, grief and sadness coming from victims, but it still feels surreal. A few murders that stick in my mind are one committed by a young woman aged 13, a case of a robbery gone wrong. A hate crime involving a young African American man who claimed he was motivated by his crime purely based on his hatred of Mexican people. An even more surprising murder focused on a church pastor who hired a hit man to kill a mentally ill man on account of an insurance scam. On first arrival it was frightening, but as time goes on it feels different. It’s not a passive acceptance of extreme behavior, but it feels like a coping strategy for deep feelings of loss.

One morning on Television I am bombarded with images of the 5th anniversary of Hurricane Katrina, the floods in Pakistan, the worsening economic crisis, contrasted with zillions of adverts pushing burgers, cosmetics, cars, electronic devices, and a host of other products that are designed to cushion the blow from dealing with the reality of inner city life. The functioning of US media definitely numbs the senses towards the wider issues of social, cultural, and spiritual importance. When I am down town in tourist mode I enjoy the environment like going to a large fun fair, safety, fast food, and relaxation acts as a form of screen saver.

The contrasting images of inner city reality consisting of boarded up houses, community survival, and individuals try to cope in difficult circumstances, probably explains why the trivial aspects of US society is appealing. It provides a strange balance of the senses. However, once you scrape off the froth, you can see the substance underneath. I’ve decided I don’t want to be in denial or be desensitized to things going around. Why? Quite simply, I have a conscience. I can’t take on every problem or solve every problem, but those victims, perpetrators, those living in impossible conditions, and anyone who is affected by decisions beyond their control, could all be me. I am them, they are me. If I ignore what is taking place for the sake of my own personal comfort, then I will be living with a sense of false consciousness. As I conclude this moment, I realize that the media succeeded for a brief moment in disabling my desire to see significant change within communities. However, I’m back to reality, not believing the hype, and even more committed to ensuring these terrible moments I’ve encountered don’t slip into my sub-conscious never to surface again.

Peace