While I Lost One, I Gained Thousands

NPQ’s column, We Stood Up, features first-person stories from workers, builders, activists, and organizers of their work and world. From inspirational stories to strategic insights and powerful solutions, these stories may offer a moment to breathe, collective wisdom, and the community solidarity we need to keep pushing toward a just and equitable future.

My daughter LoEshe was one of the most gifted conflict resolution mediators I have known. She had this rare ability to find common ground with anyone, regardless of the differences between them. She was focused on unifying people, sparking joy, and bettering her community. That was her gift and vision for her community, but it was cut short.

On October 20, 1997, at 16 years old, LoEshe was shot and killed, an innocent bystander to a shooting across the street from her school, McClymonds High in Oakland, CA. She was gone in an instant. In her memory, I founded an organization, the LoveLife Foundation, to honor her vision of a community that cares deeply for one another by providing college scholarships, financial literacy programming, and leadership development for at-risk youth in Oakland and across the Bay Area.

For twenty-nine years, I’ve led the organization named after my daughter the way she would have wanted me to. You see, LoEshe’s name comes from Igbo and Nigerian languages. The Igbo word Lolo means Love, and Eshe’ is Nigerian for life. Together, it translates to ‘Love Life’ in English, which is where the organization’s own name comes from. Some people ask how I’ve kept going this long, how I find joy in work born from tragedy. The honest answer is that the joy was already there. LoEshe put it there. I just had to learn how to carry it.

Despite the success of our programs, it’s not an easy time to be doing this work. Seventy percent of what we raise goes directly to our students and their families. We don’t have full-time paid staff members, grant writers, or a fundraising team. We stretch our resources thin to make sure the young people we help continue to succeed. In the last few years, we’ve granted scholarships ranging from $6,000 to $12,500. And from the time I launched LoveLife until now, I estimate we’ve served about 30,000 youth across all programs, events, and field trips.

More and more, what they need goes well beyond any scholarship or summer program. Many of our students come to us asking for help with basic needs, such as food and housing. I take every one of those conversations home with me. There are days when the need is bigger than what we have to give, and I have to figure out how to close the gap. But after nearly three decades of doing this work, I’ve learned to trust that when I need it the most, joy will find me.

Recently, I had lunch with a young woman who went to high school with LoEshe and was in our program from 1998 to 2002. She handed me a card telling me that my daughter would be proud, that Oakland is proud, and that she is proud. That kind of message is my joy.

And I’ve had many moments like this—many young people who have grown up and come back to remind me why this work matters. While I lost one, I gained thousands. Thousands of young people who remind me of my daughter and her unwavering commitment to unity, joy, and a better future.

While that joy is tempered by grief, I have come to understand that joy and grief can live in the same space. My mission became fulfilling my beautiful daughter’s vision. She didn’t get to see it come to life, but I believe she knows. Every student who walks across a stage, every young person who decides to stay in school, every life that turns toward something better, that is her work and her spirit moving through the world and making it better.