Love is Love

When a gang "let's you in," you're in. They allowed me to sit and listen as they talked. And I asked questions. And I began to understand their hatred for the rival who guns down their friend. They cried. They mourned like we did on 9/11. It didn't matter if we had a loved one on the planes or in the World Trade Center; we still mourned. Our soldiers were suited up and sent to war for the loved ones we lost. There is a similar and very real rational for a gang's vindictive shooting. Our soldiers sacrifice for American soil; the boys sacrifice for their block. The boys have a deep love for the street on which they were born and raised. Their identity is defined by their street. The streets are who they are; so they protect it. I remember the first time I heard Vince tell Black he loved him. "I love you too," Black responded. Their love for one another is like our love for family and friends. Their love isn't different because they are gang members. Love is love.