On the Good in the Badlands
My clients are called by many names: hustlers, delinquents, drug dealers, thugs – and all too often, lost causes. When I tell people where I’m working and who I work with (in North Philadelphia with juvenile drug offenders), I often get sad, sympathetic looks or quiet attempts to comfort me: That must be hard. That sounds tough. As if I am brave and noble for taking the subway and the bus twice a week to try to help these teenagers (mostly boys) to get through their six months of court-mandated drug treatment.
This is bullshit.