Connecting with Youth Amid Challenges

A young boy recently shared with me that he had to step away during a gathering with friends—he didn’t want the child to see him cry. This 11-year-old, with his buzzed hair and gap-toothed grin, mentioned that he loves our company because we feel like uncles to him. Then, his expression changed. He admitted he gets sad at times because his dad doesn’t want to connect with him. What hit the young man hard was when the child expressed a wish for his father to be doing well, followed by a heart-wrenching question: “But why doesn’t my dad like me?”

We all care about this boy; truly, what’s not to love? He’s respectful to his mother, works hard at school, stands up to bullies, and takes care of those around him. Yet, he’s just a child, seeking guidance and the support of adults. If we don’t step in, he risks being led astray by the streets.

This is the reality of our day-to-day work. Too many of us fall into the trap of trying to support these young men only after they’ve faced significant challenges. I’ve been there—I’ve been at press conferences following shootings, calling for change and more funding for programs that come too late, after a boy has already slipped into the system. Sadly, we sometimes find ourselves writing obituaries instead of providing help before tragedy strikes. These events result from our failure to nurture boys before the streets shape their understanding of manhood.

Now, when I mention manhood, I’m not talking about puffing out your chest or pretending to be tough. That’s meaningless bravado. True manhood involves discipline, responsibility, accountability, and faith—qualities that help one stand firm.

Every young boy learns from the men who remain present and show them the way. They don’t absorb lessons from slogans or speeches, and while the government might provide funding (and it has funneled quite a bit into our neighborhoods), it cannot create expectations. It cannot physically have those heart-to-heart conversations with an 11-year-old who’s questioning his father’s absence.

Just last week, I stood in front of our newly established Leadership and Economic Opportunity Center, built to support boys like him. Unfortunately, someone shot through one of the windows—a costly repair that has now happened multiple times. Still, we’ll fix it. But consider the target of that shot: it wasn’t a liquor store or an empty lot, but a facility dedicated to transforming lives on a once-infamous block known for violence.

This center is more than a building; it’s a safe space for job training, tutoring, violence prevention, and a learning environment for both young boys and girls. Someone chose to fire at hope.

I’m frustrated and upset about this situation, but I refuse to give up.

When I heard about that young boy and his reflections on his father, it resonated deeply with me. I don’t know why I felt that way, but I’m committed to moving forward for these young boys.

They need to witness the successful completion of this building to grasp what can be expected of them. I understand that while we can’t replace his father, we must be vigilant. We need to help him grow into the father he deserves, even if he didn’t have one himself. This is our mission, and we will not falter.