Rashied Davis Story
A young adolescent boy walks through the ruins of his neighborhood during the Los Angeles race riots in 1992, trying to make sense of his surroundings. He dodges police that stand in the street with their guns drawn, passes national guardsmen posted beside military vehicles and stops to help residents struggling to put out a fire at a strip mall.
Later that evening, the 12 year old arrives home to a God-praising mother and aunt, both thankful for his safe return. He and his younger siblings will be confined to the house; his older brothers will roam the streets with friends. The security their father once provided was replaced by the false security local gangs offer.
Had their father been alive the older boys would have been home but since his death four years before at the hand of a teenager with a gun, looking for a few dollars, managing nine children is difficult, and controlling them during a riot is nearly impossible.
Who knows what prayers the two female heads of the household offered up that evening. All they could do was try to maintain order in an unsafe place. All they could do was run the children through their familiar evening rituals—dinner, baths and homework. All they could do was sit glued to the television with its continuous coverage and endless chatter from commentators attempting to comprehend what the 12 year old boy was experiencing first hand.
This was Rashied Davis’ world in 1992 as he walked his neighborhood a few hours after it erupted. He was too young to understand there was life beyond his existing circumstances and too focused on survival to realize something was pulling him elsewhere.