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
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