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in the nineties... hearing gunshots was not unusual. This was not public housing - but it was a high poverty area nestled in a very rich area (between Palo Alto and Menlo Park). Had the dubious distinction of murder per capitol of the country in 1993; I didn't think it was so bad - 23 murders (out of 23,000) after working in Detroit for several years (with 500+ murders a year). Had to learn to distinguish between three common and fairly similar sounds: firecrackers, backfiring cars, and gun shots.
Raise this because this is more common than just in "public housing." I was in grad school and this was the only "affordable" housing in the area - ironic, in the lap of obscene wealth in the tech boom, attending a very unaffordable U (on scholarship and working at the U - but for a very low wage), learning first hand about the realities that many Americans face daily in their homes and neighborhoods.
There was the time I dove in the tub due to very close gunfire. Don't know why, don't know that ceramic of a tub would lesson the impact of a bullet - but it was instinctive. Then there was the murder across the street from my building - there was a makeshift memorial for several months commemorating the event.
As hard as that was it was nothing like the lives of many of the families I worked with in Detroit - in the two weeks on the job a teen I worked with father was murdered, by the brother of his new girlfriend. That was just the beginning of my introduction to the violence that many people in this country live with in their neighborhoods. Almost every teen I worked with in Detroit in the early nineties had known a murder victim - a family member, friend or neighbor; too many had witnessed said acts of extreme and permanent violence.
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