chaos.

after my yoga class last night i went to a bar on u street for a crime prevention meeting. this past weekend there were six murders in dc; two of them were in my neighborhood. two weeks ago a seventeen-year-old girl was murdered in a club just a few blocks from my house.

i grew up in iowa. miles and miles of stretching cornfields. we kept our doors unlocked. i often ran alone at night - even when it was pitch-black. we were scared of drunk drivers, meth trailers, and perverts who hung out by the swimming pool. in college we left our doors open (literally open, as well as not locked) and my brother sometimes slept on the porch in a hammock. not once did it ever worry me that someone might hold me at gunpoint - steal my belongings, rape me, stab me, shoot me.

i still don't think about it very often. i trust my neighbors. i smile at people on the street. naive midwestener? maybe. i don't walk home past nine by myself. i don't wear headphones or talk on my phone when it's dark. i lock my doors. i watch out for my neighbors. i don't want to become cold, guarded, and scared. but after the meeting last night i'm scared. i walk the eight blocks from my yoga studio home with my keys out, my body tensed, my heart beating like a hummingbird trapped in a mason jar. walking home the other night i saw a huge display of graffiti across the side of a yellow house. the owner was outside, a tall black man with curly brown hair. "i'm really sorry that happened to your house,"i said to him as i passed. he laughed and thanked me, but responded, "if i wanted a gated community that's where i'd live. this is the city. this is living."

sometimes i miss those midnight runs on a country road, but then i curl into the window of a cafe on a busy street, and i know this is where i'm supposed to be. i'm learning to unclench my fists.