Reflection. Mary E. Latela August 1, 2015
Almost daily, our hometown papers and our national news report murder by guns. No death is unimportant, but the heartbreaking story of a young Black journalist is particularly worthy of note. Frustration, anger, and confusion fill the air.
Twenty-seven year old Charnice Milton, a smart journalist, decided to remain in her neighborhood after college, covering the hard streets of D.C., but focusing on the best of what happened there, championing efforts by young and old to make life better, to address inequities, to protect the children, to face the hard steel of racism.
On the night of May 27, Ms. Milton was heading home from an assignment for the Hill Rag when, according to Sarah Stillman of The New Yorker, “she was killed by a bullet aimed at another passerby. Her killing remains unsolved.”
A bright young woman chose to walk the neighborhood, to engage with the ordinary people, namely, the people who count. She was a quiet determined worker in a social revolution. She engaged with others directly, honestly, maturely. She listened to their stories, and retold them, so we could cheer as well. Ms. Milton did not lose hope.
May she rest in peace. Perhaps just one or two who read about Ms. Milton will be upset enough to take up the challenge of building up a neighborhood by empowering its people, by celebrating the everyday heroes, the moms and dads and grandparents who watch over their children in these hard, cold streets. She has left a candle burning.