hot water hits my skin
Dove deep in my nostrils
the furnace blows steam
eyes shut
anxiety swallowed
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You and I met three times. First, at Barringer High School where we served on the School Leadership Council. You were a Community Representative and I was a teacher there. We didn’t get to know each other well, but I had a positive impression of you as a young guy who advocated for the students. You say you remember me from then, but I don’t believe you.
We met again at New Jersey Communities United some six or seven years later. There, you were one of the Lead Organizers and I was working under your direction on the campaign for organizing the in-home childcare providers. We became work friends and comrades around the education struggle. You were supporting NSU and I was an active member of NEW Caucus.
Aside from the job, I got to know “Mr C,” which is what the Dynamic Dynasty dancers who would stop by the office called you. I was impressed you had a-whole-nother life as a manager of a dance team. You were a true mentor for young people.
Our friendship grew over those four years, but we didn’t get close until after I left NJCU. I wanted to start a new iteration of millennials organizing for political change, to move the spotlight on our leadership and interests. You were the first one I called, the only one I could have thought to call first, and you were down. That was the third time we met–and when you became my brother.
This past weekend I felt zapped. I nearly slept the day away, chalking it up to my cycle. Monday, I got back on the ball and Tuesday was even more productive. I drove downtown to pick up flyers for my new business. It happened to be on Clinton Street with the old NJCU office. It had been a very long time since I’d been on that narrow, one-way. I parked in front of the old building. It is now condos. The new downtown. On my way back to the car, I snapped a picture and sent it to you: “You’ve probably seen this already but this is my first time. So weird 😲”
I head over to a school to flyer the parking lot. I remember being on the campaign trail together. You were committed to me. Like so committed. Back in the car, I head up the Parkway to drop off some flyers at a friend’s house. I receive a call and then another and another. They say you are gone. I don’t–won’t accept it. It’s the worst joke you could ever play and I can’t wait to cuss you out. I don’t know what’s happened and I don’t know where you are. I get home. I get more details. It was this weekend. This weekend. I believe you were here. I believe you were fighting. I wish I could have given you all my energy. But I didn’t know.
You accepted me for who I was, let me be me, and listened to me talk about who I wanted to be. We would talk for hours from the personal to the political, seek advice, bounce ideas, figure shit out.
You protected and cared for me. And now I feel less safe with you gone.
Loving friendships provide us with a space to experience the joy of community in a relationship where we learn to process all our issues, to cope with differences and conflict while staying connected.
bell hooks, all about love
You constantly told me you loved me and trusted me. Maybe you did it more as a reminder for yourself that you had people who genuinely cared for you; I did my best to let you know I felt the same exact way. How much your friendship meant to me. That you were truly my brother. I have a fear that expressing difference will divide me from others. But I never felt that with you. Even in our differences, we still loved each other.
My commitment is to carry your spirit with me everywhere I go. To hear your laughter, see your smile, and feel your hugs. To be present, to live in my truth to the fullest extent. To be everything you saw in me.
let me tell you about a vacuum; its purpose is to suck the very life out of everything it comes across; an abyss, where fear breeds, giving birth to hatred and intolerance; actions carried out here have no existential dimension; worst yet, it lives in the chests of woman and man, taking up space for light, life, love
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Walking into a funeral home on Mt. Prospect Avenue was the last way I thought I would be starting my summer of 2008. But there I was, surrounded by colleagues of Barringer High School, remembering the life of Sujeiti Ocasio.
I don’t have one negative memory of Sujeiti. She was funny, upbeat, and ready to find her place in the world. In fact, the last memory I have of her was her coming by my classroom with a friend to ask if I could help her write her resume. Mind you, I was in the middle of teaching a class and I knew it wasn’t her lunch period, but my normally strict, serious teaching persona responded, “Go back there and log in. Then, I’ll come show you how to do it, but you have to be quiet.” She was appreciative, and after I showed her how to find and use a template in Word, she and her friend kept busy for the remainder of the period. I checked in with her a few times, looked it over when she was done, and gave her some paper to print out a few copies.
I found solace in this memory as I sat in the overflow room of the funeral home. Quiet as summer rain, the volume never reached above a solemn hum. Family and friends whispered to others sitting close, or didn’t speak at all. Each time someone new walked in, I would look up, trying my best to smile with my eyes. These were the only muscles in my face that seemed to work. The entire experience was surreal. How could this have happened? Damn, she was a good girl. Sujeiti didn’t deserve to die.
All of this, and more, rushed into my mind as I sat at the table waiting to introduce myself at tonight’s Newark Anti-Violence Coalition Meet and Greet. Almost everyone had a personal story to tell about how gun violence had taken the life of a family member or friend. During open discussion, individuals shared the work they have been doing and offered ideas for further work to be done. This includes ideas for how we can attack the issue of senseless violence at its root. I think member Natasha Allen said it well: “You’ve heard the saying that some people are born with a silver spoon in their mouth. Well, some people are born with a sword in their hand, and they think that’s the only way to go about solving problems.” We cannot allow our children to be exposed to violence, sex, drugs as a norm, then turn around and expect them to act any differently than what they see. Whether one ends up in the role of victim or perpetrator, we must recognize how the prevalence of violence in the media and in our communities is a detriment to the psyche.
Sujeiti was killed within weeks of the day she came by my classroom. Murdered at her own home, at her own graduation party, by another young woman, Nicole Guyette, who should have graduated that night as well. It was a senseless killing over name calling. The kind of name calling I see and hear on a daily basis inside schools. Every instance should be taken seriously. I’ve already seen how it can end.
Each day is an opportunity to start anew. Tomorrow is no different, except that some courageous people who love this city have organized a symbolic event to help us heal our communities and say enough is enough: The Funeral to Bury Violence in Newark. At 11am, five processions will originate from each of the wards, culminating at Lincoln Park at 1pm where the funeral will take place. Tomorrow, I will walk for Sujeiti AND for Nicole because they are both victims of our over-aggressive society. I don’t want any more stories to tell about someone I knew. And I hope you don’t either.
PROCESSION STARTING LOCATIONS
North Ward: La Casa de Don Pedro, 39 Broadway
South Ward: Valley Fair
East Ward: Riverview Terrace
West Ward: Sanford Ave & S. Orange Ave, Sacred Heart Church
Central Ward: CityPlex Theater, Springfield Avenue
Leave a CommentBeautiful Black girl
Funny
Complex
Smart
Who caused your self-hate?
Not being able to relate
to no one but the same?
Too busy teaching
Couldn’t imagine your hurt,
lack of self-worth
Leading by example
must be conscious
must be deliberate
Shouldn’t be left up to chance,
a lottery we can’t afford to enter.
You talked with me,
You listened to me,
You laughed with me,
You praised me,
You wined and dined me,
You took care of me,
You protected me,
You held me,
You made love to me…
…in less than a day
yet it felt like forever.
Yes,
I love you.
