Letter No. 9: "The Gilded Persona"

To Lindsey Brooks Smith

Lindsey, 

I am not sure that there’s ever been a love letter about a recent discussion. If not, let this be the first. I don’t need to explain how close our backs were to the proverbial wall in 2007 but this conversation, some 15 years later, was the first we have ever talked about in the context that we did a few days ago. 

You were kind as you usually are. 

In November of 2006, I made the trip from the Naval Station Consolidated Brig in Charleston, South Carolina to Houston, Texas. At that point, all I wanted to do was avoid media interviews and move on with my life, maybe go back to school or find an oil job. By December, you made the decision to move to Houston to be supportive of me. You chose Houston over playing professional soccer in Sweden, a sacrifice that I won’t forget.

Within five months of the day that I was released: we were two engaged 23 year olds. And then, shortly after, we learned that you were pregnant with Alexis. I wasn’t yet in school, I couldn’t find a job, and mentally and emotionally: I was worse than bad. You probably didn’t notice where I was with my mental health then; we were parents-to-be and we didn’t assess our minds the way that it’s done these days. We were focused on making ends meet for a newborn-to-be, much earlier than either of us expected. We did that by working odd jobs and training people in this rundown gym in Northwest Houston. Why do I bring all of this up? 

To cope, I medicated with all forms of risk: some of it was socially acceptable and some of it certainly was not. 

A few days ago, we discussed how poor my mental health was at that time and how I went about hiding it from the world for years. It took me well over a decade to come to terms with some of the things that I saw and experienced in Connecticut and South Carolina between 2005 and 2007. There were benefits to my ignorance and I would eventually pay down its brimming debt: I gained admission to a few small colleges and finished my education, I somehow got the job out of college in the midst of The Great Recession, and most importantly — I was there to be a father to Alexis. I haven’t missed one day of that job. It was important to my family and me that I wasn’t a statistic as a black father, something that I was incredibly sensitive to at the time. I already had three boxes checked: college failure, imprisoned, bankrupt. I wasn’t going to go for the fourth.

That night a few days back, we didn’t discuss the gifts. We talked about the price we paid for them.

Back then, I thought that I was tough. I presented well on the outside but within me was a rage, sadness, despair, and fear of loneliness that could have been the end of me without your presence. Today I see myself for what I’d been for so long: a gilded man, one with a showy persona that concealed a person of little worth. An antagonist would call me a fraud, a friend would help me reconcile the outside and the inside until it was once again — one. To cope, I medicated with all forms of risk: some of it was socially acceptable and some of it certainly was not. 

I am certain of one thing. Without you, I would have accomplished nothing. Alexis and you were my reasons to live. Now, fast forward 16 years: 

It seems we have lived a few lives in a short time. We are 38 year old parents of two daughters, one is entering high school.  The two of us had no economic fall back, scant support, dozens of active antagonists, and no guide. But we did it, despite numerous critical setbacks. We loved those two girls to heaven and back and we afforded them a wonderful life. We recently had a conversation about the cost of it. 

That night a few days back, we didn’t discuss the gifts. We talked about the price we paid for them. You said something that I will never forget,

If you needed me to go back to Charlotte or Indiana until you healed, I would have.

And I believe that. 

The problem with the idea of not knowing Alexis until she was two or three years old is that I am not sure that I would have never forgiven myself for letting you raise that little girl alone while I worked on fixing what was broken. You two were my motivation to get back up in the first place. 

So here we are, 15 and 16 years later. And over that time, I carried myself like the functionally broken person that I’ve been. But only those closest to me knew it until it became unbearable for them to join me on that ride. And so, I often wondered if my current reckoning is worth what we were able to accomplish for those girls. Is it worth finding a way forward if you leave yourself behind?

If our two girls love you, they love you hard.

Our girls, our girls, our girls. But what about us? It took an incredible amount of human energy to beat the steep odds that we did. To do so, we both worked 80 hour weeks for years straight. We threw ourselves into beating the economic curve and we did it for them. This only exacerbated things for me. I ran so hard and so fast that I didn’t have time to work on what was behind the facade of mine. And you worked so tirelessly that there was little room for large problems.

And so here I am with the response to your thoughtful words from a few nights back. Should I have asked you to go back home for support while I healed from the trauma of public ridicule, incarceration, and physical harm? Yes, I should have. A good man would have rolled the dice, set aside his pride, found deeply intrinsic motivation, and fixed himself. Many of the letters that I have written would not have been letters at all. And for that, I am sorry.

The tireless work that I pursued, the improbable success, and the upward mobility were not actually accomplishments, they were cop outs. They masked the problems. But I have a promise to you. I will work to make all of it worth it. If I can get through this time and come out as a better human for it, addressing the reckoning of my past and the impact that it’s had on my actions and relationships, it may end up the ultimate lesson. This may be the best chance I’ve got to fix what was broken.

While I was running at full speed, traveling tirelessly, and finding any soul to see beyond that gilded persona of mine: I searched for stability, intensity, intellect, patience, family and kindness. I wanted for a friend who would never turn on me, no matter the incentive. And I wanted someone to measure me, accounting for where I began, where I must go, and what I have sacrificed along the way. What the past weeks have taught me was that you were there all along. 

To the mother of Alexis Lee and Adriana Brooks and to the wife of me, thank you.

Lesson: Fix what’s broken before it breaks those around you.

I love you,

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