What I saw and experienced during my upbringing instilled a lot of fear in my bones that I carried around with me into adulthood. When I encountered Restorative Justice, I was just scratching the surface of my personal healing journey. Sharing the restorative practices I learned was like a balm to my soul.
I’m out here trying to change the world, and watching my family disintegrate right in front of me. Maybe if I hadn’t spent so much time on Zoom, maybe if I spent more time visiting his room…. No one can save you but yourself, and when you live in a world without hope, it’s not crazy to lean into a life of coping. We cope with the pain, mask it or numb it, pretend it’s not there, forget with intention–because we’ve forgotten how to heal.
In the spring of 2004, Mayor Bloomberg had recently established mini police stations in a handful of schools and a couple of high profile incidents involving NYPD’s over-extension of their authority in schools had just occurred.
I am an Afro-Caribbean Muslim, a mother, and have a Masters of Social Work in Leadership and Community Forensics.
Growing up in Crown Heights in the People’s Republic of Brooklyn, I was always aware of the need for restorative justice and practices, but I didn’t know what to call it then. They were needed in my family, and the community at large.