Bay View A Dream Deferred.

I remember my mom coming home yelling my name and saying to myself Ah, Shit, as my mom once again yelled my name, as I immediately responded with I'm coming. It was as if I could no longer recognize my very own mother. Forcing her to scream, "bring your ass in this kitchen for we can discuss this report card" Please explain to me how the fuck you go to school every single day. And then bring home all Fs. What are you doing all day?

I remember being scared to go home '‘cause my mom found out what I did wrong. I could see the tears fall from her eyes. Or the look on my mother’s faces of frustration that her child was always into something.

This was something me and my friends would all get together and laugh at the next day. About how all of our mothers were bugging on our grades. There was a time where all I needed was a pencil. To keep the stresses of this world out of my mind. Sadly, this has become my reality that many of my friends I use to laugh and joke with are no longer alive or are now in prison. The San Francisco I live in today that I still have a difficult time recognizing could never grasp the things I've been through and do the same things my friends do. So who am I?

As a result, I often feel that my dream has become deferred now that all of my friends are gone due to community violence and mass incarceration. That has nearly affected African-Americans in every entire black community across the United States. I now catch myself feeling as if I'm hiding. As if it's just safer being silent these days. That the harsh reality is that the neighborhood I grew up in has sadly been a graveyard for so many young African Americans’ dreams.