Philly crime made me consider a move to the suburbs. Here’s why I stayed.

Around 2 a.m. on Oct. 13, 2022, nearly a dozen gunshots scared me out of my sleep.

In a few hours, I was supposed to board a plane headed for Disney World. My brain was cloudy from sleep, so it was hard to process the absurdity of starting the day with murder and finishing it with Mickey Mouse.

I threw myself for safety on my cold bedroom floor in Mount Airy, and called 911. The officer on the other end confirmed that the silence I heard after the shots meant that they had most likely claimed a life.

As I lay there — heart racing and body slightly trembling — I thought to myself: I give up.

I could no longer live like this. It was time to move.

I fell in love with Philadelphia in 2013. I’ve lived here nearly my whole life, but that year, a school district budget crisis that forced thousands of layoffs shifted my consciousness and changed the way I looked at myself in relation to my city. I saw myself in the thousands of students who were being shortchanged out of a quality education, and felt a deep kinship and responsibility to them.

I was suddenly awakened to the need to live a life beyond just myself, and felt deeply compelled to love and serve this city and its people. I had found my calling.

At that point, I’d spent six years pursuing a corporate career, and suddenly I felt trapped inside a cubicle-shaped prison, solemnly mourning each hour spent at work. The commute to my office in the suburbs was a daily reminder that I was moving farther away from Philadelphia, the place I was called to be.

My newfound purpose came with all the excitement and butterflies of a young love. All I wanted to do was talk about this city and ways to improve it. I became focused, to a fault, and I’m sure my somewhat one-dimensional conversation cost me a few second dates.

I tried everything to find the best way I could give back to Philadelphia. I kept my job in the suburbs to pay the bills, but I also joined a neighborhood community group, continued a career development program at Girls’ High I started working on in 2014, explored local politics by becoming a committee person, signed on to lead a home and school association for a neighborhood school, and volunteered with a mentoring program.

In the midst of searching for my path, I noticed violence insidiously infiltrating my Mount Airy bubble. I’d always felt safe in my neighborhood. As a kid growing up, I’d hear occasional gunshots, but it was rare. When I was around 20, I witnessed a shooting, but because it happened in a neighborhood that was 30 minutes away, it felt distant enough to forget.

In recent years, the shootings have gotten closer.

But in recent years, the shootings have gotten closer. In February 2019, there was a murder a few doors down from my parents. Later that summer I had to dodge kids running for their lives from a playground shooting one block from my house. In March 2022, I heard close to a dozen afternoon gunshots while sitting outside working from home. Then there was the early morning murder before I flew to Disney World.

It had all started to wear on me. The combination of regret, frustration, and violence had quietly distressed the fabric of my resolve, until the once strong and vibrant threads of my spirit gave way. I reached my breaking point, and started looking for houses outside of the city.

I felt like a quitter. I was so disappointed with myself.

I read books about historic Black leaders like Ella Baker, Nelson Mandela, and Frederick Douglass, and I’d sometimes think about who I would have been if I’d lived during their times. And the answer was always the same: a freedom fighter.

But here I was, with the one life I had, turning my nose up and abandoning my city. I’d felt personally violated by the violence in my neighborhood, but my experience seemed almost trivial in comparison to what thousands of people in this city — who don’t have the luxury to run — live with each day.

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I thought, too, about the people I’d met along my journey to give back to Philadelphia. I thought about the mentor who inspired me with her purpose-driven life committed to bringing resources to my community, the neighbors who got just as excited as me at the prospect of planting a community garden, the grandmother I met who showed up at Samuel Pennypacker Elementary School week after week to read to students, the working woman who helped virtually organize volunteers she’d never meet, the young college student who helped build a website for a nonprofit community organization.

This city is filled with people who love it, believe in it, and are fighting to make it better. After launching a halfhearted search for a place in the suburbs, I knew I wanted to stand beside my fellow Philadelphians, not abandon them. They inspire me, give me hope, and give me reasons to stay

So here I am, happily still in Mount Airy.

My relationship with Philadelphia looks a lot different than it used to, though. I no longer feel the need to shout my love of the city from the rooftops, but I feel an internal, quiet commitment. I don’t expect major improvements to happen overnight, but I am bolstered by the incremental progress I see, like the launch of the street sweeping program last year.

I can’t know how this story will ultimately end. But I can say this, for sure: I’m still in love with my city.

Jasmine Schley is a proud Philadelphian.