Let the memory of Randy be a blessing
You can donate to his sister’s fundraiser for his funeral here.
Late on the afternoon of Sunday, September 18, STOP lost a dear member of our family, Randy Pouncy. At 31, his life was cut short by gun violence, and it’s with overflowing sadness, shock, and pain that we write today to remember his life.
Randy was a real one. He was someone who did not want the spotlight and always stayed above the drama. Randy was more concerned with helping his community and getting the job done. At his core he was about family; he loved caring for his nieces and nephews, his grandmother, and all the children and elders in the community. Randy was a listener and a thinker, a fierce fighter and a lover. Someone whose smile was infectious and whose annoying “wah wah wah” voice always made you feel better. Randy had a strong moral compass and gut instincts about the bigger strategy questions and what needed to be done. Randy also had an amazing ability to connect with people from all walks of life, make connections between struggles, and build relationships of real solidarity.
Randy was a STOP member and leader for over 14 years. As a teenager he joined the youth program Fearless Leading by the Youth. He participated and co-led our organization throughout the successful campaign to open a Trauma Center at the University of Chicago. He also participated in and helped develop the Woodlawn Restorative-Justice Hub. In recent years he often stopped by the office and offered veteran words of wisdom to the next generation of youth. Randy supported other fights as well: from affordable housing, to mental health, to workers rights, no struggle was lost on him.
Randy traveled to Honduras twice with the human rights organization La Voz de Los de Abajo. There he helped document human rights abuses, and connected with youth human-rights activists who were directly impacted by violence and repression. In Honduras he also helped build a new wing to a hospital in the Garífuna Afro-Indigenous community of Ciriboya. During one of these trips, Randy was looking out the window on a winding dirt mountain road in indigenous territory and saw heavy police and military presence. He was heading to visit a small rural indigenous community in the Honduran mountains. That community had been fighting against being displaced by a dam funded by investors looking to profit off of pushing people off of their land. The scenery couldn’t look more different from where he was from in Chicago, but he looked at that heavy police presence and said, “I feel like I’m in Chicago, they’re pushing people off of the land and treating them like they don’t matter, putting the cops on them if they fight back or just for being who they are.” Randy understood the connections between struggles everywhere.
When it came to fighting for his community, Randy was always willing to do whatever was needed. On trips he loved cooking for his peers and caring for others in ways big and small. He also, at times begrudgingly, sat through grueling marathon meetings where we debated what could be done to stop violence within the community or to win our campaigns. Randy was loyal to a fault and deeply committed to working for social justice.
While we will miss Randy’s consistent commitment, what we will miss most is the laughter and joy he brought to a room, and the feeling that he always had your back. Let us carry that feeling with us always, let the memory of Randy be a blessing.