The first time I went to a concert in Washington, D.C., I jogged from the bus barefoot. I'd worn flip-flops and was running late, so I kicked them off to move faster. I often walk barefoot here—whether to a record store in Adams Morgan, along the Wharf after a show at the Anthem, or through the quiet streets of Takoma Park—sometimes by choice, sometimes to let my girlfriend rest her feet after a long day in heels. It's nice knowing I can do this without worrying about stepping on blood, human waste, or a heroin needle. This wasn't the case back home in Vancouver, Canada, especially in the Downtown Eastside. There, it wasn't uncommon to see a dead body on the way to or from a concert.

Since moving to D.C. in 2023 to study law, I've felt safe and at home. Sure, I've had strange subway encou

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