“It Ain’t Safe, It Ain’t Safe”: Community Violence, Perceptions of Safety, and Systemic and State Harm in Black Communities

DISCLAIMER: In writing this piece, I utilized AI assistance (ChatGPT) to help revise and generate additional ideas for clarity and content development in my last draft. All final thoughts, opinions, and creativity expressed are my own.

“I don’t wanna die anymore. Lived so many lives in a row. Devil on the right, angel left..it’s cold. Won’t lack, won’t lack, won’t lack. I don’t wanna die anymore. The weather here outside…it is cold. Devil on the right, angel left. Won’t lack, won’t lack, won’t lack.” — G Herbo

Where the safe havens of white communities are provided with ease and comfort like checkers, growing up in the hood has been said to feel like a chess game. Though the above lyrics by G Herbo attest to his own oppression and devastations, the words ring equally true for the devaluation of, divestment from, and stories of many Black men and women in the nation. Where bodies are battered not just with institutionalized racism, but with fists, policing, and bullets.

And still. Amid violence, Black communities and people in this country are more than their struggles. We are hubs of joy, resilience, creativity, and cultural brilliance. From the Harlem Renaissance to the Black Panther Party and Black Lives Matter, Black folx have always found ways to transform oppression into liberation, pain into purpose, and even the bleakest spots into spaces of radical love, faith, and beauty.

In a nation filled with a recent uproar over an uptick in mass shootings, we ostracize the very real and lived reality…that Black ‘hoods’ are shot up every day. The perception of safety in Black communities is eroded as gunshots ring, police loom, and youth grow up in neighborhoods and homes where more than 40% of Black women experience violence at the hands of their partners and Black men self-report higher and more severe rates of intraracial violence.

Why?

Some blame systems. Others cast Black people as “statistics.” But rarely do we ask how the nation and its “good ole’ boys” have mishandled Black masculinity, queerness, and womanhood. How neighborhoods stripped of resources create desperation. And how all this goes on to fuel cycles of harm. Yet, even with this, it is vital (again) to recognize the generational assets and reclamation of Black communities, where kinship and culture continue to foster resistance and healing.

One key but underexamined factor is how early perceptions of neighborhood safety shape future experiences with community violence in Black communities. Growing up in spaces often perceived to be unsafe means heightened vigilance. But these same instincts can be criminalized by systems of policing and state violence, further compounding intergenerational and existing trauma. To effectively address violence in Black communities, we must confront the broader systems that enforce it — systems that not only fail to “protect and serve” (or “promote, protect, and prevent”) but also punish Black people for how we duck and swerve suboptimal conditions and learn to survive in response to threats, ruin, and insecurity.

Understanding the intersection of community violence and state violence begins by acknowledging how Black communities have been systematically divested from (of resources) and subjected to systemic surveillance. Many predominantly Black neighborhoods experience higher rates of gun and community violence, in part because they are denied the safety nets provided to whiter and more wealthier areas. This disinvestment breeds discontent, and that discontent often manifests in aggression. Against one another. Against partners. And against ourselves.

Then. The cycle continues. But what makes this ongoing isn’t merely interpersonal harm; it’s the architecture of systemic violence — the structures of policing, militarization, racism, capitalism, and punishment that keep Black communities under siege.

In Black neighborhoods alone, the very presence of state forces — be it police, courts, and/or prisons — feels less like protection and more like containment…and dare I say…slavery. Rather than fostering safety, “we, the people,” of the United States foster fear. This fear is then passed down to countless Black youth, who grow up with no other choice than to mistrust authority and perceive their neighborhoods as war zones. Because when constant surveillance, title 1 schools, and choosing between morals and providing for a family to feed is on the menu, what else is there to eat?

Structural violence doesn’t stop here. Black communities are also punished for their lack of “safety” through harsher sentences, increased incarceration rates, and — most recently — death penalties. These state-sanctioned deaths are the ultimate expression of state violence, stripping Black men of not only their freedom but their lives.

Addressing community violence requires a multi-faceted approach and a fundamental shift in how we view safety. Simply punishing violence after it happens is not the answer. Instead, reinvestment is key. Providing the resources, support, and opportunities that foster real security. Ultimately, the future of violence reduction and prevention in Black communities can’t be interrupted without addressing America’s role in perpetuating it.

Research shows that neighborhood infrastructure — encompassing housing, schools, green spaces, community centers, and more — directly influences community well-being. For some predominantly Black neighborhoods in this country, the combination of systemic poverty, segregation, and disinvestment creates environments where harm can both stem from and worsen these conditions. Neighborhood characteristics such as collective efficacy, job access, residential instability, and institutional trust all intersect to shape these environments. As violence leads to residents leaving, it deepens segregation and perpetuates further harm. These effects also spill over into neighboring areas. For Black youth growing up in this, environments where harm is normalized, these experiences profoundly shape their perceptions of safety, self-worth, and future potential.

The urgency of tackling these issues is undeniable. A dismantled, repaired, and co-created approach must consider the interconnectedness of community violence, state violence, and systemic racism. We cannot fully understand how early perceptions of safety influence later experiences of community harm without also acknowledging how state systems, from policing to incarceration, contribute to this cycle. The country’s complicity in the deaths of Black men and women — whether through violence in our streets or in our prisons — underscores the need for holistic, community-driven solutions that tackle both direct harm and the systemic conditions that sustain it.

Ideally, solutions should be twofold- reducing violence at the community level by addressing the root causes of economic instability and limited access to resources, while advocating for more equitable policies that invest in Black communities. The social-ecological model reminds us that individual actions are shaped by community contexts, which in turn are influenced by broader societal systems. To break this cycle, we need interventions that not only dismantle systemic violence but also create pathways for equitable investment in housing, education, healthcare, and job opportunities, empowering communities to rebuild environments and futures that are safe, inclusive, and engaging.

At the community level, this looks like reinvestment — affordable housing, mental health services, addressing K-12 education inequities, and job opportunities. It looks like abolishing the carceral state and replacing punishment with restorative justice. It looks like creating spaces where Black youth and adults can actually stay safe…and not dangerous.

At the societal level, we must challenge long-lasting and ever-present cultural norms that not only frame Black neighborhoods but continue to represent the rich panoply that is the Black experience. This includes shifting the narratives in media to promote equality, healing, and peace. Hip-hop, born out of adversity, has always been a platform for Black voices, stories, and embodiment. By engaging artists in conversations about violence prevention and reduction and community healing, we can harness the power of music to transform minds and rebuild our communities…the way we want them to be.

“The revolution will not be televised

The revolution will not be brought to you by Xerox

In four parts without commercial interruptions

The revolution will not show you pictures of Nixon

Blowing a bugle and leading a charge by John Mitchell

General Abrams and Spiro Agnew

To eat hog maws confiscated from a Harlem sanctuary

The revolution will not be televised”

~ Gil Scott-Heron

We need a revolution in how we conceptualize and enact safety in this country. One that doesn’t rely on the oppressive structures of the state’s modern-day slave patrols or on the sacrificial, burdening, “get it out the mud” self-determination of Black communities. This revolution must fight for the decency and justice of every Black life lost to the systems of community and state violence. It must fight for the lives of every name of every single buried Black person we have tattooed on our bodies…and in our hearts. So that those of us still here…and those of us yet to come…can live in a world where the weather isn’t always cold.

Because we don’t wanna die anymore.