The locals stopped (as in permanently quit doing it) the "shoes for school" giveaway when they were physically attacked for having generic Converse hightops as opposed to pump-up Air Jordans (or whatever flavor it was that year that could get you killed when someone asked you for your shoes).
I don't know what the thug culture obsession with shoes is all about, but it's *expletive deleted* weird as hell.
Couple stories...
1) The last release of the Air Jordan line, the *expletive deleted* were rioting over the shoes. I made the mistake of going to the mall in Savannah the day of the release (not knowing about it) and they were litteraly lined up along the long mall second story corridor from the shoe store all the way to the end of it. Despite carrying my pistol I decided that we were leaving before the *expletive deleted* went down, and sure enough we found out later that there were a bunch of people arrested for starting a nice mini-riot.
2) One of my cousins was dating one of these thugs who was a basketball player at her school, then once he graduated his highest aspiration was to work at a nightclub. Of course she wound up getting pregnant and having a kid with the son of a bitch. Why do I call him a son of a bitch? Here's why...once she got pregnant he started treating her like *expletive deleted*. Yet when he got kicked out of his apartment her mother and father were kind enough to put him up in their house, despite their own troubles (going through bankruptcy, her father was stricken with bad cancer, the house was in foreclosure, etc) because he was the father of their granddaughter. He talked *expletive deleted* about them, how much he hated them and all that. I met him while I was up there for a brief visit but I held my tongue (not my monkeys, not my circus).
Then he finally leaves to go back to his hometown in NJ. The next time I went up for a visit, I ended up staying in the room he had occupied.
The *expletive deleted* piece of *expletive deleted* would not contribute a dime to care of the kid or to my aunt and uncle who housed and fed him, etc. Always claiming he didn't have enough money.
Yet his room was full, and I mean full, of brand new boxes of expensive shoes. We're talking like there had to be at least 40 pairs. There were also several high dollar suits, shirts, ties, plus street clothing. The room was literally packed with this stuff.
Again, I didn't really say much about it (not my monkeys, not my circus, but I wouldn't shed a tear if an angry patron at the nightclub shanked him)