Double Dutch in a War Zone

And that's where the crowd turns, to the poetry of the streets.

At the crime scene on my block, another shift of officers arrived to guard the scene until daylight. Exhausted, the older residents retired for the night, leaving the young males by the bodega rapping freestyle. The little girls still jumping double Dutch caught hold of the beat and jumped in rhythm—"They call me Superman, cause no other nigga can outrun bullets like I can./Girly over there was chillin' on the block when all of a sudden bullets started to rock./I ain't dumb, a nigga started to run./That's why her mama grieving now and I'm still breathing." The rest of the group made gunshot noises indicating that his lyrics had won the battle—life goes on in the 'hood.

illustration by Jonathan Barkat

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• Brooklyn (New York City)
• Bedford-Stuyvesant
• East New York
• Arts, Entertainment, and Media
• Hip-Hop and Rap

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Forty-eight hours later, blood would stain the entrance to another building, two blocks up on the corner of Gates and Nostrand avenues. The crime scene is always the same.