In memory of Wyshina Harris

My friend and former co-worker, Wyshina Harris, was killed yesterday morning.

Just two weeks ago Wyshina was calling me, so excited that she had been able to cast a vote for an African-American president. It was her I posted about here. As I was standing in shock and awe as 6000 people around me cheered, it was Wyshina who called as soon as the announcement that Barack Obama had been named our president. Since I couldn't hear a word she was saying, I called her on my way home that evening and we talked about our feelings about that moment, what was happening around us, and how we were moving things forward.

A short time before that she came to visit Sylvia and I at our new office in Roseland. As she sat at the table, she laughed and asked us to start a new enrichment class on her day off so that she could teach art, a class she had taught in Turner Courts and something she had discovered she really enjoyed when teaching it to the children.

Wyshina had a great smile, a great laugh, a great joy. She loved pictures and was very photogenic. I hate the picture the Dallas Morning News chose to put in the online edition of the paper. I have no idea where they found it, but I wish they had asked for something representative of her. Below are some pictures that remind me of Wyshina.

Click here or go to the blog search above and type in "Wyshina" to read about the number of ways she impacted the community and to read about her own motivation to make things different for her and her children.

Please pray for her two children and her family.

Who matters?

Warning: The information in this post may be a little much for most people to handle--especially those who are family or who have stayed with me or visited me. If you already have preconceived notions about the inner city or if you intend to develop a fear of my neighborhood or the people in it, please do not read any further. I do not want you to reinforce your preconceived notions.

I read a report in the newspaper yesterday. I never read the newspaper. It was a small, last minute paragraph telling about news that probably came in after the deadlines. It said a passenger in a car had been shot in the face when the car had stopped to ask directions. The street name caught my eye. I knew the address. I recognized the street name of where they drove to call for help.

It concerned me.

I re-read the paragraph several times thinking, "Wow. So many things have happened over the past couple of years around here. Have I been oblivious to the type of neighborhood I live in or has crime gotten worse??" Because of the brazen nature of the crime, it bothered me a little bit about my neighborhood and made me think about being more careful.

I had nearly forgotten about it until this afternoon. One of my friends came up and told me that Tim* was the person that shot the man. My heart immediately got heavy. What is really probably a little bit twisted on my part is that the fact that I knew who shot the man somewhat relieved me. I know Tim so I know (or am pretty confident that I know) that Tim would never hurt me. But, I wondered, what in the world ran through his mind to cause him to pull out his gun and shoot a man who was simply asking for directions???

I always hesitate in writing about stuff like this because I know that this is exactly the type of thing that most people expect from the inner city: It's all about violence...There are a bunch of crazy people there and you never know what might happen to you. I know people think that. I've heard the way people talk. The inner city is so much more than that...and that's what I want people to see.

But, the truth of the matter is that things like this *do* happen.

What I wish we would focus on instead of the fear, however, is the concern for people like Tim. What has happened throughout Tim's life that has gotten him to this point? What needs to happen in this neighborhood to provide enough hope so that people don't want to do those things? What is it that makes someone so angry and hardened that they can take someone else's life and not feel immediate remorse? What is it that creates that "eye-for-an-eye" mentality instead of "turn the other cheek?" And WHY AREN'T MORE PEOPLE ASKING THESE QUESTIONS??????

In the past, something like this would have made me cry. I don't have as many tears anymore. Perhaps that says something about my own hardened outlook on life. I am still sad for Tim. But I am more concerned and saddened that I live in a society that doesn't ask the questions that will prevent there being more Tim's in the future. I live in a society that thinks if they live far enough away from neighborhoods like Tim's, they can isolate themselves and their children from the Tim's of the world.

Perhaps that's what the man in the car thought...until he accidentally drove through the "wrong" neighborhood. Then, all of a sudden, the Tim's...and what they did or didn't get in life...mattered to him.

*not his real name

Murder...on whose terms?

The President believes murder is wrong. Tony Snow, the Press Secretary, said it in a press conference. The conversation was referring to the President's disagreement with embryonic stem cell research. He claims he "doesn't want to see human life destroyed."

I'm not sure I can understand that. How can he say that and continue a pointless war that is killing an average of 100 civilians per day in Iraq?! How can he be so concerned about unborn children, but not care about quality of life once they are born?

He contradicts himself.

Help me understand the rationale.

Tyree Sims

October 27, 1983 - June 21, 2006

Staying alive is a struggle

I've always read articles and looked at research that talks about about how a child living in the inner city has less chance of living to their 18th birthday. Yet, even though I had read that, I think I had convinced myself it wasn't quite true. Though the kids and adults I knew might talk about losing people who they knew well, it was only people I knew of and not people I really knew and had interacted with on a personal level. I guess because I've been here 11 years and it hadn't touched me personally, I assumed it wasn't quite as dramatic as it was presented in the literature. Unfortunately, these days, I'm learning that those statistics I always thought must be explaining other cities are actually statistics that hold true for my Dallas neighborhood as well.

I have lost several people over the past few months. I can split those into two categories--both equally discouraging. 1) Lack of health care and care in general and 2) urban violence.

Just yesterday I found out that B.J., a young girl I know, drowned in her own bathtub. B.J. was mentally challenged. She was 17 years old. Her mother is in jail. Her 19 year old brother was trying to keep watch over his three siblings as they all crowded into his aunt's small apartment along with her family. I am not sure of the details of her death, but I have heard that B.J. wandered around quite often. I would guess that the lack of ability by the family to meet her needs as a mentally challenged adult ultimately led to her unintentional death. I am afraid of the guilt her brother is probably taking on himself.

Just two weeks ago Pat, another mentally challenged adult in his 30's or 40's, died of suffocation and dehydration after he crawled in to sleep in a car on a too-hot night in Dallas. Pat also had a home where he could stay and an aunt and cousins who cared for him. However, he, too, wandered all the time. He had been beaten up several times by people who simply took advantage of him, but he had always managed to survive. I think of how Pat could maybe have lived longer if the family could have afforded to get him into a home that worked with mentally challenged adults...if there were even one available anywhere close to our neighborhood.

In March, my friend Priscilla, a lady in her early 60's died after a fight with cancer. I don't know if she could've hung on longer if she had better care, but I do know that the statistics show that higher poverty areas have alarmingly high rates of heart disease, diabetes, and death due to lack of health care and other poverty issues that create more health problems.

Just six months ago, I also lost Sam, a 22 year old who was also shot and killed in broad daylight because of a case of stolen drugs they assumed he had a role in.

Then, last night I was awakened by a phone call at 2:30 a.m. saying that Tyree, a 20 year old friend of mine, had been shot in the back of the head. I got a phone call about an hour later telling me he had died. Evidently he was sitting at the bus stop and some guys were driving around mad at another guy who had challenged them. Shots rang out. Everyone ran. Tyree didn't have enough time. He's gone.

I have listened to B.J. as she told me with such pride that her teacher at school loved her because she told her so and how her brother loved her because he bought her some tennis shoes.

I have given Pat rides home at 2:00 in the morning after he had finally gotten tired of wandering around so he had decided he would throw rocks at my bedroom window to wake me up so that I would give him a ride. (Pat was very resourceful and had created his own survival strategies).

I have watched Priscilla give people her last dime...to the point of not being able to pay her own rent...when she used to volunteer for the food pantry when I was there.

I have watched Sam grow up and went out of my way to speak to him when he was a kid. As a still shy adult, he would always walk by my house and nod his head to say hi.

I have taken Tyree to church, dealt with he and his brother as belligerant kids, helped him with resumes as an adult. Whenever I would see Tyree, he would harass me about something. Despite him making fun of my strictness with kids and teens and my high expectations of him and his friends, I always felt there was a respect there.

Judge these situations and their circumstances any way you would like, but they were all friends of mine. No matter what the circumstance, losing my friends is extremely difficult. It doesn't get any easier--especially when they are so young.

Please pray for me today. Please pray for his friends.