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Outrage over local violence missing in Philly

Where is the solidarity for protesting killings closer to home?

Students from Julia de Burgos Elementary School march through the streets November 25, 2014, demanding a stop to violence in their community. ( ALEJANDRO A. ALVAREZ / STAFF PHOTOGRAPHER )
Students from Julia de Burgos Elementary School march through the streets November 25, 2014, demanding a stop to violence in their community. ( ALEJANDRO A. ALVAREZ / STAFF PHOTOGRAPHER )Read more

I UNDERSTAND, and support, the thousands of people across the nation who are showing their solidarity with Ferguson after a grand jury decided not to indict the police officer who killed Michael Brown.

What I don't understand is why we don't show the same kind of sorrow and support to people in Philadelphia whose lives are also being torn apart by violence.

Why we don't take to the streets for children being terrorized and traumatized by a daily dose of fear and chaos right in our own back yards.

Take the students at the Julia de Burgos Elementary School on West Lehigh.

Yesterday, the students led a peace march around their North Philadelphia neighborhood. To see the baby-faced students holding signs that said "Stop the Violence" and "We Want Peace," was both heartbreaking and inspiring.

The march was in response to numerous lockdowns in their school. The last one occurred on Halloween, when gunshots fired somewhere outside sent the students and staff scrambling. A festival in the park that students had been looking forward to for months had to be canceled. Parents had to nervously wait outside for their children until the school got the all-clear.

"It's really scary," said 13-year-old Nathan Torres.

Nathan is a seventh-grader at Burgos and, like the rest of his classmates, he's had to endure five lockdowns in just a couple of months. That's five times gunshots heard outside the school meant instruction stopped and students were told to hit the floor as their teachers rushed to lock doors, turn off lights and keep children quiet. Some of the children were terrified; others had long grown accustomed to the sound of gunfire.

Ferguson protesters in Philadelphia held signs that read, "Justice for Mike Brown." What about justice for Nathan and his classmates?

During the march, Burgos principal Maritza Hernandez approached people watching from nearby storefronts and stoops and invited them to join in. A few did. But not enough; certainly not the numbers who two days in a row poured into Philly streets in support of Ferguson.

I'll say this again. Peacefully protesting against injustice is the right thing to do. The ramifications of what happened, or didn't happen in Ferguson, ripple way beyond the Missouri state line.

But why doesn't the loss of life closer to home register the same outrage? Why don't we take to the streets every time an innocent life is cut down in our own city, our own neighborhoods? Why aren't crowds of protesters taking to some of the poorest and most dangerous neighborhoods in Philly and screaming, "No Justice, No Peace"?

Many of us are looking toward Ferguson, and once again asking what black and brown lives are worth in this country. It is a fair question.

But why aren't we also asking ourselves about the value we place on black and brown lives if we aren't as outraged when black and brown children die in our city every week without much notice?

We are right to ask what Michael Brown's death says about a police department, a city and a nation. But shouldn't we also ask ourselves what our lack of reaction to hundreds of deaths in Philadelphia says about us?

Councilwoman Maria Quinones-Sanchez marched alongside the students and staff yesterday.

"We are outraged about Ferguson," said Sanchez, "but every single day we have someone, particularly someone of color, dying on the streets of Philadelphia. The fact that these students are used to hearing gunshots and that the closing down of the school has become the norm is a tragedy and we should focus our energies around how we stop all shooting and all violence particularly because young people are getting caught in the crossfire."

On a nearby sidewalk, Justina Rivera and a friend stood taking pictures of their children participating in the march.

Rivera said she was up late the night before watching the national reaction to the Ferguson grand jury decision with her 14-year-old daughter.

"It was history," she said.

It was, but as I stood there watching the students march, I couldn't help but think there was more history to be made right here in Philadelphia.

Phone: 215-854-5943

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