'What do you mean?' I asked.
'I think it's gang territory over there,' she told me. 'It's gang-infested.'
How do we decide where we will go and where we will not go? What had she learned about this neighborhood in the north side of the valley? How had she learned it? Reports of gang-related shootings on the local news? Driving through and seeing walls tagged with indecipherable graffiti, or short-haired guys hanging around with dragging pants? Or just a reputation that the neighborhood has acquired?
I generally do not stay away from neighborhoods labeled 'dangerous.' Perhaps I should. I offer a smile to people whose eyes meet mine, and I acknowledge the humanity of everyone I encounter. I do not recoil from someone who might look dangerous, according to whatever dubious standards determine this. Nor do I run to them like an innocent child and give them an opportunity to harm me. I acknowledge their humanity. This lessens the fear of the unknown.
I know that I could be the victim of an ugly collection of crimes. Rape, robbery, battery, murder. I do not walk through life, holding this in my mind. I make a daily effort to live mindfully.
I asked my sister, 'Do you think that I should worry about a gang-infested neighborhood on a Sunday morning?'
'Yes!' she answered me.
I decided not to go. Because my son is with me, he's never been there before, and I'm not sure how he would cope in a new temple. There may not be any other children there. They may practice silent meditation. He may decide this is a day of defiance. The 'gang infestation' is not keeping me away. Deep in the core of a gang member, beneath the layers of fear and ignorance and grasping, is buddha nature. Brutally disguised, it is still there.
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