 Loretta Ferguson is the assistant director of Mothers Working Against Youth Violence. She started the group after her son Angelo was shot by the police in a stolen car two years ago. (Photo by Xiaomei Chen) |
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Posted on 07/22/2008 9:20:59 AM PDT by Incorrigible
Loretta Ferguson is the assistant director of Mothers Working Against Youth Violence. She started the group after her son Angelo was shot by the police in a stolen car two years ago. (Photo by Xiaomei Chen) |
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CLEVELAND — Loretta Ferguson heard God talking to her when Cleveland police shot and killed her son Angelo after pulling him over in a stolen car in 2005.
She could have played the familiar role of the angry bereaved mother. She could have sued the city, hoping to live comfortably off a settlement. Her friends and family were shocked when she didn't. "I wanted to act ugly — ugly like Cleveland never saw before. I was capable of doing it, but God said, 'No. That's not why I took your son.'''
Instead, the 42-year-old Euclid mother joined with six other women to create Mothers Working Against Youth Violence. She now walks Cleveland's streets spreading a message that's equal parts rebuke and empathy.
"I tell mothers to take the blinders off,'' she said. "It's our sons that's out here tearing up our community.'' She doesn't pretend 18-year-old Angelo was a saint. By sharing his story and "keeping it real,'' she has transformed herself into an activist of a different stripe. One with a crusade that could spur healing in a city rocked by violence.
Angelo Ferguson died Dec. 11, 2005, after police pulled him over for driving a car that had been stolen at gunpoint. Police say he slammed the car into reverse, hitting the two officers who, in turn, fired their drawn weapons at him. He died at the scene, a 40-caliber gun in his waistband.
After the shooting, Ferguson felt helpless. A divorced mom, she had kept her four kids involved in church and tried to surround them "with good people.''
But when Angelo reached age 14, he began getting into trouble. She tried to provide alternatives. She disciplined him, but in the end, "he didn't want to be under mom's wing anymore,'' she said. The streets won out.
"I fought so hard as a mother to raise them,'' she said.
Her 17-year-old daughter, Diamond, agrees that Mom set firm rules and gave them a spiritual base.
When Angelo died, Ferguson considered suing the police. But that's when she heard God.
Now she is a street warrior who delivers blunt truths. Raised in Cleveland's Hough neighborhood and a graduate of East High School, Ferguson has a homegrown ease when she straps on her neon-colored Nikes and steps up to introduce herself to strangers.
Unhesitatingly she'll walk up to a clump of idle young men, always starting her lecture with an affectionate, "Son, just give me a hug. I love you. I just want to let you know my son got killed two years ago running from the police.''
Striding briskly down St. Clair Avenue last week, she thrust her homemade fliers into the hands of dozens of people, urging them to come forward with information on the murder of Jason Brown, shot June 27 in his Lincoln Navigator. Gently, she reprimanded a man who told her he had heard the shots and then the crash as Brown's vehicle hit a pole — but he didn't call police.
"When you hear a gunshot, I think you need to run and look out the window. It could be your loved one. So if you have any information, please help the family out,'' she pleaded, leaving a flier behind.
She and other members of the mothers' group are trying to change a culture. It isn't easy.
"But who better to figure this out than a mother?'' asked co-founder Pat Tinsley.
"We have to do something,'' said Tinsley, a day-care director who lost her son three years ago. "We're the ones who raised the children. If we have to come out of the kitchen and go in the streets, that's where we got to go to get our babies back.''
Sometimes the group's moms take a hard-nosed approach; other times the situation calls for a soft touch. When they visit incarcerated teens, they stand their deceased children's pictures up on empty chairs and try to win the youths over with love.
Troubled young people are starved for affection and for discipline, said Karen Elliott, whose 12-year-old daughter, Asteve Thomas, was killed last year by a stray bullet. They don't hear it often enough that their lives are valuable, she said. "If they can learn the words to a rap song after hearing it five times, they can learn to be productive citizens. They just got to keep hearing it.''
The seven founders say that when they met through an organization for bereaved mothers, they felt united in a desire to do something out of the ordinary. There's untapped power in moms sticking together, they agree.
"A lot of mothers, they're afraid of their sons. They're afraid to lay the law down and tell them when to come in the house,'' said Ferguson, who dreams of a day when moms from warring neighborhoods link arms and tell their kids they won't tolerate any foolish turf battles.
Mothers used to command this type of respect, but then the family fell into pieces, she said. With every flier she hands out, with each visit to a victim, she hopes to motivate people to stand up against violence.
"Law enforcement cannot arrest their way out of this problem,'' said Blaine Griffin, Cleveland's director of community relations, who called the mothers courageous for tackling some urban taboos. "This message is different. I've been moved by the strength of these women.''
(Margaret Bernstein is a reporter for The Plain Dealer of Cleveland. She can be contacted at mbernstein(at)plaind.com.)
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It would be easy to be cynical about this type of story but I have to admit I feel optimistic that this mother's efforts could make some contribution to growing a sense of responsibility in her community. The comment that mothers used to get respect is very telling. As the husband of a smart, industrious woman and father to a girl who is growing up to be the same, I support liberation. But when young women simply became "baby mamas" instead of wives and then mothers, it's really no surprise that families "fell into pieces."
FATHERS.
That’s what is needed in these communities.
And, like you said, it’s up to the women to make sure they have a husband and FATHER and not just a sperm doning sex partner that gives her a ticket to get on the dole.
Like every other problem in America today, this is the fault of liberal policy.
I just hope this catches on like wildfire.
“She could have sued the city, hoping to live comfortably off a settlement.”
The fact that she raised a bad kid isn’t our fault.
“Angelo Ferguson died Dec. 11, 2005, after police pulled him over for driving a car that had been stolen at gunpoint. Police say he slammed the car into reverse, hitting the two officers who, in turn, fired their drawn weapons at him. He died at the scene, a 40-caliber gun in his waistband.”
I thought the same. Her kid’s deadly behaviour would be a tough lawsuit to win.
We've got a group here in Minneapolis called Mad Dads with a similar mission: Mad Dads
I doubt it, the welfare state won’t allow it......
When you fight the streets, you always lose. People love the street too much.
I got a better idea, Loretta; how about if you just don’t steal somebody’s car at gunpoint?
If her son had tried that with me, we wouldn’t have to blame the polce...
“Mothers used to command this type of respect, but then the family fell into pieces, she said.”
I do agree with you. Dads should be involved with their kids lives. (My dad is a Big Brother and in a few years I'll join the organization, tooo.) Any male can be a sperm donor - but men you NEED TO BE A DAD!!!
Women have lost the place they once held in our society by thier own actions. Men have had thier place stolen by the courts and the education system.(men are evil and women are equal). That’s not the way the play was written. When we don’t play our assigned roles there will be strife. It’s just that simple.
This reminds me of an old Playboy cartoon from about forty years ago.
Two cops are beating a street musician. Two hippies walk by and one says to the other...”How else can we stop violins in the streets!”
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