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Blogs by K L McFarlane
Delinquent Youth 8/25/2007 4:34:19 AM
Recently in the news in South Florida, there seems to always be the reports of crime committed by young black male. There is one in particular that has made national headlines about several youth committing an atrocious act against a single mother and her son - both immigrants to this nation, where do I stand in all of this, do I condemn, criticize or empathise. I could do any of that, but the Recently in the news in South Florida, there seems to always be the reports of crime committed by young black male. There is one in particular that has made national headlines about several youth committing an atrocious act against a single mother and her son - both immigrants to this nation. Where do I stand in all of this? Do I condemn, criticize or empathise? I could do any of that, but the reality of it for me is that my heart is broken and inside I cry for all. I cry for the lost potential of these black young men, because I wanted them to succeed in life. I did not want them to become statistics. I am a black mother with a son and so I cry with a mother's heart. I cry for the mothers because their hearts must be broken knowing their children have committed these acts; and no, not all of them were neglectful parents. Many may very well have done the best they could to steer their young men on the straight and righ path. I cry for the victims because they represent fully my life story, a single mother, an immigrant coming to America to experience the American dream - to enjoy the land that, we immigrants when we are back in our homelands in our mind akin to the land that flows with milk and honey, where the streets are paved with gold. Most of the time, however, we get a reality shock once we come to this land. We have to come and start from the bottom again, throwing away the achievements we had in our birth nations because it's not enough for this new land. So I empathise and cry with all involved and I try not to condemn because it could be me the victim or it could be me the mother of one of the accused. I remember working with kids from the inner city in a setting as a teacher, not in a school setting. I saw the prejudice meted against them because of where they were from, what society thought they represented or will become. I felt it was unfair, and an opportunity was given for many to stand up in their defense, but everyone was silent, intimidated by the system that meted out the injustice to them. I remember I stood in their defense and many congratulated me afterwards, but could not join in the defense while I was being the voice of defense for them. I beat myself up afterwards because I thought, "KLM, you don't do that." You have become a rabble rouser, a rebel who created strive. God is going to get me. My heart was broken though, as I mourned for their injustice, and also mourned the disillusionment that I felt with the system that instead of being their servant, but became their accuser. I understand that no one wants to deal with troubled kids... because they can be trouble... and at times bite the hands that want to help them... I was moved in contemplation of the entire event and wrote several poems, two of which "Child of the Ghetto" and "Diamond," written from a christian perspective, can be seen in my poetry selection.
