Peace-UP Fire III

I am doing my best to get thing's up to date with my writting of Peace-UP; for, I have repeadly said It's not about me. IT's not about me.

 I wrote Peace-up fire in 2005 during an ice storm.

Peace-UP III Fire

“The Breakdown”

           

            The unrelenting finger of media hysteria, pointing at the atrocities and dysfunctions that plague our community by the culprit “Drugs,” as they deem, is still not addressing the cure, only a symptom of the sickness. This sickness has two sides; the other and most deadly side is the fall out from the “Drug War.” The greatest casualty has been the “Socio-Community,” or the community that used to lie right outside our doors. It consisted of our neighbors, our families, and those leaders of our communities whose ears listened, whose wisdom and compassion were respected, and whose voices were heard. This all-so-important part of our community which, recognized and was a first response to the improper social actions in our daily lives, died the summer of 1984 in the surrounding areas of Washington D.C. The only deterrent needed to check, hinder, and vaccinate against the actions that led to dysfunctional behavior was attacked and removed from the American cities.

Most people were too close to see what was happening, or too far away to care. They sure care now; for the repercussions of that summer and the demise of the Socio-Community, has allowed the greatest breakdown in our community to thrive unchecked, taking with it the cornerstone of American culture, the family unit.

 I was there. I remember what happened. This, the greatest community breakdown, ever to assail the American people has for thirty years been kept a secret. I will now tell its story.

            In 1984, at the age of sixteen, I began making forays into the projects in Langley Park, Prince Georges County, Maryland. In the beginning of the summer a person could make a run with little concern for molestation. The Socio-Communities were in full swing, gathered together by ethnic groups and living right next to each other. The windows, doors, and drapes were pulled back, so the women, ever vigilant of the children’s activities, could monitor them from in their homes. The women, as always, had an ear for the goings on of their neighbors’ and consequently were a vast communication network for their community. The stoops were alive with music, and the children’s laughter and intermittent calls filled the air. The men, posted in groups, reviewed local events, shared drink and conversation, and aired their opinions in the manner of an open forum. The weed dealers stood by the road and did business like a street vender.

Things were peaceful. The racial tension from the ‘60s + ‘70s had given way, in the late ‘70s and early ‘80s to an unprecedented sharing of cultures within the projects, barrios, and ghettos. The leaders of these communities had the ear of mainstream America, and their voices and wisdom were heard and respected by all classes of people. A great breakthrough was imminent. Then the whole game changed.

            Did you ever paint a room a different color? After awhile, you acclimate to the new color and don’t really remember the feel of the old room. This is what happened on a vast scale. A “Blitzkrieg” if you will. The cocaine/crack hit the streets just in time for the “Drug War” to begin. The Socio-Communities went inside, shutting their doors, their windows, their drapes. Seclusion seemed the only answer to the “War on Drugs” The menace was all too evident, for the game was now a dangerous and unsure playing field with the possibility of violence all too real. The violence came in many forms: from street thieves who wanted the fast score, to “Crack-heads” overpowered by their addiction, who would jump through windows, open or smashed, if they saw an item of worth, to “Gang-bangers” fighting for the new costly turf and soldiers recognition.

One of the scariest things I witnessed was conducted by the “Police.” The projects were set up in a horseshoe. The police shut down the entire area not allowing any person entry without being questioned and providing I.D. This would go one for an hour or more at a time. Because most of these people were minorities or poor, their plight was quiet and considered of no consequence. I, being mullato, was chosen for runs to get smoke, for most of my friends were white and would be instantly stopped and harassed by police. The price of smoke doubled in one month. My garb had changed to shorts, tee-shirt, and tennis shoes with a ten dollar bill hidden on my person. To carry anything else was inviting trouble.

This change happened over the summer of 1984. I remember, we all thought that next year, when it got warm things would get back to normal. They didn’t; in fact, the situation became more permanent. The “Drug War” began to divide our families, our communities, and our nation. The Socio-communities whose growth and communication would have led to a distribution of power which eventually would of led to a system that catered to the diversity of American culture had been, exterminated. The social vaccine to dysfunctions and hidden addictions was gone, and the family lay prey to this disease.

            Let me put this in an example that we all can relate to. Let us say, before the breakdown, Bob, a married man with children, has an affair with June, on his wife Mary. The community, with its social network, finds out about the affair. There is a confrontation. The Socio-community’s women band together to help both Mary and Jane with the problem, and the children are cared for as well. The men of the Socio-community speak to Bob and remind him of his family duties and responsibilities. This attention by the community allowed for immediate action and greatly insured a positive outcome for all those involved.

After the breakdown, however, the course of events, would be far different. The affair would continue unchecked because no-one knows. Mary starts drinking and becomes an alcoholic because no-one knows. In her pain and anger, from her failing marriage, she begins hitting the children because no-one knows. Bob and June begin smoking crack cocaine because no-one knows. June becomes addicted and Bob can’t afford her habit. She begins selling herself because no-one knows. Bob is angry at June and finds bruises on his children. He beats his wife because no-one knows. In so many different forms, places, and homes, this story became a reality to the family and neighborhood. Why? NO-ONE KNEW!

            Well, here we are, thirty years later, still suffering the repercussions of a war that has been directed at the American people. The creation of an International police force and the “Drug War” was not supposed to hit the American home, yet it did. The dysfunctions, addictions, and broken homes still continue to sweep the nation like a plague, driving us further into suffering and seclusion. It is time for us to wake up, open our doors and lives to our neighbors, thus erasing the imposed fear that has a stranglehold on the nation. “We the People” in order to form a more perfect union, must not allow this” “Breakdown” to continue.

PEACE-UP

THOR

rm.