Living in the inner city is hard sometimes. I see and feel the weight of oppression that many have to deal with here. I want things to be easy for my neighbors but I know they’re not. Yesterday, I heard 6 firetrucks responding to homes around me and I smelled smoke from my house. I was worried another home would be burnt down. I can see that money is tight and I know that many of my neighbors struggle to have extra money for their kids birthdays or school supplies. As I drive by a kids bike left outside, I know that if it gets stolen, they probably won’t be able to afford a new one. I see people who miss the bus and are running after it because they know, if they are late again, they might get fired. Living in the inner city, I see many beautiful people but my heart breaks for them a lot. Their poverty or un-access to means is only because of systemic racism and the people who came before them, many times it is not because of anything they did and they are trying hard to make it out of poverty.
Last night my sister in law, Ash and I took the kids to a sunflower farm. It was peaceful, beautiful and so pretty. The kids ran and played without us fearing anything. I came home I thought about how many of my neighbors can get away, can’t take a break. You can’t take a break when you only make $12/hr. Life is a lot harder for many people living around me and though I don’t have any solutions, I think the more we can see how hard people are trying, the more empathy we can give to people and understand the system is broken and needs to be fixed.