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"No-one should feel satisfied just because his or her own child is okay. Everyone in Evanston should be aware that there are third-world conditions right here. There are lots of generous people who care about the wellbeing of our community and donate money to agencies such as ours. But we also have to give more of ourselves in order to truly understand the needs of the community. Most importantly, to learn what it means to be an ally." Emeric Mazibuko is an Outreach Case Manager with Youth & Opportunity United (Y.O.U.) Raised in Port Elizabeth, South Africa, Emeric moved to America 18 years ago, just four years after apartheid ended. Nina Kavin spoke to him about his work. Q: How did you end up in Evanston? A: My parents divorced when my brother and I were young, but had split custody. My father later married my stepmom whom he met in Israel, and they decided to settle in Evanston, where my stepmom was raising my two step-siblings. My wife Karen is an Evanstonian and we’re raising our eight-year-old son here. Q: How did you become a youth worker? A: I wasn’t a particularly good kid. I could have easily become marginalized. I was never satisfied with answers I got from adults and I always wanted to do things out of the box. I questioned and challenged authority. But I was a good student so I always hide behind that. I never thought I’d be doing this work. The idea of working with young people terrified me, because I remembered how difficult I made things for grown ups. What I’ve learned is that young people are the smartest in society, but the process of growing and leaving behind childish ways is messy. They see the inconsistencies and contradictions between what adults do and say, and want nothing to do with it, so they rebel. Q: What prevented you from becoming marginalized? A: I grew up in a Port Elizabeth township under apartheid. There were lots of parameters, lots of fences around me. I had family, neighbors, community members who looked like me and held me accountable. We all knew the police weren’t looking out for us, would never look out for us, but we had an entire community. We lived in an oppressive society and understood that we were all oppressed because we were black. “An injury to one is an injury to all,” was our mantra. In our neighborhoods there were postal workers, doctors, teachers, janitors. There wasn’t a concentrated level of poverty. This was my saving grace. I was a kid who pushed against the fences, but our strong community kept me from falling apart so my bad choices weren’t as detrimental as a result. When apartheid ended, the people with means could get out from under the yolk of segregation, leaving behind those who didn’t have the means; leaving a concentration of poverty. And with a concentration of poverty, comes a high level of crime and violence. I think this is what happened in a lot of American urban areas. The history of racial oppression, denial of equal access, housing and school discrimination and all sorts of social inequities connected to racism and greed have created this situation. And Evanston, a small city in the shadow of one of America’s top five most segregated cities, is not immune. It’s a conundrum. When desegregation happened, there were other things that weren’t paid attention to. It needed to be a more intentional process so people with fewer means weren’t left behind. Q: What do you do as a youth worker? A: I work with youth between 12 and 22 at ETHS and beyond. I’ve partnered with Curt's Cafe, the James B. Moran Center for Youth Advocacy, Youth Job Center, McGaw YMCA - Evanston , YWCA Evanston/North Shore, the City of Evanston, and different departments at ETHS.I serve the whole young person by forming a meaningful and genuine relationship. I assess the youth’s and family’s needs and connect them to Evanston's many resources. At ETHS, I help identify youth who are falling through the cracks. Marginalized youth don't have a one-dimensional story; they don't exist in a vacuum. To serve youth better, we must see their entire context and not just for the few hours we have with them. As someone who works for a community-based agency, I partner with the school by filling in the blanks. It’s critical to keep in mind that the issues faced by the youth we serve did not begin in high school. From pre-school on, there are things we can do to minimize issues later in their lives. For example, we can begin by not labeling children as good or bad and working on their strengths instead of their perceived deficits. Some of the youth I work with have very intense needs by the time they get to their later teen years, which makes sense if we look at the many obstacles they’ve overcome to get here. We have to appreciate their resiliency and not just be critical. I work with mostly black and Latino youth, from the fifth ward to the south end. The common thread is their disadvantaged backgrounds. I’ve worked with families from Latin America and across the African diaspora right here in Evanston. It’s amazing how diverse this community is, but if we look at who is dying or getting arrested, it’s the disadvantaged black and Latino youth. It’s a systemic problem. Evanston’s diversity, like America, is a curse and a blessing. The history of racial segregation, racial inequality, and racial oppression serves as a background. It breaks my heart that in the six years I’ve worked at Y.O.U., 16 black youth between the ages of 14 and 25 have lost their lives to gun violence. These are all young men of color who grew up here. It’s sickening. Q: Do you think we as a society can change this? A: I think we can, but our inaction makes it difficult to believe we want to. I think there are things we can change within institutions, but some issues are so deeply ingrained it will be difficult. We can start by looking at all kids as just that: kids. All teenagers make bad choices at some point in their lives. But these choices shouldn't have such dire consequences that they determine the rest of their lives. And for black and Latino youth there is not a lot of wiggle room. Even in their deaths, news coverage of shootings will use terms like “gang-related” or “gang-affiliated,” without telling the young man’s complete story, simplifying it so we can all go to sleep at night. It’s almost like saying there are times when it’s okay that a 14-year-old boy is murdered. But all of the young men we’ve lost to violence have stories and backgrounds, and the nobility of their spirits shouldn't be reduced to the bad choices they’ve made. There are also subliminal messages that take shots at the psyche of black boys that violate their nobility. There are many things we can do to stem the violence: stop treating teenagers of color as potential criminals by ending the practice of stop-and-frisk; community policing, is another. There are a handful of Evanston police I know and work with because they participate in community life. The police must connect with the community they serve and protect so they’re not seen as an occupying force. As a parent, I want the police to protect my son and the many young kids who live in Evanston. Because of the levels of trauma and re-traumatization of youth of color, trauma-informed care as a practice in youth services is also helpful. This includes schools and teachers, administrators, security and police officers. This would go a long way to show all our youth that they matter. As a society, we might be far from this, but I believe we can do it in Evanston. Q: In your work, does it matter that you’re not from Evanston? A: I wasn’t born here and I have an accent. In Evanston everyone knows each other, especially in the communities we serve. But I was welcomed with open arms. I learned that we are all humans and just want to be seen, treated, accepted and respected as human beings. I know I’m human because I see in you my own humanity. In South Africa, this is called Ubuntu. I want every youth, every family, to know that whoever they are, they have a right to be here. I want them to know, you’re amazing, and your conditions don’t change your dignity. I’m saying to them, come out from the shadows and join us. Q: How can wealthier community members help change things? A: No-one should feel satisfied just because his or her own child is okay. Everyone in Evanston should be aware that there are third-world conditions right here. There are lots of generous people who care about the wellbeing of our community and donate money to agencies such as ours. But we also have to give more of ourselves in order to truly understand the needs of the community. Most importantly, to learn what it means to be an ally. We all need to pay attention to the fact that the academic achievement gap is still so wide, even as science tells us that talent is distributed randomly. Black and Latino youth are more likely to be stopped and frisked and arrested for drug possession, though research shows that youth across racial lines use drugs at the same rates. And the young men who've died from violence in the few years I’ve worked here have all been youth of color. Everyone must recognize some kids don’t have the same protection as others, and that’s everyone’s problem. Q: Are you religious? A: I'm Baha’i. My father became Baha’i in college and my mother in high school. My dad’s family was rooted in Christianity, so it was quite a rebellious thing for him to do. We grew up as the only Baha’i family among Christians. Q: Do you have hope that things can change? A: I am hopeful. I have to be, otherwise, what’s the point of my work? This is where my faith comes in. I hope I’ve affected lives, even in small ways. I see what I do as serving my community, rather than helping it. There is a difference: to “help” has a superior connotation. When you serve, you’re doing it for the sole purpose of doing it. Nothing makes you happier than the serving itself. Every once in a while I hear from a young person I haven’t heard from in years. Recently, I got a call from a kid I worked with a long time ago. He said he thought of me and just wanted to say “Hi.” Any number of horrible things could have happened to him. But he was in college and grabbing coffee between classes. And he still had my number. I can’t describe how it felt to know I’d made a difference in his life and that he remembered me. I’ll hold on to that feeling for the rest of my life. #YOU #SouthAfrica #youthgunviolence #CurtsCafe #JamesBMoranCenterforYouthAdvocacy #YouthJobCenter #McGawYWCA #YWCAEvanstonNorthShore #Evanston #ETHS #racism #trauma

"I heard Steve Harvey once say that we’re all like seeds on this earth. You have to get dirt on you in order to grow. Tough moments, people who don’t believe in you, but you will grow. The sun will find you. The water will find you." By the end of my interview with 24-year-old Marcus Brown, I had tears in my eyes. His passion, love, concern for, and commitment to Evanston’s children is truly inspiring. Marcus was born and raised in Evanston and lived right near the high school. He went to Lincolnwood and Haven and graduated from ETHS in 2010. He is an assistant teacher at Oakton Elementary School and teaches Hip Hop dance at Oakton, Walker, and Washington elementary schools, as well as at the YMCA. Q: How did you become a Hip Hop dance teacher? A: It’s a dream come true. I’ve been doing Hip Hop since I was a little kid, when I used to dance with my cousins in the basement whenever we were together. After I graduated, I went to NY to start dancing at the Broadway Dance Center in Manhattan. And that was awesome. But I had to come back home for surgery, and then my family who had lived in New York moved back here. So I had to stay. It worked out well, though, because I found out what I really, really wanted to do to serve the world, and it’s through children. I started working at summer camps. I did coaching, and kept trying to figure out what I want to put my heart into. I stumbled into a lunchroom job at Walker and that was a life changing moment. The teachers really supported me let me know that I have a gift with students and kids. Now I do dance classes after school for elementary students and on weekends for elementary and middle school students in Evanston. I’m also a teachers assistant at Oakton, and I love it there. I started as a lunchroom supervisor and I’m working my way up to be a teacher. Once the dance classes came around, I realized how much potential they have to help other people and to enrich my life also. Q: How does teaching children to dance reduce violence? A: It helps them by giving them a place where they can feel themselves and decompress from the stress in their lives. I get emails and calls from parents and students saying the dance class helps them throughout their day and gives them a better sense of who they are. Everyone has problems no matter your age or your color. But we can all come together and help one another. I have a few students who I can tell have been through violence, maybe bullied. I tell them: those things don’t define who you are; they happen to the best of us, and we don’t deserve it. I say, don’t let that stop you; you have a voice and it should be heard. I communicate that through my dancing. I tell my students, even through the hardest, toughest moments, it will be okay. Dancing shows them a different way to express themselves, to let go of anger and fear and learn to control those things through motion. Like, if a kid wants to hit something and they know they can turn it into dancing or singing or drawing, or whatever their passion is. You don’t have to be the best dancer, you just have to get in there and move. My dance classes have really helped those students that struggle with those things to calm down. At the end of every session we do a yoga piece where were breathe in and breathe out. I try to show them that when you’re in the heat of the moment, you’re very up and excited or frustrated; whatever the emotion, it’s really high. So you have to slow down the music, slow down your breath and your thoughts, relax yourself and understand why you’re upset. When you’re able to control those things, everything else becomes easier to control and you get more control of yourself. It’s more than just a dance class. I’m saying, believe in yourself, work hard, don’t doubt yourself, and use all the support that you have. Q: Have you experienced violence in your life? A: Growing up, I experienced my aunt taken away very early, when I was about six or seven. She was shot and killed being in the wrong place, at the wrong time, with the wrong people. The bullet was meant for the person she was with. I’ve had friends, people I’ve known, get shot and killed, people I used to work out with, people I’ve played basketball with. I’ve been to parties where fighting has happened. I try to stay away from those things now. I know how dangerous this world can be. I was also involved in a code red at Oakton about a year ago when someone was on the premises with a gun after school during dance class. I put the kids in the closet area and I told them to stay down. They were so frightened. My mindset was to protect these kids, no matter what. I put a piano in front of the door. I wasn’t going to let anyone in there. Q: What do you think is a cause of violence in Evanston? A: I think this happens because a lot of our young people don’t have a place where they can feel safe, where somebody actually believes in them and that they can do something with their life. It starts really, really young. I’ve always believed, you have to catch them when they’re really, really young, when there’s still some hope to switch that mindset and build on that. If kids are fed the wrong things constantly—either things that are said to them directly, or things they see and hear all the time, even on the news—then subconsciously it becomes part of their life and that's all they know. And once they reach a certain time in their life there’s no getting them back. Sometimes we have huge miracles where things can change that late, but its very rare. Thats why for me it's starting with the younger students. People tell me, Marcus, you can get better pay for teaching high school or college, but that’s not my point. That’s not why I’m doing it. It’s to make a difference. Period. The money will come, and it helps you with certain things, but it doesn’t always make the difference that needs to be made. I think things have changed. It’s got to the point where I feel like people are getting tired and focusing on themselves more, not really pouring as much into others as they used to. Teachers need to be sitting down and listening to their students, knowing who they really are, investing the time. It takes a lot of love and care for an amazing person to be made. That’s why I am who I am today. I had people who loved and cared for me and I understood that. There are people like that out there, other than your family, who will love and care for you. You have to find them and be open to it. If you don’t have that around you at all, it’s hard to grow up and believe that it’s out there. I tell my students, that I’m trying everything in my power to make them the best they can possibly be. I feel like a lot of the violence is because of a loss of faith and hope. People say, why bother, why should I even try? They see so much imbalance in the world. That is a huge part of it. When people see how unfair the world is, they say, why should I even fight, no matter how much I try I’m not going to get anywhere. My goal is to help people think the opposite. I say, you have nothing to lose, so don’t hold back. That ’s what I live by. Q: What was your family like when you were growing up? A: My parents were very strict. They were strict because they wanted me to be the best that I could be and I owe them everything. They were together for my young years, but they split when I was 11 or 12. They’re an amazing team when it comes to making sure that I’m okay. They’re the best. I also have an older sister on my dad’s side. When I’m the most down, my mom is the one person who always brings me out of it. I don’t know how she does it. My dad is the best dad ever. Things got so much better as I got older. I communicate with him a lot more. He’s a really well known deejay, Deejay Les Brown. Everyone knows him in Evanston. Q: Tell me about your work and how it inspires you. A: There’s a real love between me and the kids. It’s amazing. It’s kids of all races, religions and income levels. I believe everyone has their own struggles, some might be greater than others, but at the end of the day it is about coming together. The dancing helps me connect the emotion and the message I want to get across. If I’m feeling down, when I think about my students, it’s like a cure. I remember when I was crying on my mom’s lap when I was about 21 or 22. I had come back from NY and I was in pieces. I didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life. I was confused, and I felt that I wasn’t doing enough to make a difference. It was the darkest moment of my life. I didn’t even want to be here any more. My mom told me, Marcus, you can’t save the world. It was hard for me to swallow. Now, to come from that and get here and have people talk about how I helped their kid and their family believe again—it’s just amazing. I do believe, more than ever, I’m starting to help in that direction. If I’m not going to save it, I’ll die trying. Q: Do you feel like you’ve come a long way? A: I’m proud that I found my way. I heard Steve Harvey once say that we’re all like seeds on this earth. You have to get dirt on you in order to grow. Tough moments, people who don’t believe in you, but you will grow. The sun will find you. The water will find you. The teachers, the mentors. And you have to be there for yourself as well. If you want balance in the world, you have to bring it to yourself first. It starts with you. That’s what I tell my kids. #DIMEdanceismyeverything #ETHS #OaktonElementarySchool #Walker #Washington #McGawYWCA #YouthGunViolence

"I heard Steve Harvey once say that we’re all like seeds on this earth. You have to get dirt on you in order to grow. Tough moments, people who don’t believe in you, but you will grow. The sun will find you. The water will find you." By the end of my interview with 24-year-old Marcus Brown, I had tears in my eyes. His passion, love, concern for, and commitment to Evanston’s children is truly inspiring. Marcus was born and raised in Evanston and lived right near the high school. He went to Lincolnwood and Haven and graduated from ETHS in 2010. He is an assistant teacher at Oakton Elementary School and teaches Hip Hop dance at Oakton, Walker, and Washington elementary schools, as well as at the YMCA. Q: How did you become a Hip Hop dance teacher? A: It’s a dream come true. I’ve been doing Hip Hop since I was a little kid, when I used to dance with my cousins in the basement whenever we were together. After I graduated, I went to NY to start dancing at the Broadway Dance Center in Manhattan. And that was awesome. But I had to come back home for surgery, and then my family who had lived in New York moved back here. So I had to stay. It worked out well, though, because I found out what I really, really wanted to do to serve the world, and it’s through children. I started working at summer camps. I did coaching, and kept trying to figure out what I want to put my heart into. I stumbled into a lunchroom job at Walker and that was a life changing moment. The teachers really supported me let me know that I have a gift with students and kids. Now I do dance classes after school for elementary students and on weekends for elementary and middle school students in Evanston. I’m also a teachers assistant at Oakton, and I love it there. I started as a lunchroom supervisor and I’m working my way up to be a teacher. Once the dance classes came around, I realized how much potential they have to help other people and to enrich my life also. Q: How does teaching children to dance reduce violence? A: It helps them by giving them a place where they can feel themselves and decompress from the stress in their lives. I get emails and calls from parents and students saying the dance class helps them throughout their day and gives them a better sense of who they are. Everyone has problems no matter your age or your color. But we can all come together and help one another. I have a few students who I can tell have been through violence, maybe bullied. I tell them: those things don’t define who you are; they happen to the best of us, and we don’t deserve it. I say, don’t let that stop you; you have a voice and it should be heard. I communicate that through my dancing. I tell my students, even through the hardest, toughest moments, it will be okay. Dancing shows them a different way to express themselves, to let go of anger and fear and learn to control those things through motion. Like, if a kid wants to hit something and they know they can turn it into dancing or singing or drawing, or whatever their passion is. You don’t have to be the best dancer, you just have to get in there and move. My dance classes have really helped those students that struggle with those things to calm down. At the end of every session we do a yoga piece where were breathe in and breathe out. I try to show them that when you’re in the heat of the moment, you’re very up and excited or frustrated; whatever the emotion, it’s really high. So you have to slow down the music, slow down your breath and your thoughts, relax yourself and understand why you’re upset. When you’re able to control those things, everything else becomes easier to control and you get more control of yourself. It’s more than just a dance class. I’m saying, believe in yourself, work hard, don’t doubt yourself, and use all the support that you have. Q: Have you experienced violence in your life? A: Growing up, I experienced my aunt taken away very early, when I was about six or seven. She was shot and killed being in the wrong place, at the wrong time, with the wrong people. The bullet was meant for the person she was with. I’ve had friends, people I’ve known, get shot and killed, people I used to work out with, people I’ve played basketball with. I’ve been to parties where fighting has happened. I try to stay away from those things now. I know how dangerous this world can be. I was also involved in a code red at Oakton about a year ago when someone was on the premises with a gun after school during dance class. I put the kids in the closet area and I told them to stay down. They were so frightened. My mindset was to protect these kids, no matter what. I put a piano in front of the door. I wasn’t going to let anyone in there. Q: What do you think is a cause of violence in Evanston? A: I think this happens because a lot of our young people don’t have a place where they can feel safe, where somebody actually believes in them and that they can do something with their life. It starts really, really young. I’ve always believed, you have to catch them when they’re really, really young, when there’s still some hope to switch that mindset and build on that. If kids are fed the wrong things constantly—either things that are said to them directly, or things they see and hear all the time, even on the news—then subconsciously it becomes part of their life and that's all they know. And once they reach a certain time in their life there’s no getting them back. Sometimes we have huge miracles where things can change that late, but its very rare. Thats why for me it's starting with the younger students. People tell me, Marcus, you can get better pay for teaching high school or college, but that’s not my point. That’s not why I’m doing it. It’s to make a difference. Period. The money will come, and it helps you with certain things, but it doesn’t always make the difference that needs to be made. I think things have changed. It’s got to the point where I feel like people are getting tired and focusing on themselves more, not really pouring as much into others as they used to. Teachers need to be sitting down and listening to their students, knowing who they really are, investing the time. It takes a lot of love and care for an amazing person to be made. That’s why I am who I am today. I had people who loved and cared for me and I understood that. There are people like that out there, other than your family, who will love and care for you. You have to find them and be open to it. If you don’t have that around you at all, it’s hard to grow up and believe that it’s out there. I tell my students, that I’m trying everything in my power to make them the best they can possibly be. I feel like a lot of the violence is because of a loss of faith and hope. People say, why bother, why should I even try? They see so much imbalance in the world. That is a huge part of it. When people see how unfair the world is, they say, why should I even fight, no matter how much I try I’m not going to get anywhere. My goal is to help people think the opposite. I say, you have nothing to lose, so don’t hold back. That ’s what I live by. Q: What was your family like when you were growing up? A: My parents were very strict. They were strict because they wanted me to be the best that I could be and I owe them everything. They were together for my young years, but they split when I was 11 or 12. They’re an amazing team when it comes to making sure that I’m okay. They’re the best. I also have an older sister on my dad’s side. When I’m the most down, my mom is the one person who always brings me out of it. I don’t know how she does it. My dad is the best dad ever. Things got so much better as I got older. I communicate with him a lot more. He’s a really well known deejay, Deejay Les Brown. Everyone knows him in Evanston. Q: Tell me about your work and how it inspires you. A: There’s a real love between me and the kids. It’s amazing. It’s kids of all races, religions and income levels. I believe everyone has their own struggles, some might be greater than others, but at the end of the day it is about coming together. The dancing helps me connect the emotion and the message I want to get across. If I’m feeling down, when I think about my students, it’s like a cure. I remember when I was crying on my mom’s lap when I was about 21 or 22. I had come back from NY and I was in pieces. I didn’t know what I wanted to do with my life. I was confused, and I felt that I wasn’t doing enough to make a difference. It was the darkest moment of my life. I didn’t even want to be here any more. My mom told me, Marcus, you can’t save the world. It was hard for me to swallow. Now, to come from that and get here and have people talk about how I helped their kid and their family believe again—it’s just amazing. I do believe, more than ever, I’m starting to help in that direction. If I’m not going to save it, I’ll die trying. Q: Do you feel like you’ve come a long way? A: I’m proud that I found my way. I heard Steve Harvey once say that we’re all like seeds on this earth. You have to get dirt on you in order to grow. Tough moments, people who don’t believe in you, but you will grow. The sun will find you. The water will find you. The teachers, the mentors. And you have to be there for yourself as well. If you want balance in the world, you have to bring it to yourself first. It starts with you. That’s what I tell my kids. #DIMEdanceismyeverything #ETHS #OaktonElementarySchool #Walker #Washington #McGawYWCA #YouthGunViolence

"In my immediate family were two brothers and four sisters. Two of my sisters have lay their sons to rest from Evanston violence, Marcus Davis and Perry Griffen." This work is entitled, "When this becomes a lie, we have overcome. Amen." Terry Brown is an artist who was born and raised in Evanston.

"In my immediate family were two brothers and four sisters. Two of my sisters have lay their sons to rest from Evanston violence, Marcus Davis and Perry Griffen." This work is entitled, "When this becomes a lie, we have overcome. Amen." Terry Brown is an artist who was born and raised in Evanston.

Susan Garcia Trieschmann is the founder and executive director of Curt's Cafe, which opened on Central Street almost four years ago. Curt’s is a bustling community gathering spot where customers “dine with a purpose:" the Cafe trains young men who have been in trouble with law enforcement—or who are headed in that direction—in life skills and food service skills. They are paid a stipend during the three-month training period and Curt’s then helps to place them in jobs.Curt's Cafe South, on Dempster and Dodge, works with young women. Nina Kavin asked Susan about the Cafe, the young people it serves, and how her work helps to reduce violence in Evanston. Q: Do you think violence is an issue in Evanston? A: It is for some people in our community. Yes. It is an issue for a group of young people who are under-served, who haven’t figured how to get along better, and for whom constant disappointment and failure, hunger, lack of housing, lack of opportunity, turns into anger, which then turns into violence. Q: How do you think Curt’s helps to prevent violence? A: We help kids on that spectrum re-establish a purpose in the community, regain a sense of hope. Many of our students are young parents, and so we hope that what they learn at Curt’s they will in turn teach their children, and in that way we are working to break a cycle. Q: Why did you open Curt’s Cafe? A: I opened the cafe because I felt that a segment of our community wasn't being heard or serviced, and that they were falling through the cracks—young men between the ages of 15 and 24 who had high contact with the justice system. I thought I could help that particular demographic. I've done a lot of work in restorative justice, and I’ve sat in many peace circles with young men who’ve been in trouble with law enforcement, and over and over again they would say that they wouldn’t have committed the crime if they had had a job. Now, they might have needed housing or tutoring or various other services, but what came out of their mouths was that they wanted to work. So I decided that I would start an organization committed to workforce training for these young men, but also offer help with the other things they needed. Q: Why did you pick a cafe? A: My background is in catering and restaurants. I know the restaurant business and I get excited about it. I also did research and discovered that food service is the second or third highest hiring sector in the economy. So I thought, if I’m going to do workforce training, I should do it in an area I know well, that also happens to hire a lot of people. Q: In addition to job training, what else do you provide for Curt’s students? A: Our program is 50 percent life skills education and 50 percent job training. In addition to teaching our students food service skills, we provide them with access to a full-time social worker who can help them with housing issues, getting their drivers licenses and IDs, working through trauma that many of them have experienced. We help them with life skills anywhere from anger management and understanding appropriate relationships to balancing a budget and developing a resume. Q: How did you come up with the program model? A: I formed a youth board which consisted of two brothers who had just got out of prison, three young men with whom I’d sat in peace circles [this is an alternative to going to jail, where the offender sits with the victim and members of the community to discuss the incident and take ownership of it], and another young man who was at risk of going to jail. They told me that they would only participate in this kind of program if they could be paid for the training. That they were tired of organizations making them promises that didn’t pan out. It was important to them that they would be paid while they figured out how to move their lives forward. So we decided on a stipend for the three-month training. Q: Where do most of Curt’s students come from, and how do they find out about Curt’s? A: Most of our students come from the area around the high school and also south Evanston, close to Howard Street. They hear about us from probation officers and social workers, and now, because we have been around for a while and because they like and trust us, we have a lot of word-of-mouth referrals. There are a lot of very good services in Evanston for fourth to sixth graders, like Y.O.U. and the Youth Job Center. The problem is that so many of these kids don’t have parents who are in a position to advocate for them, to recommend these programs to them, and so they fall through the cracks. Many of the kids we work with have parents who have issues themselves, and in many cases, they’ve had to raise themselves. And that’s where the breakdown is. Q: Have you been personally affected by violence in Evanston? A: Before I opened the cafe, I’d been a victim of theft, small stuff. But since I opened the cafe I have become much closer to violence. Through working with and talking to our students, I’ve learned about violence that goes on behind closed doors, especially toward young women, but also toward the young men from some of their parents or other young men with whom they've had conflict. Often as long as 10 years earlier. Q: Are there challenges working with young men most of whom are African American while you are white? A: I have never had a problem with this. I am my genuine self and I think the students know this and respond to it. They trust me. They know I’m consistent and that I will be here for them. They tell me things. I don't think they don’t hold back because of the color of my skin or because of my gender. Q: What’s the most profound experience you’ve had since you opened Curt’s? A: Every day is an “aha” moment for me. The students amaze me with their strength given what they have to overcome. Even to get to the cafe every day. I’m so proud of our students. There’s Claude who came to us with a 2.0 GPA and is now working at Linz and Vail and has a 3.9 GPA. We have students working at Whole Foods, at Starbucks and Valli and Edzos, kids who didn't think this was ever going to be in their future. The joy I feel when they get their food service certificates, which for many is the first educational success they've had. Their strength gives me my strength. Q: How did Bey Bradford’s death affect you, especially in light of Curt’s mission [Bejamin "Bo" Mandujano-Bradford was a Curt’s student who was shot and killed on January 19, 2016]? A: It made me want to do better…faster. I was amazed at how the community stepped up and embraced Bo’s family and our organization and raised the money for his burial. But it was the first time I really saw what students had been telling me. This was just another candlelight vigil for them, though it was a first for me. It was a norm for them that I just didn’t realize, even though they'd been telling me. It was one of the hardest nights of my life. Q: What’s the most important thing Evanston residents can do to reduce violence? A: Look people in the eye. Don’t judge them. Many of us in Evanston don’t judge people by the color of their skin. But we judge them on where they live, or how they dress or talk. Sometimes we’ll look at the ground when we pass someone who scares us a bit. Let’s pick up our heads and be respectful of everyone as we walk by.

Susan Garcia Trieschmann is the founder and executive director of Curt's Cafe, which opened on Central Street almost four years ago. Curt’s is a bustling community gathering spot where customers “dine with a purpose:" the Cafe trains young men who have been in trouble with law enforcement—or who are headed in that direction—in life skills and food service skills. They are paid a stipend during the three-month training period and Curt’s then helps to place them in jobs.Curt's Cafe South, on Dempster and Dodge, works with young women. Nina Kavin asked Susan about the Cafe, the young people it serves, and how her work helps to reduce violence in Evanston. Q: Do you think violence is an issue in Evanston? A: It is for some people in our community. Yes. It is an issue for a group of young people who are under-served, who haven’t figured how to get along better, and for whom constant disappointment and failure, hunger, lack of housing, lack of opportunity, turns into anger, which then turns into violence. Q: How do you think Curt’s helps to prevent violence? A: We help kids on that spectrum re-establish a purpose in the community, regain a sense of hope. Many of our students are young parents, and so we hope that what they learn at Curt’s they will in turn teach their children, and in that way we are working to break a cycle. Q: Why did you open Curt’s Cafe? A: I opened the cafe because I felt that a segment of our community wasn't being heard or serviced, and that they were falling through the cracks—young men between the ages of 15 and 24 who had high contact with the justice system. I thought I could help that particular demographic. I've done a lot of work in restorative justice, and I’ve sat in many peace circles with young men who’ve been in trouble with law enforcement, and over and over again they would say that they wouldn’t have committed the crime if they had had a job. Now, they might have needed housing or tutoring or various other services, but what came out of their mouths was that they wanted to work. So I decided that I would start an organization committed to workforce training for these young men, but also offer help with the other things they needed. Q: Why did you pick a cafe? A: My background is in catering and restaurants. I know the restaurant business and I get excited about it. I also did research and discovered that food service is the second or third highest hiring sector in the economy. So I thought, if I’m going to do workforce training, I should do it in an area I know well, that also happens to hire a lot of people. Q: In addition to job training, what else do you provide for Curt’s students? A: Our program is 50 percent life skills education and 50 percent job training. In addition to teaching our students food service skills, we provide them with access to a full-time social worker who can help them with housing issues, getting their drivers licenses and IDs, working through trauma that many of them have experienced. We help them with life skills anywhere from anger management and understanding appropriate relationships to balancing a budget and developing a resume. Q: How did you come up with the program model? A: I formed a youth board which consisted of two brothers who had just got out of prison, three young men with whom I’d sat in peace circles [this is an alternative to going to jail, where the offender sits with the victim and members of the community to discuss the incident and take ownership of it], and another young man who was at risk of going to jail. They told me that they would only participate in this kind of program if they could be paid for the training. That they were tired of organizations making them promises that didn’t pan out. It was important to them that they would be paid while they figured out how to move their lives forward. So we decided on a stipend for the three-month training. Q: Where do most of Curt’s students come from, and how do they find out about Curt’s? A: Most of our students come from the area around the high school and also south Evanston, close to Howard Street. They hear about us from probation officers and social workers, and now, because we have been around for a while and because they like and trust us, we have a lot of word-of-mouth referrals. There are a lot of very good services in Evanston for fourth to sixth graders, like Y.O.U. and the Youth Job Center. The problem is that so many of these kids don’t have parents who are in a position to advocate for them, to recommend these programs to them, and so they fall through the cracks. Many of the kids we work with have parents who have issues themselves, and in many cases, they’ve had to raise themselves. And that’s where the breakdown is. Q: Have you been personally affected by violence in Evanston? A: Before I opened the cafe, I’d been a victim of theft, small stuff. But since I opened the cafe I have become much closer to violence. Through working with and talking to our students, I’ve learned about violence that goes on behind closed doors, especially toward young women, but also toward the young men from some of their parents or other young men with whom they've had conflict. Often as long as 10 years earlier. Q: Are there challenges working with young men most of whom are African American while you are white? A: I have never had a problem with this. I am my genuine self and I think the students know this and respond to it. They trust me. They know I’m consistent and that I will be here for them. They tell me things. I don't think they don’t hold back because of the color of my skin or because of my gender. Q: What’s the most profound experience you’ve had since you opened Curt’s? A: Every day is an “aha” moment for me. The students amaze me with their strength given what they have to overcome. Even to get to the cafe every day. I’m so proud of our students. There’s Claude who came to us with a 2.0 GPA and is now working at Linz and Vail and has a 3.9 GPA. We have students working at Whole Foods, at Starbucks and Valli and Edzos, kids who didn't think this was ever going to be in their future. The joy I feel when they get their food service certificates, which for many is the first educational success they've had. Their strength gives me my strength. Q: How did Bey Bradford’s death affect you, especially in light of Curt’s mission [Bejamin "Bo" Mandujano-Bradford was a Curt’s student who was shot and killed on January 19, 2016]? A: It made me want to do better…faster. I was amazed at how the community stepped up and embraced Bo’s family and our organization and raised the money for his burial. But it was the first time I really saw what students had been telling me. This was just another candlelight vigil for them, though it was a first for me. It was a norm for them that I just didn’t realize, even though they'd been telling me. It was one of the hardest nights of my life. Q: What’s the most important thing Evanston residents can do to reduce violence? A: Look people in the eye. Don’t judge them. Many of us in Evanston don’t judge people by the color of their skin. But we judge them on where they live, or how they dress or talk. Sometimes we’ll look at the ground when we pass someone who scares us a bit. Let’s pick up our heads and be respectful of everyone as we walk by.

"I realized that I feel the deepest pain and sympathy for whoever it was holding the gun, pulling the trigger." Two years ago on one of the first warm nights of Spring, I sat in my south Evanston apartment with windows and doors wide open. All of sudden four gunshots blasted right outside and I found myself on the ground in my own home while my fiance grabbed the phone to call 911. Once we saw the lights from police cars in the windows we went outside and saw a young man from our community laying on the ground, weeping in a puddle of his own blood. He was taken to intensive care at St. Francis hospital and as far as I know he survived. What that experience made evident to me is that the victims and perpetrators of violent crimes are certainly not the only ones affected. For the first time ever I became acutely aware of the fact that every time I hear sirens while out and about there is very likely someone from my community in pain and in deep fear in some scary and potentially critical situation somewhere near. Somehow that wasn't clear before. I'd become numb to how much happens all the time. As I reflected over the weeks and months that followed the shooting outside my home, I realized that I feel the deepest pain and sympathy for whoever it was holding the gun, pulling the trigger. I recognize that it must be nothing short of terrifying to sincerely believe that perpetrating such horrific acts will somehow make any situation better.

"I realized that I feel the deepest pain and sympathy for whoever it was holding the gun, pulling the trigger." Two years ago on one of the first warm nights of Spring, I sat in my south Evanston apartment with windows and doors wide open. All of sudden four gunshots blasted right outside and I found myself on the ground in my own home while my fiance grabbed the phone to call 911. Once we saw the lights from police cars in the windows we went outside and saw a young man from our community laying on the ground, weeping in a puddle of his own blood. He was taken to intensive care at St. Francis hospital and as far as I know he survived. What that experience made evident to me is that the victims and perpetrators of violent crimes are certainly not the only ones affected. For the first time ever I became acutely aware of the fact that every time I hear sirens while out and about there is very likely someone from my community in pain and in deep fear in some scary and potentially critical situation somewhere near. Somehow that wasn't clear before. I'd become numb to how much happens all the time. As I reflected over the weeks and months that followed the shooting outside my home, I realized that I feel the deepest pain and sympathy for whoever it was holding the gun, pulling the trigger. I recognize that it must be nothing short of terrifying to sincerely believe that perpetrating such horrific acts will somehow make any situation better. -- Rachel Goldberg

On a recent rainy Sunday afternoon, Nina Kavin sat down with Dickelle Fonda and her husband Jevoid Simmons in their cozy home on a quiet cul-de-sac in Evanston’s Second Ward to talk about violence and safety in Evanston. Dickelle is a psychotherapist in private practice and a community activist. Jevoid is an artist and Director of Employee Relations at the Art Institute of Chicago [Read about and view Jevoid’s work here ] Dickelle was raised in New York, and lived in Texas, Washington and Iowa before moving to Evanston with Jevoid in 1980. Jevoid was born in Alabama and moved with his family to Iowa as a young child. In Iowa, Jevoid worked as a Deputy probation officer for juveniles for several years while Dickelle did intensive in-home family therapy. The two met in 1976 while working on opposite sides of a juvenile court case. The couple has a 30-year-old son, and two other young adults who became part of their family when they were teenagers. Q: Why did you choose to live in Evanston? A (Dickelle): For a short time after we left Iowa, we lived in Oak Park. But we’d find ourselves coming to Evanston on weekends to run on the lake front, so we decided to move here. Q: How did you decide on this neighborhood? A (Dickelle): This is the part of Evanston that is actually integrated in it's diversity. It’s what people like to think all of Evanston is about. Everyone knows that Evanston is diverse, but it’s mostly not integrated. As an interracial family, we wanted our neighborhood to reflect all of our family, so we chose this community. Our neighborhood is a real mix. It’s full of progressives, social activists, artists, writers, working class and professionals; all ages, races, and cultures. We are a well-organized neighborhood and have been for the past 30 years. We have good working relationships with the city departments. Q: Do you feel safe in your neighborhood? A (Dickelle): We think it’s a safe neighborhood. We wouldn’t have moved here to raise our family if it wasn’t. Things happen sometimes, but people watch out for each other and respond quickly. The police are responsive. There have been homicides, but they’re not random. They were generated by arguments between specific people over specific situations. Most of the violent crime is between young people who have been devalued so it’s a question of how much they value their own lives. Some people avoid our neighborhood because of the perception that it’s not safe. The Heartwood Center, which opened six years ago, Curt’s Cafe South, which opened about a year ago, and recently Valli Produce, have brought people into the neighborhood who would otherwise not have come, and they are discovering a unique and interesting community they did not know existed. Q: Do the police do a good job managing violence in Evanston? A (Dickelle): I think there is over-policing in certain neighborhoods, especially in the Second, Fifth and Ninth wards, which is where the majority of people of color reside. While we have not seen the type of violence that's occurred in Ferguson, Cleveland, even Madison, where unarmed young black men were shot by police, there are other forms of violence that youth of color experience here; the psychic or psychological violence that results from being stopped randomly, frisked and questioned. In our home, while our young people were teenagers, they would often come home with stories about being stopped at random and being pushed up against cars or walls, handcuffed and searched. These micro-aggressions toward young men of color leave them feeling degraded and humiliated and always hypervigilent. They begin to expect this treatment by police. They’re taught to prepare for it, how to behave when it happens. Their white peers don't have to deal with this. (Jevoid): Police officers don’t develop their biases in a vacuum. Growing up in our society, its difficult to escape developing biases, which are often unconscious. Who the police view as a criminal problem is reflective of what the larger society views--black and brown young men. Police attitudes are the product of our society and their communities, and many of our police officers come from homogeneous communities. This said, they shouldn’t be allowed to be in their role without being required to seriously examine and deal with their own biases. This is true for all officers regardless of color. No one should get a pass. (Dickelle): Right now, young people of color don’t trust cops, and so when things happen, they won’t tell them what’s going on. Q: What can we do to improve the relationship between Evanston's police and the community? A (Jevoid): We like Chief Eddington and what he’s trying to do. Recently he started ongoing training for the police department to address bias, perceptions and prejudices. Still, our community and the broader society hasn't had the really hard and uncomfortable conversations about the legacy of slavery on the country's psyche and the systemic inequities that have grown out of it. White people are more likely to see the police as their protector. Older African Americans and Hispanics are more likely to call for help. But, as Dickelle said, young African Americans are far more reluctant to depend on the police or see them as friendly. I think we have to get the relationship between the community and the police started at a very early age so that we can change the perceptions of the police toward African American and other brown kids and vice versa. Start with little kids. Cops could come by on bikes and play ball with them. That used to happen more, but it doesn’t happen as much now. Kids need to know and feel that the police are not here to harass, but to protect and serve them too. The police have to change. It won’t happen overnight. But having said that, it comes down to the fact that communities have to change, because police come from communities. Q: So police/community relations and violence is a small part of a larger issue? A (Dickelle): Yes. It’s really difficult to talk about violence in a vacuum. When conflict is addressed with violence on a national and international level we have already established a norm for resolving differences. This unfortunately is the world that our youth have grown up in, learned from, and emulate. (Jevoid): We also have to look at what’s happened to families. Look at all the black and brown dads who were jailed in the 80s and 90s for small infractions in such large numbers and with no resources to fight the system. There’s a different setup for different people: black life is just not valued the same as white life. There’s unfair justice. Q: What can white residents in Evanston do to help reduce the violence that mostly affects the African American community? (Jevoid): I love that we came to Evanston to raise our family. But Evanston has issues too, and, as Dickelle said, many well-meaning people don’t get what the issues are. There is an “it” that they skirt around. And it’s really important that we get to “it.” We have to do some serious talking! Black and brown people feel “it” because "it" happens to them. But “it” has never been resolved. If you haven’t experienced it from a personal standpoint it’s difficult to relate to. White people who live in Evanston need to engage in self-assessment and engage in dialogue. White people who “get it” can help other white people understand that the negative impact of poverty, of violence, is on the whole, not a part. I think that the best diversity and inclusion trainers can be white males who “get it.” They can be the best advocates for change among white citizens. And Evanston is the ideal place for people to recognize that there are issues here and work on them. Because if we can do it here, then there is hope for other places. There are many folks here who are working on these issues. Evanston is a great place to do self-reflection. And it really is a two-way thing. For African Americans to give and to engage in dialogue, white people must recognize the learning process. We have to meet in the middle, not from the margins. People may say the wrong things, but we all have to be willing to forgive each other if wrong things are said by people with good hearts and good intentions. I would love to see in this microcosm that is Evanston, conversations between well-meaning people who want to grow to have more compassion, to not make assumptions. Black on black crime is a complex and serious problem. It's possible to attribute it to so many young black men having limited legitimate access to get the things they see all around them. There may be a belief that the broader community and society does not care about them, which may result in less care for each other. Lack of opportunity can lead to a sense of desperation and hopelessness. Over so many years, communities have been decimated. Families have been torn apart. Opportunity is the main thing. Locally, Kevin Brown’s Youth and Young Adult Division’s outreach work in the city is a really important step in reaching this segment of our youth.#dearevanston.

On a recent rainy Sunday afternoon, Nina Kavin sat down with Dickelle Fonda and her husband Jevoid Simmons in their cozy home on a quiet cul-de-sac in Evanston’s Second Ward to talk about violence and safety in Evanston. Dickelle is a psychotherapist in private practice and a community activist. Jevoid is an artist and Director of Employee Relations at the Art Institute of Chicago [Read about and view Jevoid’s work here ]. Dickelle was raised in New York, and lived in Texas, Washington and Iowa before moving to Evanston with Jevoid in 1980. Jevoid was born in Alabama and moved with his family to Iowa as a young child. In Iowa, Jevoid worked as a Deputy probation officer for juveniles for several years while Dickelle did intensive in-home family therapy. The two met in 1976 while working on opposite sides of a juvenile court case. The couple has a 30-year-old son, and two other young adults who became part of their family when they were teenagers. Q: Why did you choose to live in Evanston? A (Dickelle): For a short time after we left Iowa, we lived in Oak Park. But we’d find ourselves coming to Evanston on weekends to run on the lake front, so we decided to move here. Q: How did you decide on this neighborhood? A (Dickelle): This is the part of Evanston that is actually integrated in it's diversity. It’s what people like to think all of Evanston is about. Everyone knows that Evanston is diverse, but it’s mostly not integrated. As an interracial family, we wanted our neighborhood to reflect all of our family, so we chose this community. Our neighborhood is a real mix. It’s full of progressives, social activists, artists, writers, working class and professionals; all ages, races, and cultures. We are a well-organized neighborhood and have been for the past 30 years. We have good working relationships with the city departments. Q: Do you feel safe in your neighborhood? A (Dickelle): We think it’s a safe neighborhood. We wouldn’t have moved here to raise our family if it wasn’t. Things happen sometimes, but people watch out for each other and respond quickly. The police are responsive. There have been homicides, but they’re not random. They were generated by arguments between specific people over specific situations. Most of the violent crime is between young people who have been devalued so it’s a question of how much they value their own lives. Some people avoid our neighborhood because of the perception that it’s not safe. The Heartwood Center, which opened six years ago, Curt’s Cafe South, which opened about a year ago, and recently Valli Produce, have brought people into the neighborhood who would otherwise not have come, and they are discovering a unique and interesting community they did not know existed. Q: Do the police do a good job managing violence in Evanston? A (Dickelle): I think there is over-policing in certain neighborhoods, especially in the Second, Fifth and Ninth wards, which is where the majority of people of color reside. While we have not seen the type of violence that's occurred in Ferguson, Cleveland, even Madison, where unarmed young black men were shot by police, there are other forms of violence that youth of color experience here; the psychic or psychological violence that results from being stopped randomly, frisked and questioned. In our home, while our young people were teenagers, they would often come home with stories about being stopped at random and being pushed up against cars or walls, handcuffed and searched. These micro-aggressions toward young men of color leave them feeling degraded and humiliated and always hypervigilent. They begin to expect this treatment by police. They’re taught to prepare for it, how to behave when it happens. Their white peers don't have to deal with this. (Jevoid): Police officers don’t develop their biases in a vacuum. Growing up in our society, its difficult to escape developing biases, which are often unconscious. Who the police view as a criminal problem is reflective of what the larger society views--black and brown young men. Police attitudes are the product of our society and their communities, and many of our police officers come from homogeneous communities. This said, they shouldn’t be allowed to be in their role without being required to seriously examine and deal with their own biases. This is true for all officers regardless of color. No one should get a pass. (Dickelle): Right now, young people of color don’t trust cops, and so when things happen, they won’t tell them what’s going on. Q: What can we do to improve the relationship between Evanston's police and the community? A (Jevoid): We like Chief Eddington and what he’s trying to do. Recently he started ongoing training for the police department to address bias, perceptions and prejudices. Still, our community and the broader society hasn't had the really hard and uncomfortable conversations about the legacy of slavery on the country's psyche and the systemic inequities that have grown out of it. White people are more likely to see the police as their protector. Older African Americans and Hispanics are more likely to call for help. But, as Dickelle said, young African Americans are far more reluctant to depend on the police or see them as friendly. I think we have to get the relationship between the community and the police started at a very early age so that we can change the perceptions of the police toward African American and other brown kids and vice versa. Start with little kids. Cops could come by on bikes and play ball with them. That used to happen more, but it doesn’t happen as much now. Kids need to know and feel that the police are not here to harass, but to protect and serve them too. The police have to change. It won’t happen overnight. But having said that, it comes down to the fact that communities have to change, because police come from communities. Q: So police/community relations and violence is a small part of a larger issue? A (Dickelle): Yes. It’s really difficult to talk about violence in a vacuum. When conflict is addressed with violence on a national and international level we have already established a norm for resolving differences. This unfortunately is the world that our youth have grown up in, learned from, and emulate. (Jevoid): We also have to look at what’s happened to families. Look at all the black and brown dads who were jailed in the 80s and 90s for small infractions in such large numbers and with no resources to fight the system. There’s a different setup for different people: black life is just not valued the same as white life. There’s unfair justice. Q: What can white residents in Evanston do to help reduce the violence that mostly affects the African American community? (Jevoid): I love that we came to Evanston to raise our family. But Evanston has issues too, and, as Dickelle said, many well-meaning people don’t get what the issues are. There is an “it” that they skirt around. And it’s really important that we get to “it.” We have to do some serious talking! Black and brown people feel “it” because "it" happens to them. But “it” has never been resolved. If you haven’t experienced it from a personal standpoint it’s difficult to relate to. White people who live in Evanston need to engage in self-assessment and engage in dialogue. White people who “get it” can help other white people understand that the negative impact of poverty, of violence, is on the whole, not a part. I think that the best diversity and inclusion trainers can be white males who “get it.” They can be the best advocates for change among white citizens. And Evanston is the ideal place for people to recognize that there are issues here and work on them. Because if we can do it here, then there is hope for other places. There are many folks here who are working on these issues. Evanston is a great place to do self-reflection. And it really is a two-way thing. For African Americans to give and to engage in dialogue, white people must recognize the learning process. We have to meet in the middle, not from the margins. People may say the wrong things, but we all have to be willing to forgive each other if wrong things are said by people with good hearts and good intentions. I would love to see in this microcosm that is Evanston, conversations between well-meaning people who want to grow to have more compassion, to not make assumptions. Black on black crime is a complex and serious problem. It's possible to attribute it to so many young black men having limited legitimate access to get the things they see all around them. There may be a belief that the broader community and society does not care about them, which may result in less care for each other. Lack of opportunity can lead to a sense of desperation and hopelessness. Over so many years, communities have been decimated. Families have been torn apart. Opportunity is the main thing. Locally, Kevin Brown’s Youth and Young Adult Division’s outreach work in the city is a really important step in reaching this segment of our youth. #dearevanston.

“Everybody loved Dajae,” said Tiffany Rice, mother of Dajae Coleman, as she sat opposite me on an unseasonably warm and sunny afternoon at Curt's Cafe South last week. I had arrived early. I was anxious. I had never met Tiffany. And until last week, I had never sat face-to-face over a cup of coffee and a tuna sandwich to ask a fellow ETHS mother how she felt when she got the news that her son had been shot and killed near our children’s school. Would I cry? Would she? Would my questions hurt or offend her? I have two teenagers—a current sophomore at ETHS and a 2015 graduate. I couldn't help but try to picture how I would feel if I were on Tiffany’s side of the cafe table. But as new and uncomfortable as this experience was to me, it is something Tiffany has done many times over the past three and a half years. Turning her son’s short life and violent death into something positive for Evanston’s youth—for the whole community—is Tiffany’s singular mission, and talking to anyone who asks about what happened to Dajae, and why, is one of the things she’ll do tirelessly toward that end. Tiffany grew up in Evanston. She attended Lincolnwood, Haven and ETHS. Her whole family—her parents, two brothers and two sisters all live in Evanston. She has a 10-year-old daughter, Savannah. She’s committed to Evanston, and to the future of all it’s young people. Shortly after Dajae’s death, Tiffany founded the Dajae Coleman Foundation (DC3F), whose mission is “to uplift, encourage, empower and reward our youth.” She also sits on the boards of COPE (Caring Outreach by Parents in Evanston) and Peacable Cities, whose mission is to "stimulate, coordinate, and support the efforts of all in our community who strive to promote respect and prevent violence.” As almost every Evanstonian knows, Dajae was leaving a party with a group of friends at 10:30 p.m. on Saturday, September 22, 2012, when he was shot in the back by 20-year-old Wesley Woodson, III. Dajae was 14 years old, a Freshman, with just one month of high school under his belt. Woodson was charged with 153 felony counts, including first-degree murder and aggravated unlawful use of a weapon. Evanston police said that Woodson, who had gang affiliations, mistook Dajae for someone he knew, and described the shooting as “a retaliatory act upon an innocent group of teens with no gang affiliations.” He pled not guilty. Just two days before he was killed, Dajae had turned in an assignment for his Humanities class, a Belief Statement, in which he wrote: "I believe that support from family and friends really helps…My friends and family really care about me, they get me things I need, and they make sure I am always doing good in school. My mom pushes me to do better, she always tells me to never settle. I think the kids that are on the street not doing anything with their lives don’t get the type of support they need from family. They probably don’t have anyone to look up to.” DE: How did you feel when you heard that Dajae had been shot? TR: I felt so many emotions that I mostly felt numb. I wanted to know why? Why Dajae? How? It was as though I was there, but not there. I still feel that I’m in that same state. I haven’t come out of it even almost four years later. I know I have grief that I haven’t addressed yet, probably because I have been keeping so busy. I knew from the moment it happened I couldn’t let people forget Dajae. I wanted to transform what happened to him into a positive outcome. I knew I had to build off the momentum immediately after it happened. I didn’t want to let it go. DE: Before Dajae was shot and killed, did you ever worry about this happening to him? TR: No. My kid wasn’t the kid to get shot. And not in Evanston. If I worried, it was more about whether, as an African American boy, he would have negative encounters with the police or with educators. Too often, there are educators who relegate their own understanding of African American boys to the common misconceptions that float around about them. This results in them being mislabeled, and misplaced or displaced. Unfortunately, these are the shared experiences of some of our young black males, and surprisingly enough, something Dajae and I experienced when he was in fifth grade. DE: Did you know the young man who shot Dajae? TR: I knew of him. In fact, when my brother was a sophomore at ETHS in 2010, he dated Wesley’s sister. DE: Where is the process now? TR: Wesley pled not guilty. But we still haven’t gone to trial. It’s been almost four years. We go to court every month, and so does his family. I have to go through it again and again. I want this phase to be over so we can move to the next one. I used to have hatred toward him. Now I just want him to pay. I want him to be in prison for a long time. I’ll leave it at that. DE: Why do you think shootings in Evanston have increased over recent years? TR: It’s an issue between certain groups of kids. They’re in small cliques, gangs. They retaliate any kind of disrespect, especially public disrespect, with violence. Social media is a huge problem. Insults that are posted on social media lead directly to deaths. Before Dajae’s death, I had no idea how bad things were. I really didn't know the core issues that create conflict between young people had devolved to such trivial things. These kids have lost their morals and values. Some of them just don’t have any support. The thing is that there are young kids in these groups, and most of the time, they are not the problem. They’re reachable, impressionable. But there are older guys in the gangs who cause the problems because at some point along the way they fell off someone's radar, and now there has to be an extra effort to try to redirect the course of their lives. DE: If you could fix one thing to prevent violence, what would it be? TR: Education. Education is the turning point for everything. A friend told me of a study that shows that when kids as young as 11 find out how much college tuition costs, many of them just check out. They exclude college as a possibility and there’s a downward shift in their grades and in their interest in school. So that is an important age to target and give them more positive conceptions about their futures. I also think that school systems are designed without African American kids in mind. There’s little to garner their interest. For example, literacy is so important, but it’s hard to teach a kid to read if they can’t see themselves in the books. Literacy is the most important tool for every child to have, so books must include our children. That’s why the DC3F has a summer reading program where we select books for African American kids. Last year we read the Newberry Prize winner, "The Crossover," by Kwame Alexander. I work with Jarrett Dapier who is a former librarian with the Evanston Library. He really is the brains behind the program. He has a wealth of knowledge about African Americans and literacy, and he is really creative in his selections. DE: What kind of work does your foundation do? TR: I started the Foundation to celebrate Dajae’s life and to provide positive reinforcement for other kids in our community. We hold college readiness events, tutoring programs, a summer reading initiative, a $1,000 Dajae Coleman Achievement Award scholarship, and an annual #DaeDaeWorldWeekend that promotes the values that shaped Dajae's life, such as family support, determination and positive social interactions. I love kids. I’m an unofficial teacher. I believe that young people are the catalysts for change and peace. Read Dajae’s Belief Statement.