Lies We Tell ✔

The Forty-second Dance

Dear Amelia Xu,

I know you probably hate me, but please don't tear up this letter. Not yet, at least. Please read what I have to say first.

I was the one who started everything by tearing off those international students' nameplates back in the beginning of the year. But trust me when I say that that was the one and only hate crime I ever committed. Mandy took over afterward, and I'm sorry that my actions inspired her. Trust me when I say I tried to stop her when I found out. I really did try.

But even Mandy couldn't have managed to do everything. I'm writing to warn you, because I think the number of people involved in these hate crimes is greater than any of us imagined. The people who may have been helping her or acting independent of her are out there, and there's a chance they'll never be caught. So please, I urge you and everyone else at Brookings to be careful.

The reason I turned myself in is because Mandy found out my deepest, darkest secret, and threatened to tell it to everyone—including my own parents—if I didn't take the blame for everything. But I'm at a place now where I'm trying to get more comfortable with sharing my whole person with everyone, so here it is: I'm lesbian. Always have been. Always known, and hidden it.

My parents are super Christian, and they'll probably disown me when they find out. But I'm tired of hiding who I am. I don't want to be fake. I don't want to lash out at other people because I'm unhappy with my own life and my own decisions. So I'm making a change. You might not even care, but I'm trying to become a better person. The first step I'm taking is joining my community college's Gay Straight Alliance.

If you aren't able to forget—or even forgive—my horrible and racist actions, I completely understand. You have my number and Facebook. Reach out if you'd like. I'll do my best to be a real friend this time.

P.S. I'm glad Chris won the election. He'll do great things for Brookings.

Take care,

Jennifer

*****

A few days passed, with no news of any kind of sentencing for Mandy and Robert. I was disappointed, but only a little. Hadn't really expected much more from our law enforcement. The police were sorting out which crimes the two had and hadn't committed—a daunting task, sifting through the slew of hate crimes that had rocked Brookings to its core.

"You two will probably be called in to testify at some point," Patrick warned Sidika and me one morning at breakfast. He didn't notice the oatmeal dripping off the spoon into his lap. "Are you ready?"

I steeled my resolve and nodded. Sidika grimaced, and nodded a second later. Whether it took days or weeks to sort through the madness, we'd be ready to see Mandy and Robert behind bars. To make Brookings safer, just a little bit.

The Saturday after Dancerush, a candlelight vigil was held in Olivia's honor.

I started the event on Facebook. Invited some of her friends. People from our hall. The Dance Sensasians. Expected maybe twenty people to turn out, tops.

Instead, hundreds crowded the Quad, huddling around the candles Chris, Nigel, and I had placed in the center of campus. Members of the Chinese Student Association had brought along their friends, and since all Asians knew each other, that meant by default that all the Asian organizations were present.

Nigel brought along a bunch of Black Student Union members, all of them wearing their #BlackLivesMatter T-shirts. One member carried a sign that read #AllLivesMatter.