Palm Beach County residents were asked:
Please tell us about an important moment in your life that would help someone understand what it’s like living in your neighborhood.
The stories and micro-narratives they submitted (as part of the We Are Here SenseMaker project) are listed below. Click ZOOM IN to learn more about the community member and how they interpreted their submission. NOTE: Some stories were partially transcribed by volunteers who shortened the narratives and referred to the storytellers in the third person (e.g., “her experience was” instead of “my experience was”).
What it’s like living in my neighborhood.Well you have 10th ave where the young boys sell drugs and the park where we have our little league football. Things bad around here no structure at all. Hopefully we can come together one day and clean up the streets .
You have probably gotten this story a hundred times already but the 2 shootings that had happened this year. Our young men are dying for no reason. They didn’t get to live their life. This is not good. The community needs to work together to prevent this.
When I moved into my house in my neighborhood, there were neighbors and friends of mine that already lived there that were sitting in my driveway waiting to help me unload my furniture. I didn’t ask for it, but they were just curtious enough to offer me assistance.
When I was 16 I saw someone get killed. After that I knew the neighborhood wasn’t safe. I told myself that when I get older I’m going to do the right thing.
I mean pretty much what my sister said our family was very loving we had everything we needed when we were struggling we didn’t even notice my family with a great family and we stuck together through everything we kept our business out of the streets
I Remember as a young adult about 18-20 when me and my mother were at a local store and I was referred to as “boy” by a white man. My mother didn’t react calmly at all to this she yelled at the man for his disrespectful attitude and words. At first I had no clue why my mother would react like that.As time passed by and I grew older I realized she felt him calling me a “boy”was degrading. Because our past during segregation she explained how that reference would always be degrading no mater what.