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“It doesn’t hurt as much anymore. In the beginning, it was really tough, when it’s the ones who are really close to you. After that, it’s like, ‘Oh, you got stabbed, no way,’ and then you just continue with your lunch.”

Azez grew up middle-class, but he says joining a gang wasn’t necessarily the clear-cut “choice” that police sometimes make it out to be. In his experience, each high school represents itself.

“If you go to the school, you’re basically a part of the gang,” he says.

“You could be one of those kids who stays indoors and plays chess with the nerds, or you could be with the cool kids outside smoking and hanging out on the block. On the one hand, you did have a choice. But on the other hand, it’s clear that no one really wants to be on the inside.”

Azez was kicked out of school before he became too deeply entrenched, he says, allowing him to take a step back and observe how “stupid” the lifestyle was. He also started to notice the impact on his family, after hiding his behaviour from them for a long time.

“We’re not coming from broken families, where we’re missing parents, or from foster homes, or we’re poor. We have a family. We have a nice house. We have cars,” he explains.

“All of a sudden, when you’re bringing outside drama that doesn’t really belong in that environment, it really crashes down.”

On a high school field, teenagers enrolled in Yo Bro Yo Girl practise kabaddi, an Indian sport. One young player, 18-year-old Jaskirat Dhaliwal, remarks that kids need money to join gangs.