I don’t really know what to say. I’ve always loved these first few days of spring when the sun comes back out, when my students are playing frisbee or whiffleball on the college lawn, and the sun makes things feel possible again. 

And then this (from my friend April Saul, who titled this post It’s Spring and Camden is Bleeding):

As I write this, four people have been shot in the last 24 hours in the city, three of them under 19–and a fifth victim has been maimed in a dirt bike accident, documented in a grisly video clip on Facebook that has since been taken down and that I am trying to forget. I have been glued to my computer tonight, sharing shock and information, imagining the hell that must be the Cooper Hospital lobby, and trying not to cry.

I tell myself they save lots of people with bullet holes in them, and remember that last spring was hellish too. By the time I had taken this picture at Rafael (“RJ”) Vicente’s memorial tonight, two Camden High students had been shot, and a few hours ago, another man was gunned down in Lakeshore.

I opened up class today by talking about these shootings. And I could see some of my students nodding somberly (and knowingly) and still others with that look that says such violence is far removed from their daily lives. 

There are others who know those involved in these tragedies better than I do, who can write about the struggle against the gang infrastructure that underpins this violence, and share the heartbreaking story of families trying to put their lives back together after tragedy. And, when the wounds aren’t so raw, we need to have an honest discussion about how to address these challenges, and the systematic racism and policy that lays the foundation for such violence. Normally this blog talks about those big issues — it’s a space to discuss gentrification, local control, democracy, redlining and race as well as policy that affects everyday life, like education, housing, policing. And I’m proud of that. But today doesn’t feel like a day to talk about those things. 

Sometimes, in this city, I feel like it takes me years to understand the wisdom that community members have shared with me. Those are the voices I keep hearing rattling around the back of my head as I grapple with these shootings. 

I’m thinking of HopeWorks and Fr. Jeff Putthoff, and his discussion of the toxic impact of trauma, and how much it effects the daily functioning of those who see violence and tragedy. 

I’m thinking of activists such as Ronsha Dickerson and Gary Frazier who helped me understand how students react to this type of violence — how they skip school days, or how difficult it can be to focus under such trying circumstances. 

I’m thinking of longtime city resident and NAACP leader Kelly Francis, and how inspired I am by his loyalty and optimism about the city even after all these years. 

I’m thinking of the generous residents who I’ve interviewed for my research, who can say that some of their peers are making bad decisions but still have the compassion to note that even those making mistakes and succumbing to the streets deserve fair treatment, resources, and a hand up when they’re struggling. 

I’m thinking about my Camden students, who probably have friends and family being touched by this violence, who came to class today and had the strength to continue on.

I’m thinking of how much we need healing in Camden.

There are so many ways in which this violence touches us. My heart and prayers are with those who’ve been touched directly by these shootings. But also with those stoic residents and students who have to put one foot in front of the other and continue on today. And those who mourn for the young people touched by the chaos of this violence. Today, my heart is with each of you.

Tags: violence