There’s something that’s been bothering me lately and I have been hesitant to share because the people I have chosen to share this with have gotten defensive. Home no longer feels like home to me. I’m not talking about moms or pops house, that always feel the same. Family still knows I am the same goofy opinionated guy. South Central LA, Inglewood, Compton just don’t feel like it used to. As much as I rock my Compton hat when I’m back in my old stomping grounds I immediately feel like an outsider. Not only do I feel it, those in my city see it. Maybe its paranoia but even walking into the same liquor stores I walked in my whole childhood feels different, their eyes stare right through me like I don’t belong there.

South LA was where I was born and raised, while Compton is where I navigated the most dangerous years of my life High School.  On the blocks surrounding 97^th and Normandie I earned my respect and learned some of life’s most valuable lessons. Today I can barely find a reason to make it over there. You would think my great grandfather would be a good enough reason but far too many have found they demise on that block, my block. I no longer recognize the street that holds some of my dearest childhood memories, also tragedies that shaped the man I am today. These years are the reason it’s hard for me trust others and my circle is so small. My city has made me a fighter and why quitting is not an option. Without my city, there is no me, so why do I feel like an outsider?

Guilt is a funny thing, especially survivor’s guilt. It took me awhile to figure out why I felt like an outsider in my hometown. As I climb the ladder in my field, obtained more degrees (remember Dr. Alexander coming soon) and live in a very rich white city the guiltier I feel about what I have and am accomplishing, while so many back home still stuck or worse dead. The guilt has just magnified over the years as I distanced myself. It started in undergrad when I couldn’t handle the calls, Myspace and text messages about somebody getting killed.  It was just easier to disconnect and get away from it all. By just focusing on me and my own survival I began to feel like turned my back on the very people that lifted me up. This feeling has followed me to Virginia, North Carolina and now San Luis Obispo. I quietly turned 31 and all I could think about is the people I know that didn’t.

I hate that I was pegged as the “one” growing up. I hate OGs (older members or experienced gang members) forced me out of St. Andrew’s park or told my family when I was doing things I had no business doing. Let me be clear here, I am forever grateful for the guidance and protection. This is what I hate, I hate that not every kid was seen as a kid with potential. Why didn’t all my childhood friends get this perk? This is what eats at me when I go back home, I see those who I grew up stuck in the vicious cycle and there is nothing I can do to get them out. I’m off living this life I didn’t imagine while so many just out there trying to make it.

For those reading this I want you to know I’m okay, I’m not depressed or anything. I’ve accepted my feelings and I know what I feel isn’t wrong. What I feel drives my passion for my work. It’s the reason I research and read, searching for a solution to help the next generation in my city. I now know why my city feels different. I see the possibilities in my city and therefore my city feels different. We can be so much better. Maybe my OGs saw that I could be the key to helping countless others and by getting me out they were getting more out in the future. I won’t rest until I figure out how to change and affect the lives of the kids in my city so they one day can live the life they deserve.