| Finding courage amid chaos of homicides March 9, 2005 Alizabeth Showers is not yet 21 and already she yearns for innocence. This is what losing two friends to homicide does to a young person. It cuts their childhood in half and breaks their heart into a million pieces that can never quite come together again. A hopelessness settles in early that some youths can overcome, while others succumb. Showers is not one to succumb. She recently spoke about her sorrows and hopes on the radio show "Flava," on WTCC 90.7 FM. It's hosted by Darryl Moss and Kenneth Downes, two men who talk the talk and walk the walk. They are radio hosts and outreach workers, on the frontlines of the civil war that is claiming mostly young black and Latino youths, working tirelessly to show armed hot-headed boys how to reach for peaceful solutions. A couple of my colleagues, Bea Dewberry and Azell Murphy Cavaan, and our boss, Marie Grady, were guests recently on "Flava" with Showers and other youths to talk about a series recently published in The Republican called "Youth in Crisis." The idea, or better said, the need, for the series sprang from the bloody streets of Springfield, where national statistics on young black and Latino men are mirrored on streets by the names of State, Maple, Bristol, Dwight and others. Among many struggling cities nationwide, Springfield isn't by far the most violent. There are cities where even more young people are losing their lives and far-off battlefields where the young die every day in war. But, as Showers said the other night, even one life lost is too many. How many lives must be lost before the heart of a city is broken? Last year the devil came knocking on the doors of just under a dozen men here, mostly young, Latino and black, and armed them with knives, tight fists and guns. Then the devil uncoiled their rage, pushed them into madness, and 16 men and one woman, again, mostly black and Latino, perished. What did the devil say? "Look at the look he's giving you! Shoot him." "Look at him walking on your sidewalk! Kill him." "You want drugs? Sacrifice that quiet middle-aged store owner. Stab him." In one incident, four boys, the youngest of whom was 14, kicked to death an 18-year-old. And, particularly hideous, a 13-year-old boy was arrested for sexually assaulting and punching to death a 3-year-old. As Sheila Shepard has said in a quiet and elegant voice that belies her unimaginable pain, both the killer and the killed die in times like these. One may be buried in the ground, but the other is buried alive, locked in a cell for decades to come. Shepard holds onto the ashes of her twin sons Darnell and Daylan, both of whom were killed at the age of 19 last year. Darnell was shot repeatedly in a crowded bar. No one has fingered the shooter. Police believe Daylan may have been shot just because he was walking in the territory of the accused. On these streets fear and rage spill over and leave a trail of blood. A city watches in silence and counts the dead. Already this year, five men have been killed, four of them black or Latino. It has started again. Our series, "Youth in Crisis," aimed to answer these questions: Where does rage that results in murder begin? Where are the fathers, so overwhelmingly absent in the lives of youths even as their young offspring become absent fathers themselves? What help is there? Does anyone care besides those facing violence? What are politicians doing to alleviate the pain of this city? Now what? The series featured the unheralded labor of those who work behind the scenes to make this a safer city, walking dangerous streets at night to connect with youths who long ago disconnected from their own pain. We ran a story on young fathers who do take responsibility for their children, on the unending grief of mothers, on youths who rise above the quicksand that is poverty and racism, on those who go to bed hearing gunfire outside their window. On the program, we were asked about the reaction to the series. Did we receive positive or negative reaction? Didn't our series perpetuate stereotypes even though there are many success stories involving Latino and black youth? Tapped to answer that question, I told listeners that all the reaction was positive, even if it was negative. That's because the reaction itself meant that people cared. The next step is a community summit that the newspaper hopes will bring together a cross-section of the city to work together on solutions. Pastors, politicians, parents, teachers, community organizers, youths and business people will be charged with finding ways to stop the violence. Money is tight. The state of the state and the union undermine the state of the city, and the state of mind of its youths. Many details have to be addressed for the summit to produce more than talk. Because here, the devil is in the details. Natalia Munoz can be reached at nmunoz@repub.com |