A conversation that we must have
How do we have compassion for others and personal safety?
I’ve thought about Nia Wilson every day since her murder. I did not know her, but in a way, I did. Every young woman raised in an urban area innately understands her death. We understand that, while riding BART with her sister, talking and laughing, Nia was vigilant. We understand that when we leave our homes — if our homes are even safe places — we will be watched. We learned to walk with purpose in some spaces, to keep our eyes down in others, to do whatever it takes to avoid becoming prey.
Nia Wilson was murdered less than a mile from where I grew up. My house bordered two worlds: If I walked for a mile straight out my door, I’d pass Fenton’s ice creamery before entering Piedmont. If I walked backward, ending at the site of Nia’s murder, I would pass the auto parts store where a man followed me, whispering indecencies so vile I stayed inside for an hour rather than risk the walk home. I’d pass the stop sign where six men surrounded my car, banging on the windows, laughing while I tried to show no reaction as my heart rate spiked.
I love Oakland with my whole heart, with the very fiber of my being.
I hate Oakland because it continually fails to address the disparities between my two walks.
I recognize that Nia’s walk was the harder one. I’ll add that I’m white, and know I can never understand how much more vigilance Nia had to practice than I did. But Nia still thrived. She’s described as “vibrant” — and I feel that looking at her picture. Nia was — like many young women — vibrant and vigilant. But she was murdered, senselessly, standing on the MacArthur BART platform.
I think about Nia Wilson’s alleged murderer. The wanted sign described him as a “transient.” Mentally unstable, in and out of jail. He represents another festering Oakland problem.
As our housing costs soar, more people become “transients.”
Some are down on their luck and need support. Others, like this man, need serious help. I know our leaders constantly think about how to help, and they haven’t discovered a solution. Criminalization of the mentally ill isn’t the answer — or moral.
But we don’t have enough facilities to care for those in need. Oakland has deeply felt the effects of mass incarceration; and, as a city, we reject that path. But if this man had stayed in prison a few months longer, Nia Wilson would still be alive.
How do we create policies that are compassionate for people with serious mental health issues, but that make life even marginally safer for young women? I don’t know.
When I first heard about Nia’s death, I flashed back to a few weeks earlier when I was riding the bus alone. Next to me was a man muttering to himself while rapidly reaching into his pockets as if he were looking for something. I noticed a knife clipped on his pants; my breath caught. I was scared, but I didn’t change seats for three stops because I didn’t want to offend him.
I didn’t want to offend him — that’s ridiculous. But it’s an essential question — compassion for others versus safety for yourself — that young women constantly weigh. When I walk alone at night, my instinct is to cross the street if a large man walks toward me. But many male friends (especially black males) have told me how much it hurts when they see women avoiding them. I want to trust my neighbors — but should I prioritize their self-esteem over my safety? The answer doesn’t always feel straightforward.
Nia Wilson shouldn’t be a symbol, but if her death sparks a conversation about young women’s safety, about public transit, about race, about the nuances of dealing with a growing transient population, then let’s make it a conversation leading to progress. We owe it to her.