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​I am trying to come up with a badass introduction to this piece (or whatever it is). But it’s not coming. I have written and cleared sentences, replaced words, paraphrased and all that shit. I guess I’ll just go with the natural flow of words, you know, let the words write themselves. Even though my absence — which seemingly caused an unprecedented “death” of Black Youth — was unplanned, it seemed like the perfect medicine…

​The crew shared everything. EVERYTHING. It was kind of easy to. We had all met at the same time; first virtually on a whatsapp group chat created for our would be Class of 2018— where our mutual tendency to cause a ruckus was discovered, and then in person during our data capturing where it was further established. It was beautiful; eight boys— me, Alan, Cruz, Banire, Henry, Emma, Sammie and Folarin— thrust into the fabled…