By now, it's been more than three weeks since Freddie Gray died. More than two weeks since riots broke out and images of a burning Baltimore were brought to people's living rooms across the country. More than a week since Baltimore State's Attorney Marilyn Mosby announced that six police officers will be charged in his death.
We are all well aware of these facts by now. And it seems like everyone, from national media outlets to your neighbor to your third cousin's boyfriend, wants to share their opinion about what's going on.
I have been hesitant to add to that conversation, especially in this column. Because what basis do I — a middle-class white girl who's lived in the city for less than two years — have to comment on police brutality, racial bias and systemic poverty in Baltimore? There are voices much more qualified and effective than mine to speak out on these issues.
But washing my hands of responsibility and avoiding the discussion only makes me part of the problem. And my lack of insight just highlights the effort I still need to make to better understand my city.
Being a recent college graduate transplanted in Baltimore has added an interesting dynamic to how I've digested the events of the past few weeks. On one hand, I've felt a fierce sense of duty to defend my new home to out-of-town friends and family, to explain that what they are seeing and reading from afar isn't necessarily the whole picture.
But on the other hand, I've felt a sense of guilt in realizing just how limited my sense of Baltimore is.
And I'm willing to bet that I'm not alone in this dichotomy, considering the some 25,000 college educated people ages 25-34 who were living within 3 miles of downtown as of 2010, according to an analysis of census data released last year.
These young people, myself included, are clustered in neighborhoods that seem worlds away from Sandtown-Winchester, where Gray lived. And now that the National Guard is gone and the thwap of police helicopters is less frequent, it's easy to start disconnecting from Gray's death and all the problems it put in the spotlight.
But we can't let that happen. We have a duty as young residents of Baltimore, no matter how long we've lived here, to help move this city forward.
I'll admit that I'm not quite sure what that means, or how to go about doing it. But I do know there are lots of people more knowledgeable and brave than myself who have some great ideas to share.
For every upsetting image or offensive Facebook comment I've seen in these past few weeks, the spirit of young activists has helped restore my hope. Reading a story about students' insightful poetry in response to the unrest touched my heart. Seeing a dance party break out at a West Baltimore CVS the night after it was set on fire gave me some faith in humanity. Watching students lead a lively march that stretched from Penn Station to Centre Street left a lasting image in my head.
As these young people shattered the stereotype of apathetic Millennials, I realized that I have perhaps been fulfilling it. I'm already enough of a walking Millennial stereotype — that's one I really could stand to knock off the list.
So while I might not have any brilliant insight to add to the conversation, that doesn't mean I shouldn't take part in it. It just means I need to do a lot more listening.
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Ellen Fishel's column appears regularly in b.