Gunsmoke

(Originally Posted December 17, 2006)

I am able to type from my desk instead of an actual chair, but with the light off because I don't want my shadow to be seen from my window.

It's about 2:10 a.m. on a Saturday night and my favorite lullaby has disturbed and destroyed another decent night's sleep. I was in the bed, listening to Luther on the radio, damn near sleep, and then about 25 rounds went off around me. Sad to say, instead of hitting the floor, I stayed in the bed because I was able to estimate how far the gunshots were and knew that there was no way for them to hit me because they were about three or four blocks away. Then I was going to call the police, but then decided against that because I didn't want to get the normal attitude from the 911 operator that I usually get when I call them about neighborhood disturbances that endanger the lives of not only myself but those around me.

I really hate the fact that I live in the neighborhood that I have called home for more than twenty years. I love this place: I rent from the same people who have seen me grow up and who's children I grew up with, know other neighbors as well as I know my own family, can trust those neighbors with watching my home when I go out of town or am away for more than a day because they will call the police if they see something that is not right going on around my house. But then again, the new people that have moved onto my block are the ones that have forced me to rethink my living situation.

Now, I have neighbors that allow their children to roam the streets past two o'clock in the morning to go to the corner store. Or how about the one that is a prostitute and her children have parties that go on past six a.m. What about those that have children that are coming home in the back of a paddy wagon because they are three hours past the 11 p.m. city curfew. Let's not forget about the Mike Jones video that is constantly playing in front of my house: 30 cars blocking the intersection of a residential neighborhood, playing music loud enough for a concert, folks hanging outside of the windows screaming at the top of their lungs, driving on the sidewalk at 30 mph…at 2:30 in the morning. On a Sunday. In the middle of winter. Try having a peaceful Saturday evening; it's raining, you are chilling with friends, and then you hear screaming outside of your house. It's ten girls, two are about to fight, one throws her coat down in the middle of the wet street, and her momma is out there egging her on in the fight instead of bringing her ass in the house.

It used to be such a quiet block. I remember being able to sit on my porch until 3, 4, and even 5 in the morning with friends without being worried about someone trying to bother us, harass us, rob us, kidnap us, or shoot us. My mom used to make cookies and cakes and feed all 15 kids that hung around my porch. Me and some of my other neighbors used to decorate the backyard and hold "carnivals:" we sold popcorn and lemonade, had raffles and prizes, even had a basketball hoop and badminton net where we used to play volleyball or our version of tennis during those carnivals. Then, there were times when we would go to the side of the house underneath that huge tree and play marbles and I always lost my super big cat's eye because my shooting wasn't the best. Or the time that we would use the lamp posts as our field goal and practice kicking extra points.

Those times are so long gone. Living in Milwaukee means living in a chips and dip situation. African Americans mostly live in the central city (the dip part) and are mostly confined to a certain area of Milwaukee. Most whites live on the outskirts or suburbs (the chips part) and rarely come to the city unless they are going downtown or are buying dope from black folks in the hood. And since so many of us are living in such a small area, we are basically living on top of each other. Unfortunately, such a physically tight knit community doesn't make a safe community. Because of lack of jobs, education, and culture that exists in Milwaukee as well as prevalent racism, gentrification, and segregation; we are unable to keep our streets safe.

I'm tired of having to hit the floor more often than I am able to go outside and sit on my front porch on a hot summer evening because I am in fear of getting shot because some fools decide that they want to retaliate against someone. I am tired of watching the news and seeing four to five people getting shot at a house party because someone pushed them at the same house the night before. I am tired of being scared to go outside of my house after a certain time because the amount of traffic on my residential street usually means that there will be some type of altercation in front of or near my house that will more than likely lead to someone shooting and/or getting shot. I am tired of having to stay in the house as soon as the sun sets because people are getting robbed at gunpoint in front of my house at seven o'clock at night. I am tired of the police literally knowing my name and coming to my house first when someone is shooting around in my area.

Why is there so much violence in my community? Why are there so many people getting killed every year and the number keeps going higher? Why have there been over a hundred murders in my city over the last several years and we have a population less than seven hundred thousand? Why do the 911 operators have an attitude when I call them about the gunshots and sound like they really could give a fuck about me and my concerns? Why…

I've always had my own opinions as to why. Besides the chips and dip theory, the lack of education, culture, work, etc., what are other reasons why? We've always had those things in the black community, granted not as much as we do today, but it's not like its something that we haven't seen before. It's not like we haven't talked about it or discussed it before in town hall meetings, the newspapers, and local and national news. Aldermen in my city have televised gun buy backs in the community, giving people an opportunity to get guns off of the street without asking any questions, as a way to make our streets safer. Police officers and our chief have asked for our cooperation when things like this occur in the city and want our trust, despite the fact that they beat the hell out of Frank Jude, Jr. Local community activists have had numerous candlelight vigils begging the community to stop the violence while surrounding the teddy bear memorial of our 97th, 98th, 99th, 100th, 101st …murders. Still, I sit on the floor while doing work on my computer because someone is shooting two houses down from me.

We've talked and marched and held vigils and begged and called and rallied for safer streets but still people are getting shot and killed everyday in Milwaukee. I know tonight someone got shot, I'm sure I won't hear about it unless they die because in Milwaukee, getting shot is part of the norm and is only important if they make transition. I won't see TV cameras on my block because someone got shot in the leg, that's expected of my neighborhood. There might a small snippet of it listed in the local paper, but it's in a section that no one reads so that time, effort, ink, and paper space was wasted. Who wants to look in the metro section and read the extra tiny print about another nigga shooting another nigga? Why mess up Milwaukee's reputation as an up and coming urban city that is trying to pull more whites into their newly built townhouses right next to crack houses? I guess we're not that important.

I hope that one day we are able to really see the gun violence in Milwaukee for what it's worth: a detrimental and community shattering occurrence that happens entirely too much in a city so small. I hope that one day we are able to call the police and they will actually give a shit instead of it being routine for them to come to my block and investigate a murder or a shooting. I hope that one day we can get guns off of the streets, out of our children's hands, and prevent another murder of a brother, sister, mother, father, uncle, aunt, cousin, grandmother, grandfather, lover, friend. I hope that one day we can watch the news and not hear about anyone dying from a gunshot wound to the chest. I hope that one day I will be able to forget about those four teenagers who were shot execution style in a Milwaukee dope house. I hope that one day we can trust the police to help us instead of patronize us. I hope that one day I can sit on my porch at ten p.m. without having to give myself whiplash because I am constantly looking up and down the street, paying attention to a group of more than two or a sneaky looking individual because I am scared that they might have a gun or they will run into someone that they just don't like and start having gunfights in the middle of the street in front of my house. I hope that one day I don't have to run in the house at one in the afternoon again to avoid being mowed down by some fool chasing a woman with an AK-47.

I also hope that one day, I will be able to type from my chair more often than my floor.