Demonstrators flood the the streets of Baltimore, Maryland May 1, 2015 after an announcement that six police officers involved in the arrest of Freddie Gray face criminal charges. By Avocet Brooks Not long ago, my friend called to possibly cancel on me for a group outing this spring that we had planned since January. “I’m sorry,” he began. “But I don’t think our plan will work." Of course, this question was followed by an immediate and disappointed “Why?” We had the perfect plan, and I had an entire four months to get my hopes up. “Because my mom’s still nervous. The date is a bit too close to when the charges against the officers are supposed to be released. She thinks the results might cause more riots...she said it’s too dangerous.” Too dangerous. There was a time when I found Baltimore to be very relaxing. Whether I was cloud watching from the lawn of Druid Hill Park, or gazing out of the window of the passenger seat as I commuted to and from school—anything having to do with being outside was always a serene experience. Now, Baltimore is considered too dangerous . The sirens from the week of April 25 still ring in my head. At first glance, it seems as though the riots never happened. No one really talks about it anymore. People still go to Mondawmin Mall and students still wait by the bus stop. The stores are restocked and the physical damage has been mostly repaired. Everyone has seemingly slipped back into their daily routines. But look closer and you’ll see that the unrest has had lasting effects on everyday life. My friend and I rescheduled, due to the uneasy feeling hanging over our heads. Many Baltimore residents still believe that the authorities are unfazed by our protests and continue to abuse power. Some feel that our city was misrepresented by the media, and some feel that the riots are the only way Baltimore’s distress can be heard. The issues are still there, connecting and restricting us like an invisible thread. We talk about this a lot at school. When classes resumed, hundreds of students dressed in black from head to toe, mourning Freddie Gray and showing their support for the effort of change. The students of Baltimore City College came to school not only to learn, but to share and discuss the issues which occurred during those past two days. City College is a place where students know they are able to be heard, where their opinions matter. Much of that day was spent discussing and debating the truth of the riots. Many teachers shortened or even postponed that day’s lesson to allow time for these discussions and join in themselves. Student organized to spread awareness for protests that we wanted to hold. It was truly inspiring to see the youth active in other and more productive ways. What I gathered from these experiences is that Baltimore has come a long way, and has a long way to go. From the protests and discussions that I have participated in, I better understand Baltimore and its frayed relationship with the police. Seeing people from every ethnicity joining together to support change in Baltimore, whether through violent or non-violent methods, brings inspiration and unity to some extent. Not everyone in Baltimore is a thug, and not everyone approves of the violence. However, many, if not all advocate for change. This desire unifies the city. I am an advocate for change, and change is coming to Baltimore. Avocet Brooks is a sophomore at Baltimore City College.