Dear Editor
Violence has never been, and will never be, the remedy. It is not the balm for our wounds, nor the compass to guide us through the storms of injustice.
For too long, the soul of our society has been bruised by neglect and marred by cycles of brokenness. Recently, we witnessed the rise of the so-called Scrapes or Scrapeheads, a term as chaotic as the movement it represents. While many argued over its definition and who rightly bears the title, what became unmistakably clear was the glorification, promotion, and trivialization of a trend that, at its core, emboldens recklessness.
It is a dangerous alchemy where misguided energy meets unchecked influence. And in the tragic death of little Adrianna Younge, we saw the perfect storm, grief twisted into opportunity by those who seek only to stir the waters of unrest for their own selfish ends. What unfolded last night was not merely a protest, it was a glimpse into the abyss, a warning of how quickly a nation can teeter on the edge of chaos when justice is hijacked by corruption and disorder.
Violence is not justice. We cannot cry out for fairness in Adrianna’s name while silently endorsing criminality masked as protest. To do so is to pour oil on the very fire we claim to extinguish.
To those who have friends or family proudly calling themselves Scrapes or Scrapeheads, speak to them before it’s too late. Urge them to step away from the precipice, before they find themselves caught in the crossfire of a war they do not fully understand. Identity, when built on rebellion without cause, becomes a target rather than a shield.
Guyana is gasping for true leadership, not just authority, but vision. Leadership that gathers rather than scatters, that mends rather than breaks. We need voices that speak calm into chaos, that inspire unity and not division. For when leaders choose to gaslight instead of guide, trust fractures, morale wanes, and truth becomes a casualty.
Now is the time to lead with wisdom. To rise above the noise. To remember that the fire we light in anger may one day burn the very house we call home.
Yours truly,
Clayon F. Halley
