Dear Connecticut,
Do you remember me?
Nine years ago I was a senior at
Stamford High School on the brink of a life-altering event.
One night as I sat watching a movie, a group of anonymous boys called my cell phone and left me a series of voicemails. Their words, to this very day, represent the most horrific that I have ever heard uttered against another human being.
They started off by telling me that they were going to kill me "just because" I was black. They warned me that if they found me at home, they were going to unload a bullet into the back of my head. They cited other "******s" who had died before me, like Martin Luther King and Rosa Parks. They threatened to “tar and feather” my family.
I remember feeling shocked and scared— because I could think of not a single person, much less a group of them, who wanted to watch me die.
I was reluctant to report it, but the next day a teacher insisted I tell the school principal.
And then nothing was ever the same.
By some random stroke of misfortune one those involved was Gov. Dannel Malloy’s son — a boy I had never even laid eyes upon. Malloy was mayor of Stamford at the time and, for obvious reasons, the mixture of politics and race proved irresistible to journalists. Soon my face was plastered on the front page of every newspaper across Connecticut and everyone from the
NAACP, to Dr. Phil wanted in on the story.
Do you vaguely recall me now?
The connection meant that arrests would not immediately be made. The local police told me they needed to treat the case with special diligence, and they called in the FBI to help determine whether the four boys, three of whom were perfect strangers to me, had committed a “hate crime.”
The boy I believed had orchestrated the voicemails (the only one out of the group whom I had ever seen or spoken to) denied the allegations vehemently, perhaps rolling the dice that his chance political association would protect him in the end.
I stayed out of school for six weeks before formal charges were filed, and in that time the gossip escalated. It wasn’t limited to the students. Parents, teachers and you, the general public, felt inclined to state your opinions about me online.
I perused those words quietly, a stranger to the girl that the unsympathetic portion of you were depicting.
I was a liar.
I just wanted money.
I was ugly.
I was desperate for attention, another black girl taking advantage of a situation.
I was a lot of bad things all at once.
No one seemed to see me as a 17-year old girl going through a traumatic experience.
Those words destroyed me. I held my head high at school, but I went home and I cried every single night.
Without my consent or involvement, political forces took sides. The NAACP held press conferences outside my high school, which I relucantly attended. Malloy’s political enemies seized the opportunity to criticize him. Within my own family, lines were drawn. My father wanted to press charges. My mother just wanted to keep quiet so I could return to normal life.
And all I wanted was an apology. I wanted someone to be accountable, admit they had made a mistake and just say “Sorry.”
But, to this day, no one has.
Not even our governor, who at the time had “no comment,” other than that his son had been fully cooperative with the police.
And so what was my takeaway?
I hated Stamford. I hated Connecticut, but above all else, I hated myself. I hated that my name would come up in a Google search for “hate crime.”
I developed a severe eating disorder, to help me combat it. The skin against my bones for five years helped me to feel as though I had at least one aspect of my existence under control.
After college, I moved to New York City and disappeared into its masses. The city was much too fast-paced for anybody to stop and take notice of me, much too distracted by its own idiosyncrasies.
I felt lonely and, my god, it was magnificent.
For the first time, I was given an opportunity to grow up. To remember who I was, absent the inked impressions of a judgmental community.
She used to be a liberal & literally just became a conservative within the last couple years. So no one should be surprised about her having a hypocritical past.
She meant that there is no racism against black men.
