"I think it's probably in my job description not to listen to violent, misogynistic rap music anymore."
"It's probably in mine too, but...rap music is all we have, man."

***

I've been thinking a lot about safety. Since I was in St. Paul this summer, and experienced a breadth and form of physical release/emotional revelation that made me realize that I had felt distinctly unsafe for a long, long time prior.

It's the thought that shows up in my empty headspace more often than not when I'm walking or drifting off to sleep, now. It shows up in my work, too. Do you think street youth feel safe? No. Mostly not. My job is, in large part, to help establish a framework of safety for them, to the extent that one can.

But the thing that I think is so fascinating is that safety is a visceral reality, to a certain extent, but it is also, hugely, a feeling. Something you carry with you, or lack. Project your confidence of, or lack of, and boomerang accordingly. Thus a woman is attacked and becomes skittish, more likely to be attacked again. Thus I walk the streets of the West Side at night without fear, and nothing happens to me. We carry our safety on our backs.

It also has to do with the people around us. Some people make me feel safe, and others don't. I hide from some people, and open myself without hesitation to others. 

Sometimes we think that we are thinking about something for the first time. I might be thinking about safety in this set of ways for the first time, but I have been thinking about fear forever. Also, I wrote a poem about this exact thing when I was 14, that I need to try to find.