Like a commander ready for battle, Paterson anti-gun violence activist Liza Chowdhury huddles with her troops: a group of men who’ve gone “through the system,” some incarcerated multiple times, others former gang members who’ve fired guns and been shot at themselves — but most importantly, a group of men who are now “on the other side,” transformed.
For the first time, the “troops” are going to try a new tactic to stop the exploding gun violence in Paterson. They’re going to reach out to a group of high school kids to try to stop the shootings before they happen, said Chowdhury, co-founder of nonprofit Reimagining Justice Inc. and head of The Paterson Healing Collective, the group’s hospital-based violence intervention program that’s in partnership with St. Joseph’s Hospital.
Chowdhury advises the men to lead by example. “You can say, ‘look at me, this is where I’ve been and what I’m doing now to give back to my community.’” And if a student is feeling down and is wary of opening up in front of others, it’s OK to pull them aside to talk. She reminds them, “what we want is to build relationships.”
“Our mission is to stop Paterson youth from making the same mistakes [staff members] did and put them on a much better, brighter path by showing them that despite the odds it’s possible,” she said.
More radical steps are necessary in Paterson, and elsewhere in the state, as young men, mostly those of color in poor neighborhoods, are killing each other. It’s happening all over New Jersey, but Paterson is one of the handful of cities that, combined, account for a majority of the state’s killings year to year.
In the first six months of 2021, shooting incidents in Paterson jumped by 72% compared to the same time for 2020, while the number of victims climbed by 84%, according to state police data. Between Jan. 1 and June 3, a total of 99 people were shot in Paterson, including 10 who were killed and 89 injured.
The growth in violence moved Chowdhury, a former juvenile probation officer with a Ph.D. in criminal justice, and her team of “credible messengers,” to action. And brought them to Alonzo “Tambua” Moody Academy for Social Change, Paterson’s first alternative high school for troubled students. There, they met with about a dozen “at-risk” teenagers whose lives have been deeply impacted by the violence.
At the high school, the teens walk into the room drudgingly. After they sit behind desks arranged in a circle, the mentors start talking. They crack jokes. They tell the kids there’s pizza and drinks. They take turns introducing themselves and soon conversations start to flow.
Teddie Martinez, a Healing Collective program coordinator, is up first. ”Raise your hand if you’ve lost someone you love to gun violence,” he said. Most hands in the room go up.
One young man said he lost his father — his “pops” — who was shot “just last month.”
“How many of you wanted revenge when your loved one was killed?” Martinez asked. Again, a wave of hands in the air, including the young man’s.
Martinez acknowledges the raw emotions in the room and candidly confesses that as a teen he was in their shoes — angry, confused, and “after I got shot, ready to hit back” — but was adamant when he said, “that’s not the way.”
Take it from me, he said, adding that after multiple shootings, he’s “here by the grace of God.” Jason Davis, a former gang member and co-founder of Reimagining Justice, advised the teens to “stop, breathe and think,” before reacting.
“Those few seconds it takes to pull the trigger, are not worth your whole life,” he said. “We want to create a culture where we talk through what we’re feeling with each other and it starts here ...we don’t want to see any of you in a hospital bed.”
Chowdhury has high hopes this tactic will work. She’s seen it happen before, she said. She led a similar initiative at a school in Newark before the pandemic with “great success” and said the students who participated “were less truant and more engaged and all of them graduated.” Previously, the group has held violence intervention roundtables, support groups for gun violence survivors, and community events where people can learn about mental health resources.
And the efforts are paying off, she said. Since the program’s inception last October, the group’s helped 105 gun violence victims, of which only two have been re-injured, Chowdhury said. “People are constantly telling us how helpful being in our program has been and what a difference it’s made,” she said.
City police in July set in motion their own tactics, employing one they hadn’t used in two years — a “special operations” detail that upped the number of patrol cops on the streets on weekend nights. The result? 10 arrests, the seizure of two guns and 986 heroin packets and 349 traffic tickets.
Chowdhury said police officers are in the tough spot of having “to react to violence” but that a greater investment must be made to address its root causes, including poverty, trauma and mental health.
That’s exactly the approach Gov. Phil Murphy proposed in May when he unveiled a sweeping gun safety package that included in the 2022 budget an additional $10 million for initiatives like the Healing Collective. For the sake of these young men of color, their families and the community, I truly hope this approach works, and quickly.
Daysi Calavia-Robertson may be reached at dcalavia-robertson@njadvancemedia.com. Follow her on Instagram at @presspassdaysi or Twitter @presspassdaysi.
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