The backstories of Sakran and Pep couldn’t be more different. But their survivor stories drive their activism about the public health threat that gun violence poses and prove what some of the most alarming news headlines increasingly suggest: Almost anybody, almost anywhere, is a potential victim of gun violence.
Adrift after his father was shot and killed during an argument with a man at a Jacksonville, Fla. bar, then 14-year-old Robert LeCount spent several years burnishing his reputation as a drug-dealer and star athlete.
“We had football rivalry, we had basketball rivalry, we had baseball rivalry. That's how we dealt with a lot of things. Our energy was in the sports and in different activities.” said LeCount, now 63, a Disciples of Christ pastor whose son, then 22, was shot in their Florida hometown in 2003.
JACKSONVILLE, Florida — Rosie Brooks has experienced both of a mother’s worst nightmares involving gun violence. Her son spent a decade behind bars for an accidental shooting in which a young woman was killed. Then, instead of a joyous reunion when he was released from prison in January 2018, it was a day of mourning. He went from behind bars to standing at his mother’s side at his sister’s funeral. Brooks’ daughter Sahara Barkley had been shot on New Year’s Day at a gas station.
As Latinx and Black Americans experience highly disproportionate rates of coronavirus infections, mainstream and progressive commentators correctly conclude that conditions of poverty, including cramped living and working spaces, forced returns to work and less access to quality health care, are responsible for higher case counts in communities of color. When new infections shifted strongly from racially diverse, Democrat-voting to mostly white, Republican-voting states this summer, commentators issued political criticisms but refrained from suggesting innate cognitive or moral problems, even as media reports showed unmasked crowds flouting public health standards. For more information on JJIE Hub Newly Added Resources, go to JJIE Resource Hub | Newly Added Resources
Contrast that restraint with the mass blame game that ensued when coronavirus cases rose among young people. Commentators as diverse as California’s Democratic Gov. Gavin Newsom, Florida’s Republican Gov. Ron DeSantis, MSNBC host Chris Hayes, Dr. Irwin Redlener, New York Times reporters and scores of others hurled epithets such as “selfish,” “reckless,” “partying” and delusional “invincibility” at teenagers and college-age adults to charge them with moral and cognitive defects.
Why the abrupt, often angry change in tone when those infected were young rather than black, brown or older white adults? After all, many of the same challenging conditions apply to young people that apply to people of color.
Young people’s risks for certain behaviors derive from their much higher poverty rates compared to older Americans, not innate recklessness.
It’s about time someone wrote a book that informs readers about the unadulterated truth of how we treat kids in America. It isn’t flattering, and worse, the future doesn’t look promising despite reform movements peppered across our nation.
Jane Guttman’s “Kids in Jail: A Portrait of Life Without Mercy” gives poetic voice to children who are trapped in the catacombs of society with little hope of resurrection. It is a gut-wrenching, graceful and dignified look at lives that are painfully scarred by conditions and circumstances that were preordained out of neglect, abuse, poverty, chance or a combination of all these elements.
You can only find the entrance to the RightWay Foundation if you’re really looking for it. Hidden deep within the parking structure for a South Central Los Angeles...
It wasn’t until I had gotten locked up at the age of 18 that I began to willingly learn and deeply care about governmental law and politics. If you’d asked me anything about politics back in my high school days, I would’ve rudely responded with an answer expressing love only for my gang.