North Philly shooting? Look closer, don’t look away.

I didn’t pay much attention to the four men who’d pulled up in the truck and were walking toward me.

It was late in the afternoon, and I was standing on a narrow North Philadelphia street that was home to my latest property renovation. Before buying the house earlier this year, I had never spent much time in North Philly aside from when I was in college in the early 2000s and commuted from Mount Airy to Temple’s campus — but that doesn’t quite count. My knowledge of the neighborhood was mostly limited to what I saw on the news and what people told me — often hearing it described as a “rough” area, with more than its share of violent crime, poverty, and addiction.

But rehabbing the house gave me an opportunity to take a closer look. Although, on that particular day, I was more focused on the to-do list in my head, and barely acknowledged the approaching men.

But just as the group reached me, I heard someone shouting from halfway down the block, “Yo Jasmine, you ‘aight?” It was one of the young men from the neighborhood, checking to make sure I was safe because apparently, he viewed the drywallers I’d hired with suspicion. Ironically, less than a year earlier, I viewed him with a similar wariness. But at that moment, I simply felt grateful he showed concern and took the time to see me, not as an investor but as a neighbor.

Hours later, seven people were shot nearby. Had the shooting happened a year ago, I would have read about it and simply filed it away as yet another tragedy in a neighborhood where “things like that happen.” But in my short time in the area, I’d seen enough beauty to know that headlines don’t capture the full story. After tragedies, we have to resist the urge to define the impacted communities by the worst things that have happened and look closer to see the humanity that exists there, too.

The street my property sits on felt intimidating at first. It’s a hodgepodge of three-story rowhouses interrupted by a few vacant lots, an unexpected community garden, some abandoned buildings, a half-million-dollar new construction, and an ever-present layer of trash. The tall brick houses make the small street feel walled off and tight, and the young guys who frequently sat on my front steps only added to the cramped feeling.

In the beginning, when I would pull up and see them in front of the property, I’d brace myself for tension, but the conflict I expected never came. They’d always politely move and have mostly stopped sitting on the steps. Over time, I’ve even gotten to know some of them, and they have their rough edges, but when I see them now, I feel right at home. They offer to help carry bags, move their car so I can park, or on that one occasion, yell down the street to make sure I’m OK.

I’ve been encouraged by the people consistently caring for the community despite the sizable challenges.

Another neighbor I met made sure I knew how to get a free porch light and invited me to a cookout this summer on the vacant lot behind our houses. She said the city wouldn’t approve block parties on that street anymore, but she wanted to bring people together, so the lot was the perfect place. The rain that day stopped just in time for us to eat, laugh, and talk politics. Since then, two new triplexes have sprung up on the lot, so there won’t be any more barbeques there, but whenever I see those buildings, I’ll always think about the bonds of community that were nourished on that ground.

But more than anything, I’ve been encouraged by the people consistently caring for the community despite the sizable challenges.

» READ MORE: A love letter to Philly block parties — and why the city shouldn’t complicate the permit process | Opinion

I met one neighbor after I overheard her complaining about the trash, and I often see her, and others, sweeping up, even though it seems to be a losing battle. Even the trashman sounded frustrated when he told me, “We’re out here all the time for complaints.”

Another neighbor I met started and maintains the community garden. She told me the neighborhood used to be a lot nicer, and she was worn down from fighting the decline, but I could tell by the way she lit up when she talked about the garden that she still had a lot more to give. She gave me a tour of the perfectly manicured oasis that included a sprawling grapevine, the biggest kale I’d ever seen, and an empty space where the yellow watermelon patch had been vandalized just a day earlier.

She even invited me to her home to see her thriving collection of houseplants. She sent me off with a large potted plant, and as I went to wave goodbye, she opened her arms wide and said, “You’re family now, and family hugs.”

Rehabbing a house gave me a chance to get to know a small block in North Philly I never expected to be on. There are a lot of very real and pressing challenges there that can’t be ignored — like the violence from the shooting — but instead of looking away, we need to look closer. We won’t see a perfect place, but we’ll see the familiar things that make us all human. We’ll see small pieces of ourselves reflected in the neighbors going about life, caring for each other and the community.

We’ll see a place not defined by its tragedies but by its humanity.

Jasmine Schley is a proud Philadelphian. If you’d like to take a closer look and add to the beauty in the community Schley writes about, she suggests contacting a local organization like The Village.