Born a Crime

up behind closed doors. But not my
mom. She’d head straight out, and
as we’d inch our way past the
blockades, she’d give the rioters this
look. Let me pass. I’m not involved
in this shit. She was unwavering in
the face of danger. That always
amazed me. It didn’t matter that
there was a war on our doorstep.
She had things to do, places to be. It
was the same stubbornness that
kept her going to church despite a
broken-down car. There could be
five hundred rioters with a blockade
of burning tires on the main road
out of Eden Park, and my mother
would say, “Get dressed. I’ve got to