“I Was Finna Go, But I Used to Go Every Sunday”: A Community’s Cry for Safety and Justice

“I Was Finna Go, But I Used to Go Every Sunday”: A Community’s Cry for Safety and Justice

June 23, 2025 — Across neighborhoods, churches, and social media feeds, a raw and emotional reflection is echoing through communities after a recent string of violent incidents has left families shaken, hearts heavy, and faith tested.

“I was finna go, but I used to go every Sunday ‘til that police harassed me… and man, I’m so sorry—someone’s child is fighting for their life. It ain’t safe nowhere anymore. Lord, help.”

These words, written in grief and frustration, reflect a broader sentiment held by many today: a painful mixture of fear, heartbreak, and disillusionment in places once considered safe—whether it’s a church, a corner store, a park, or the very street you live on.

The pain runs deep—not just because of what happened recently, but because of what’s been building for years. Some who once found comfort in Sunday services now find themselves staying home, not because they lost their faith, but because trust in the system meant to protect them has been chipped away. For some, it was a stop by police that turned hostile. For others, it was watching another family mourn their child while answers never came.

This latest tragedy—a young person clinging to life after a violent incident—has once again stirred a heartbreaking question: Where can we feel safe anymore?

Safety Shouldn’t Be a Luxury

It shouldn’t take courage just to go to church on a Sunday, walk down your block, or send your kids to school. And yet, for many, hyper-awareness, fear, and trauma are part of the daily routine. People are adjusting their habits, changing their routes, and staying home—not out of choice, but out of necessity.

When someone says, “I used to go every Sunday,” it speaks to a deeper loss than just a routine. It’s a loss of sanctuary, a loss of peace. And when they add, “…’til that police harassed me,” it reveals a layered truth—that danger isn’t always where people expect it, and safety doesn’t feel guaranteed, even from those in uniform.

Someone’s Child Is Fighting for Their Life

The heart of this outcry is not just personal pain—it’s empathy. A child, someone’s baby, is fighting for their life. Whether from a car crash, a shooting, or police violence, the outcome is the same: a family is shattered. And another community is left asking, How many more?

This isn’t just one story—it’s one of thousands. It’s a systemic call to action wrapped in sorrow. People are tired of praying after the fact. They want change before tragedy, protection before pain, justice before loss.