A lot of my Albuquerque friends are posting a Top Ten list right now. It's for the top ten most dangerous places to live in the US per 100K people. Albuquerque is number 2, Kalamazoo is number ten. I was a little disappointed Memphis took our top spot and Brent was stunned Kalamazoo was listed and disagreed completely.
We have very different views of our hometowns.
I'm never shocked when Albuquerque shows up on lists of crime or homicide or random violence. It's always been like that. I don't know anyone who has lived there for any length of time that hasn't either had it happen to them or know someone whose car was either broken into or flat out stolen.
But growing up, even though we all knew it was a dangerous place, I don't really remember being scared about it. We had riots at my high school. I was jumped in middle school. I had friends who lived in the part of town we called the War Zone, but I can only remember like one time being actually afraid that something really bad was going to happen to me that felt like a random bit of violence.
When I got jumped it wasn't unprovoked. It wasn't my fault, I'd never say that, but it was personal. I've written about it before, I rejected a boy, he didn't take it well but being raised properly he would never hit a girl so he got a friend to do it. The time from the blog I linked it was someone trying to scare me but I was never actually in any danger. The school riots were issues other people started that just grew into big fights. But nothing truly scary. The War Zone was just a neighborhood. Where you made sure you locked your car and front door all the time. And kept your head on a swivel.
And I think that's a lot of it. We were raised to be aware of where we were and to be careful. I don't walk around engrossed in my phone or my music now because I was raised to keep your ears open and your eyes up. I also was taught to be wary of the police, which I didn't realize was odd until the George Floyd murder happened and people were discussing "The Talk" that Black families have with their kids that white ones don't. And I realized that Dad totally gave us that talk. It wasn't until that summer that I wondered if we got the talk because of how dark Dad's skin was. But it was too late to ask him by that point.
But also, you just knew the police in Albuquerque were corrupt, sure not every cop was just as likely to shake you down or hurt you, some were probably fine. But all of them knew that some weren't so were they fine? I mean the A stands for All for a reason... And even as recently as a few years ago they (APD) released a video that they thought would exonerate them in public opinion for shooting a homeless man, and it was basically a snuff film and did NOT make it any better. So I don't really think the cops there are any better now than they were when I was growing up.
So I grew up knowing that you kept your head on a swivel, you locked your car, you couldn't count on the police to help you out and yet...I don't remember being scared. All of that sounds like we were scared though doesn't it?
But it wasn't scared so much as aware.
It was a dangerous place to grow up. It's still a dangerous place to live. Though not as bad as Memphis apparently. But like I said in the poem, it was also beautiful and the food is the best you are going to get anywhere. And when I moved away that's what I missed. I missed the sunrise over the mountains and the sunset over the mesa. I missed the way the thunder would roll through the valley during a storm. I missed the times the clouds boiled over the mountain like someone on the East side had started up a fog machine. I miss the colors of the Balloon Fiesta. I missed sitting outside on an October night eating apples from Dixon's.
I'm sort of nonchalant about the violence. It just is. I can remember talking to someone who had visited Albuquerque and they were so excited when they found out I grew up there. One of the things they loved was the architecture and how so many of the buildings had all of this decorative wrought iron on them. I laughed and said it wasn't decorative, it was functional. It made it harder to break in. You locked yourself up behind the bars at night.
But still, we weren't scared. We were cautious. We were aware that things could go bad. We knew that there was a good chance most of the people around you were armed with a gun or a knife or a bat or something else. We knew that even the sweetest looking little girl next door could fuck your shit up if you pissed her off. And we just acted accordingly.
Part of that is why I have zero patience for the pearl clutchers now. The ones who want to criminalize not having a home, or having an addiction. The ones who say they are so scared because someone in a tent is living behind the grocery store. Someone they have never had an interaction with. Someone who has never said a word to them. Just them being there is so scary.
Give me a fucking break.
I grew up someplace that is quantifiably dangerous. And I walked through that world just fine.
You'll be okay because someone else is in a rough spot. Trust me. You're okay.
Stop being afraid of things that aren't even dangerous.
Start being aware of the world around you and what you need to do to, yes, keep yourself safe, but also maybe make it a safer world for everyone else too. Like fighting for housing first initiatives if the homeless people scare you so much. Like investing in anti- addiction policies if the people who are using drugs are so terrifying to you. You can make it safer for them as well as feeling safer yourself.
Trust me, I mean I didn't grow up in that hellhole that is Memphis, but we were close.
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