Dreaming Beyond the Block

I am a 17 year old Black male from Down The Bottom in West Philadelphia. I’ve become too familiar with the sound of sirens and the cold feel of handcuffs. Gun charges became part of my life early on, not because I was out to cause trouble, but because it felt like I had no other choice. When it doesn’t feel safe out, you have to protect yourself. Who else will protect you? “Rather be caught with it than die without it”, became the mindset for me and my friends. I’m only 17, but my encounters with the law started way before I even hit my teenage years. The first time I was arrested, I was 12 years old. My friends and I were walking around downtown, checking if car doors were unlocked. It wasn’t anything serious to us at the time, just looking for loose change or chargers, but it landed me in a holding cell, staring at my mother’s disappointed face.

The moment that changed everything for me was when the attorney general’s office kicked in our door. My mom was sick, throwing up into a trash can while agents searched our house. My siblings were still in their pajamas, terrified, and my little sister, who was only five, cried, wrapped in a blanket while being carried down the stairs. Seeing my mom, sick and begging them to let her comfort my sister, made me realize that this wasn’t the life I wanted for my family or my community.

I’ve watched friends fall into the same cycle of incarceration (or death), their potential snuffed out before they even had a chance to make something of themselves. For us, carrying guns wasn’t about being tough — it was survival. But sitting in placements and the Youth Study Center made me realize that change was necessary, not just for me, but for all the young men stuck in this same situation.

During my time in placement, I became known as “the lawyer” because I would help other kids understand their charges and file grievances. So many of them didn’t even know their basic rights. The staff treated us like we weren’t worth anything, denying us basic human rights. I saw kids get hurt in ways that still stick with me, like at my graduation when one of the guys handed out pamphlets with his eye bloodshot and damaged after being restrained by staff. That’s not how we should be living.

That’s why the collective my mom and aunt started, Philly in Paris, is so important. We want to break this cycle of despair and create opportunities for young Black men and women like me to see that there’s more to life than just surviving Philly’s streets. We’ve raised almost $20,000 but need another $40,000 to make this happen by November. This program includes a 10-week course to prepare us for the trip, but more than that, it’s about closing the exposure gap that holds so many of us back.

Less than 6% of students who study abroad are students of color, and that number hasn’t changed in over two decades. But for those who do, there’s an 18% increase in graduation rates. We’ve seen firsthand what these experiences can do for young people. For us, it’s not just a trip—it’s a chance to see that the world is bigger than West Philly, bigger than the violence, the guns, and the fear.

I am at work now, trying to stay focused on a better future. But when I think about stepping off a plane in Paris, it feels like stepping into another life. Imagine a young guy from Philly, usually walking around with a hoodie and a ski mask, always watching his back. Now picture him walking through the streets of Paris, where he doesn’t have to worry about who’s watching. He can breathe, relax, and just be normal for once. That’s what Philly in Paris is about — showing us that there’s more out there, that we can dream beyond the block.

For me, Paris is more than just a trip. It’s a chance to rediscover myself. I used to be artistic as a kid, good with colors and designs, but somewhere along the way, I forgot that. I had to focus on surviving. Going to Paris could remind me, and other young men like me, that there’s more to life than just getting by. We could see that success doesn’t always come through money or power, but through creativity, passion, and the connections we make.

In a way, Philly in Paris is like a conductor — leading the way, just like Harriett Tubman did, but instead of escaping enslavement, we’re showing young people a path out of the “slavery” of the jail system. This program is about creating a way out of the life that traps so many of us.

To support Philly in Paris, visit GoFundMe