Youth Rising: A Block at a Time

The sun cracked through the blinds in Malik’s room, casting golden lines over his sketchpad. His fingers, calloused from hours of drawing sneakers and cityscapes, paused as the sounds of morning stirred the Eastside block. Sirens, barking dogs, the rattle of a basketball on cracked pavement — a chorus he’d grown up to.

At 17, Malik was no stranger to the grind. His mom worked doubles at the hospital, and his older brother Marcus had gotten caught up — not with books, but the block in a different way. Malik didn’t judge; he just drew. He believed there was power in creating, even if nobody had told him that yet.

On this Saturday morning, something was different. Today was the launch of “The Youth Rising Initiative,” a new community space opening on the very block most people tried to avoid. Spearheaded by Bangarick Entertainment, the program was meant to turn empty lots into launchpads. One basketball court, one open mic, one pop-up shop at a time.

Malik didn’t plan on going. Things like that never lasted in the hood. They came with promises and left with headlines. But his best friend Tasha had other plans.

“Get up,” she said, busting into his room like she owned it. “We’re not missing this.”

“I got designs to finish.”

“You got excuses. Today’s the day we show up and show out.”

Malik rolled his eyes, but grabbed his sketchbook anyway.

⸻

The block was alive in a way he hadn’t seen before. A DJ spun beats on the corner. Kids raced around with free art kits. Vendors lined the sidewalk — not outsiders, but familiar faces: the Joneses selling handmade candles, Mrs. Cruz with her empanadas. At the heart of it all was a stage made from old pallets and painted with wild, beautiful graffiti.

“We made this,” Tasha whispered, looking around. “This is us.”

They made their way to the art tent, where local teens were displaying their work. Tasha had submitted a spoken word piece. Malik had hesitated to submit anything at all. But as he wandered past canvas after canvas, he saw one of his own sneaker sketches framed and pinned to the wall.

“You put my stuff in here?” he asked, turning to her.

She just smirked. “You belong on that wall, not just behind your notebook.”

That afternoon, Malik watched as the crowd applauded Tasha’s poem about surviving grief and choosing dreams. He saw a group of boys from school showing off dance routines instead of fights. He saw a mural being painted that showed kids with wings, reaching toward books and microphones and cameras.

For the first time, he didn’t feel like a visitor on his own street. He felt rooted. Connected. Responsible.

The founder of Bangarick took the mic at sunset. “We’re not here to save a block. We’re here to invest in the kids who already got the power to change it.”

That hit Malik hard.

⸻

Weeks passed. The Youth Rising space stayed open. They added classes in fashion design, podcasting, entrepreneurship. Malik started teaching sneaker design on Saturdays. Tasha helped run the open mic nights. Marcus, out on parole, came through to coach the little league team.

One day, a younger kid named Jalen tugged Malik’s sleeve.

“Hey… you think I could be an artist too?”

Malik smiled, kneeling down so they were eye level.

“You already are. You just need the block to see it.”

⸻

And just like that, the revolution began — not with riots or riches, but with voices, visions, and a sketchpad passed from one dreamer to the next. One block at a time.