It would be beautiful to be able to walk up and down Peckham

"It would be beautiful to be able to walk up and down Peckham still, because I love it; it's where I grew up. But it just doesn't work. There are a lot of people who love you but there's jealousy too." In these words, Ashley Walters, actor, rapper, and storyteller of the British streets, speaks not only of a neighborhood but of the human condition. His words are tinged with nostalgia and sorrow—the ache of one who has risen from humble beginnings yet feels the distance between the man he was and the world that made him. Beneath the surface of this confession lies an ancient tension: the struggle between success and belonging, between love and envy, between the past that shaped us and the present that separates us from it.

Ashley Walters, born in Peckham, South London, rose from the trials of his youth to prominence first as part of the group So Solid Crew, and later as a celebrated actor. But his ascent came with a cost. He speaks as one who has looked back at his old streets with gratitude and longing, only to find that what once felt like home is now shadowed by mistrust. His love for Peckham remains, but the innocence of that love has been wounded by fame’s double edge—adoration on one side, jealousy on the other. In this, Walters gives voice to a truth as old as success itself: that those who climb too high must often watch their steps when they return to the ground that raised them.

This pain is not unique to Walters. It is the sorrow of every man who has outgrown his origins but never ceased to love them. The ancients knew this feeling well. Consider Socrates, who, though born in Athens and devoted to its people, was condemned by them for daring to question their certainties. He loved his city enough to die for it, yet his very brilliance provoked the jealousy and fear of those he sought to enlighten. So too does Ashley Walters’ lament echo across time: the more a person shines, the more they illuminate the darkness around them—and sometimes, the darkness resents the light.

There is something deeply human in the desire to return home, to walk the same streets and greet familiar faces, to feel that the past still embraces us. But fame, wealth, or even achievement can alter the balance of love. The eyes that once looked upon you with pride may now see a mirror of what they wish they had become. This is the burden of recognition—that in being seen, one also becomes a target of comparison, and comparison so easily breeds envy. Walters’ words remind us that while love can bind communities, jealousy can tear them apart. It is the invisible current beneath human relationships, subtle yet powerful, turning affection into rivalry.

Yet Walters does not speak with bitterness. There is tenderness in his tone, as one who still holds compassion for both the love and the envy that meet him in his old home. He knows that jealousy is born not from hatred but from pain—the pain of seeing another escape the chains one still bears. In that understanding lies the wisdom of forgiveness. To love where one comes from, even when one cannot safely return, is to practice the highest form of gratitude. It is to accept that growth creates distance, and that sometimes, to preserve love, one must stay apart.

This struggle—between belonging and separation—is the fate of all who rise. The artist, the leader, the visionary must learn to walk the narrow path between humility and self-preservation. They must remember their roots, yet not be bound by them; they must honor their people, yet not be destroyed by their expectations. For if a man dims his light to fit back into the shadows, he betrays the very purpose for which he was lifted up. Walters’ words, spoken softly, carry this fierce lesson: that love for one’s past must never come at the expense of one’s future.

Let this be the teaching passed down: do not despise the place you come from, but do not let it imprison you either. Love your beginnings, but understand that every beginning is meant to lead somewhere beyond itself. If envy meets your success, answer it not with pride, but with understanding. Walk with humility, but walk forward still. For as Ashley Walters teaches through the quiet grief of his words, the price of growth is often loneliness—but that loneliness, born of transformation, is the proof that you have indeed grown. And though you may no longer walk the same streets, the spirit of your old home will walk with you, unseen, forever.