When the Streets Talk
I heard him say “that’s all you get, when all you know is the streets.” I thought long and hard about the response. Reason being, that’s all you get when you choose to not want better. When you make excuses for ill mannered behaviors, using code words from the urban dictionary, robbing, and embracing terminologies such as YN, and YB, it automatically ignites a fuel to fight for change. Not just within myself or the community, but also inside the threshold of the world, whatever that may look like at the time.
Coming from the destructive side of an urbanized society, change isn’t what you see. We are often met with adaptive solutions, such as, get in where you fit in. Places where energy is precluded to bring up the next generational trauma, endorsed by those who paved the way from prison cells and cemeteries. This is what we label in America, “The Ghetto”. What is the ghetto, and how can one be happy living in a time warp of disastrous conditions?
The ghetto, a home to many families, met with outdated resources, and an unlimited supply of violence. Ceremonies aren’t graved in to educational accomplishments, or marital statuses, but for life, or death shall I put it. Guns ring the streets when daylight hasn’t broken dawn, and the night life is met with drunkenness, abuse, and uncertainty. The ghetto, it is the memento of many I know and love. Some who want change, others who believe that this way of life is the only solution to making it work.
When you meet a group of minorities in places where gentrification has become the richest cause to embrace diversity, you’re met with anger and resentment. A place where school systems lack the appropriate tools to teach outside of the streets, when mayors, and politicians promise to help but never show their faces because of the dilapidated buildings, sick mothers, and land that’s more equitable than cherished. We have barely touched the surface on the realities many men refute to change. These people love their homes, not because it guides them, but because they never broke. They never broke away from the reality the system generated in the precedent. When you meet such a group you first feel fear, shame, guilt, anger, and the first thing you can do is clutch yourself, put your head down, and understand that God has different roles for everyone we meet.
The ghetto was my home for many years, it was a place of sovereignty, not for me but for the long lasting situational strength I had to equip in order to survive. Many find that the living is inhabitable, incorporated with drugs and prostitution, high crimes, and unhappy endings. A place where money is the only tool used so they think designer is the answer to the long term problems in their minds. They believe popping bottles, and Molly’s are the solutions to making out. The ghetto, a place where dreams begin and end with one wrong mistake. A place that makes excuses for unnecessary domestication, a place where toxic love is met with high STD rates, and low life expectancy.
The streets sing a song that has no rhythm, just blues, a song where only if one has the chance to make it out, they must pursue that without looking back. One must leave or pack all the weight they carried and carry on in the life God has now given. Many I know get stuck, and like the survivalist martyrdom, it’s a dog eat dog world. They believe that life for them is a jungle kingdom and whoever survives the longest has the right to represent. Dead bodies lay in the streets while the coroner makes excuses, and judges give badges and passes because of familial relationships. Life in the ghetto is a story not given, but rewritten for the purpose to make everyone seem like a hero.
The streets are where women settle for less, codependency is the answer to belonging, and true love is defined from a movie we all know as Bonnie and Clyde. Music is the only outsource for pain, and don’t you dare to think differently, they’ll try their best to make you believe you’re like them because you showed your courage to want better, or be better. Choosing better may not be easy for some whose only happy times came from achievements that were met with immoral behaviors.
The streets talk in ways that tell lies, and the rumors that spread can be life altering. People make excuses to their behaviors because accountability only came from what they didn’t have and not what they do. The streets allow men to be less than, and only enough for status, the streets allow women to neglect their children while they put acceptance in the room where trophies should shine. The streets allow children to grow up in rough conditions, hard times, and in situations where vulnerability is considered weak.
The streets invites regret, not because of the word but because of the choices, the consequences, and the instability it creates on instant. Many are caught up believing that sacrifice comes from not knowing, but in reality sacrifice comes from knowing, knowing that the life you’re after only makes it harder for you to find your truth. Living out the dreams of the street Gods will only shorten the journey, the longevity, and the beauty there is in life.
God gives us strategy to fulfill the purpose he provides, many who are hopeful understands; many who are hurt resents, while many who care can see. God will never endorse the streets, because his signature will never sign his love to be chaotically formed. Choosing is your choice and responsibility, but if you want better your chase that, no matter how long it takes! The streets have a longstanding tradition of making a difference in those who chases after the good, and the precaution you learn to take while surviving is the exact reason the Bible encourages us to love ourselves.
Writer’s Note: Nothing beautiful comes easy, and nothing ugly comes from beauty. Learning to lean on the light and rely on the source from within, will help you carry the power to create, so don’t create problems because there is always a solution. Finding ways to not excuse yourself is the only definition of acceptance. Accountability starts with self, so no breaking down if you refuse to build up. Love yourself, and embrace the joys that comes with that, the changes are for a reason not for treason. What you need is from you, what God gives you is for you to choose. Rely solely on the soul, because the source is plugged within. Nothing outside of you exist in permeation, you write the destiny you want, by what you’re willing to give up for it!
About the Creator
Charelle Landers
Published author, philosopher, business woman, and mother to six wonderful children. I find that writing is a healing passion of purpose and the ultimate pursuit to happiness.
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A Prayer
As we brace for change, let’s all bow our heads to his amazing Grace. In Yeshua’s name. May we pray. Dear Heavenly Father, I know you can see, the weight of the world has been heavy indeed, we need your decrees, your wisdom, your light, to shine abundantly in this horrible fight. We march, we scream all for our needs, we speak from our knees as we plant more seeds. More seeds of hope that one day, peace becomes the resting platform of the chosen. We search for essence, just to match our potential, been in situations that blocks our intentions, manifested in wholeness, tried to call on a breakthrough from practical emotions, yet still we feel defeated. Fighting in our Egypt, the wilderness is cold, you always see it, you gave us mama and a new fight for hope. We search for our leader to call upon our needs, not patronizing the fact that the pews need to have seats. Your alter was built on the back of your strength, your word, the creation that empowers this nation. I say father God, I draw near to you in these times with a heavy heart. Modesty and humility leaning on your conviction, the predictions, but everyone refuse to accept the premonition. The gifted left in a field wandering, knowing that the land is milk and honey, but hungry still. In the stillness of this peace, you’ve centered me to see that the cornerstone of rock bottom has been the alter to my callings, yet some refuse to retreat. Not fighting a battle that’s yours in deed, in my God like energy you bestowed upon me. You poured into the cup, it overflows from your love, your mercies multiplied through the mirror of your son. The sacrifice of consciousness, how do we imply wisdom, learn from the last mistakes it’s called repentance. I stand in intersession, not in the intersections, can’t rush through traffic you’re the only direction. The pressing, the oil, the refined testimony that’s already won again. We come to ask for forgiveness from what we did to your son, we come to shower the joys of love that’s given to us, grace and hope, happiness to be woke, desired to be love. We thank you for choosing us and we already know there’s no one else above. As long as there is the word there is law. And as long as there is law there is man, thank you Heavenly Father, once again.
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