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Unit7NotonMyBlockPeoplethoughtEthelArmsteadwascrazytostanduptotheyoungmendealingdrugsoutsideherhouse.ButEthelhadhadenough.Summoninguphercourage,shewentouttotalktothegang.Thisisthestoryofwhathappened.EthelArmsteadlikedthegrayrowhouserightoff.Ithadanextrabedroomandabigbackyardwherehergrandkidscouldplay.Themarblestoopwouldbeaperfectspottositonsummerevenings.ButwhenArmsteadarrivedhomefromworkthatfirstnightaftermovingin,shefoundabunchoftough-lookingyoungmensittingonherfrontsteps.“Excuseme,”shesaid,startled.“Ilivehere.”Thegroupofsevenyoungmenrosereluctantly,staringatherwithcold,hardeyes.Onceinside,Armsteadlockedthedoorandpeeredoutthewindow.Shewassurprisedtoseethatthemenhadalreadyreseatedthemselvesonhersteps.Incomingweeks,Armsteadlearnedthatherhouse,longvacant,wasusedbydrugdealers,whohidtheirdrugsunderthefrontsteps.Asasteadystreamofcarsandfoottrafficpassedby,thedealersconductedbusinessonthestoop.Addictsshotupinthepathbehindthehouseandurinatedinthebackyard.Armsteadhadnoillusionsaboutthemenwhooccupiedherfrontsteps.AlmosteverynightforthetenyearsshehadlivedinthetoughOliverneighborhoodofEastBaltimore,shelayinbedlisteningtothesoundofgunshotsasthedrugwarsraged.Butthishouse,withdealershangingoutonherstoop,wastheworst.Sometimesshecalledthepoliceseveraltimesaday,beggingthemtodispersethedealers.Butoncethepolicecardisappeareddownthestreet,thedealersdriftedback.Asa50-somethingmotherofgrownchildren,Armsteadhadnotimaginedfightingthisbattle.Butitwasn’tthefirsttimeshe’drisentoanunexpectedchallenge.Backinthemid-1990s,whenherowndaughterwasaddictedtodrugsandheryounggrandchildrenfacedfostercare,Armsteadgotcustodyofthethreeboysandonegirl.OnenightinSeptember2000,aboutamonthaftershemovedintohernewhouse,ArmsteadprayedtoGod.“I’mgonnatalktotheseguystomorrow.Helpme.”Thenextday,sheconfrontedtheleaderofthegroup,ayoungmaninjeansandawhileT-shirt.Armstead’sinsideswereturningover,butsheknewshecouldn’tshowherfear.“Thisismyspace,”shesaidcalmlyandquietly,keepingherfaceamask.“Ishouldn’thavetosay‘Excuseme’togetintomyownhouse.”Shetoldtheyoungmanthatshedidn’twanthimandhisfriendsdealingdrugsinfrontofhergrandkidsanymore.Theyweretostayoffherproperty,offthevacantpropertynextdoor,offthecorner.Themanwassilent.Armstead’sheartbeatroseintoherthroat.Thenhenodded.Thegroupleft.Butafewdayslater,theywereback.Armsteadrepeatedherrequest.Sherepeateditthenextday.Andthenext.Thenafunnythinghappened.Theybegantolisten.Theymoveddowntothenextblock.Whenwintercame,theyclearedsnowfromherwalkandcheckedinonherwhenshewasill.Beforelong,theytooktocallingher“Mom”.Hergrandkidscouldplayballinthestreetnow.Sometimestheyoungmenplayedwiththem.Andifoneofthekidsweretalkingback,someonewouldsay,“Don’tyoutalklikethat.That’syourgrandma!”Armsteadkept“fussin’,”warningofthedangersoffastmoney.“You’regonnagetyourselveskilled!”Shetoldthem.“Dosomethingpositive!”Peopletoldhershewascrazytotalktothosethugsthatway.Especiallyafteranothermomwhohadtakenastandwaskilledjustfiveblocksaway.AngelaDawsonhadwagedherownbattleagainstadifferentsetofdrugpushers—andlost.Inatragedythatmadethenationalnews,theDawsonhousewassetonfireandAngela,herhusband,Carnell,andfiveoftheirchildrendied.Aneighborhoodmanwascharged.Armsteaddidn’tknowAngelaDawson,butsheknewherchildren.Afterthedeadlyfire,shewasmorecautious—butshedidn’tstop.Andshedidn’tjusttalk.ShehasbeenadrivingforceinthecommunityorganizationBUILD(BaltimoreUnitedinLeadershipDevelopment).Togethertheydrovedrugdealersoffavacantlotandbuiltaplayground.Theyestablishedanextended-dayprogramatschooltokeepkidsoffthestreets.TheyprompNotlongago,Armsteadranintooneofthemenwhousedtohangoutonhersteps.“Hey,Mom!”heexploded,givingherahug.Hegotajob,hetoldher,adding,“Iwanttothankyouforallyourfussin’.”Armsteadismodestabouttheimpactshe’shad.Shesayssimply,“Itmakesmefeelgoodtoknowmymessagegotthroughtoatleastoneyoungman.”人们认为埃塞尔•阿姆斯特德准是疯了，竟然敢去面对那些在她房子外面贩卖毒品的年轻人。但埃塞尔已忍无可忍。她鼓足勇气，走出去跟那帮人谈话。下面就是所发生的故事。离开我这个街区琳恩•罗塞利尼埃塞尔•阿姆斯特德一下子就喜欢上了那栋灰色的联房。房子里多出了一间卧室，还有一个很大的后院，可以让她的小外孙和外孙女在那儿玩耍。那个大理石的门廊将是夏天夜晚坐着乘凉的理想场所。但搬进来后的第一个晚上，当阿姆斯特德下班回到家时，她却发现有一帮样子很凶的人坐在她家门前的台阶上。她大吃一惊，说道：“请原谅，我住在这儿。”那一帮七个年轻人不情愿地站了起来，用冷酷无情的目光盯着她看。一走进去，阿姆斯特德就锁上门，从窗口往外看。她吃惊地发现那几个年轻人已经又坐在了她家的台阶上。在以后的几个星期里，阿姆斯特德了解到她那栋房子过去长期空关时，曾被一些毒品贩子用来在前面台阶下面藏过毒品。当川流不息的车辆和行人经过时，毒品贩子就在门廊上做生意。吸毒成瘾的人就在房子后面的小路上注射毒品，并在后院里随地撒尿。阿姆斯特德对占用她家前门的那些人不抱任何幻想。在东巴尔的摩那个充满犯罪与暴力的奥利弗地区居住的十年间，几乎每个晚上，她躺在床上都能听到毒品战激烈进行时的枪击声。但是，（在）这栋房子，有毒品贩子经常出没于她的门廊却是最糟糕的。有时候她一天要报警好几次，恳请警察把这些毒品贩子驱散。但警车一旦在街角消失，那些毒品贩子们又会陆陆续续地回来。作为一个50多岁、子女已经长大成人的母亲，阿姆斯特德从未想像过要进行这场战斗。但这并不是她第一次奋起应付突如其来的挑战了。在20世纪90年代中期，当她自己的女儿染上毒瘾，她的小外孙和外孙女需要人领养时，阿姆斯特德就把那三个男孩和一个女孩领来照管了。2000年9月的一个夜晚，在她迁入新居后大约一个月的时候，阿姆斯特德向上帝祈祷：“明天我要跟那些家伙谈一谈。请帮助我。”第二天，她直接找到那帮人的头，一个身穿牛仔裤、白色T恤衫的年轻人。阿姆斯特德的五脏六腑在翻滚，但她知道她绝不能露出恐惧的样子。“这里是我的地方，”她平静而温和地说，脸上一直挂着装出来的微笑。“我本不需要在进自己家时还要说一声‘请原谅’。”她对那个年轻人说，她不希望他和他的朋友们再当着她小外孙和外孙女的面贩卖毒品。他们必须离开她的住宅，离开隔壁空关的住宅，离开那个街角。那人一声不响。阿姆斯特德的心已跳到喉咙口。随后那人点了点头。那伙人离开了。但过了几天，他们又回来了。阿姆斯特德把她的要求重说了一遍。第二天、第三天又重说了一遍。随后，一件有趣的事情发生了。那伙人开始听话了。他们转移到了下一个街区。冬天来了，他们把她房前路上的积雪扫干净，她生病的时候，他们还来看望她。不久，他们就开始喊她“大妈”了。她的外孙、外孙女们现在可以在街上打球了。有时候，那些年轻人也和他们一起玩。如果哪个孩子跟外婆顶嘴，某个年轻人就会说：“你不可以这样讲话