Yes Mom, I know aka Murderapolis

Yes, Mom I know

I live in a neighborhood that is known for being a bad neighborhood. My family and friends have not been thrilled about my living there. To be honest I am no longer thrilled about it either, but it used to be great. I used to live in a building with a bunch of considerate fun people, but now it is barking neglected dogs and drum kits. My rent is only $365 and my electric bill is $9 and I just pay a neighbor $5 to help pay for the wireless in the building. Now that the people aren’t the Atari party loving kids I used to live with and now that my building has been broken into 3 times, it is time to move on.

Lately I hate the news. I cringe after every time I see/hear that there is another murder in my neighborhood. I cringe because I know my mom is watching the TC news and I hate the calls I get from her, because Mom I know.

Earlier this week a man was shot executioner style in broad daylight on one of the busiest streets in the city. Many people saw this happen since this is a high traffic street. Two days later no one came forward to tell what they saw. Bullets often times to not reach their targets and a boy who was laying on the floor at his Aunt’s house was grazed in the arm by one of the bullets that was intended for the man who had already been shot several times.

This summer our murder rate is up so far by almost 60%. We are on our way to becoming Murderapolis once again.

I am not afraid that I will be shot and killed in my neighborhood because the victims often times know the people that shoot them. They are caught up in this gang war game where the “others” need to be eradicated off the face of the earth no matter who gets hurt in the process.

I am afraid because the Minneapolis Police do not make me feel safe. Calling them is like putting a message in a bottle and hoping it goes where it is supposed to and finding out later that it is floating in the middle of the sea with all the other bottles that other people have sent out.

Our dealings with the police have been less than positive:

1. When they ask for a description of the people you are calling about and you are giving height, weight and clothing description they pretty much interrupt you and say “Is he black or Hispanic?



2. They usually say something that makes you feel worse like. “Oh yeah, we get calls about that house all the time.” Or “Oh Tony yeah I guess we will have to talk to him again.”



3. I was speaking to a teacher at work and she said that when she called about dealings going on at the abandoned house across the street from her house in the adjacent neighborhood some suburban cop pulled up and got out of the car and shouted to her “Hey, are these the people you called about?” as he pointed out the people across the street.



4. They say that they also do not get a lot of other complaints from other people in our area and that it is just us. One, insinuating that we complain too much. Two, the reason that people aren’t complaining is because the police department doesn’t have a lot of people who speak a language other than English and we are one of the few apartments that have English speaking tenants.

Maybe I am too compassionate and angry to live here anymore. My students and their families live here. I do not want any of them to be shot while doing their homework, or walking from the store with their friends or waiting for the school bus in the morning. I want the police to be accountable.

It is time to move.