The emptiness inside Sharrif Floyd was a hunger beyond his resolve.
In addition to needing sustenance, Floyd yearned for love, safety and the ability to trust as a child in North Philadelphia.
Seeing criminal activity on the sidewalks and witnessing domestic violence in his home was an acid that hollowed him.
“I watched my mom get abused growing up mentally and physically, so I knew what that was,” Floyd said. “Seeing so much that you shouldn’t see growing up can either help you or break you.”
The disturbing cycle continued. No one ever told him, “Sorry you had to see that,” or asked “Hey, are you OK?