This letter was written almost 2 years ago, but took longer to compose. It was sent to Mariska, and until now, it has never been seen anywhere else. This is yet another look into what makes me, me. And the stories NEVER told. *Picture was taken between years of memory and loss. It was added later*
Dear Mariska Hargitay,
I am writing this letter to express how much I admire your support to the causes in today’s world, that touch so many lives. From your Philanthropies to charities and your ability to portray such a convincing character as Detective Olivia Benson on Law & Order: SVU, you always show such authority, conviction and truth to every facet that you tend to.
My name is Kyra. I am 23 and a Senior at Michigan State University, majoring in English with a Concentration in Creative Writing. I am also President of Sigma Alpha Iota International Music Fraternity’s Alpha Lambda Collegiate Chapter (here at MSU) and an actor/director/producer/set designer/playwright for Michigan State University’s Tunnel Of Oppression, which is very dear to me as well as the other positions that I hold.
I will be graduating this May and going into another area; without taking courses and that sometimes frightens me: the thought of leaving such a beautiful and helpful community. I guess what I’m trying to get at is, this university has been a great tool for me in my entire university career. It helped give me a chance to thrive academically and personally. It made resources possible, even when I didn't want them at the time.
My fright, it comes from suppressing anger and feelings, because I have always been that person that helps everyone and talks them through their problems, never discussing my own.
I am the youngest child of 17 girls and five boys (two sisters from my mom, whom I grew up with and the rest are half siblings), which means everyone is older. Therefore most of their children were older . . . When I was young, maybe around 4 or 5, I began getting molested by one of my older nephews, and at the time, the only thing I knew was that I was uncomfortable. They lived next door and somehow I knew I wouldn't get away from him. This happened for a while. A long while, and after time, I just put everything out of my mind and blocked it out.
I never told my family about those times, because I had tried blocking it so much. Many times I would forget what happened during those years, until something triggered it. When I was 12, the summer before entering high school, I went to visit my half siblings and their family at their house and I couldn't remember why I didn't want to be there, but my family went, and so did I.
I went to the basement to play board games and look at bikes with my younger nephews. And as everyone left, I felt at peace - Alone, without feeling suffocated. My older nephew came downstairs, quietly, and came up behind me and . . . It happened again, but this time I told. I told my mom and two sisters and they became upset. They approached my older half sister about her son. She said he was never there. She covered for him. His younger brother had to tell his mom he was there AND in the basement. Ever since, I couldn't trust them, nor ever wanted to be around that side of the family. And although I had told my family, it was buried and never again talked about. Maybe it was because I was embarrassed (mostly that), or that family secrets are just that, “family secrets.” Whatever the reason, I never mention it and always avoid conversations about those years. Or those people.
When I entered high school, I tried whatever it took to forget that summer and to move past my memories. I was fine too, until flashbacks started occurring. No one knew, because I was good at pretending to always be okay. The only way that I could sleep was if I had closed my bedroom door, locked it and pulled the covers over my head. Maybe that’s why I tend to still wear hooded sweatshirts . . . because I want to block out everything around me.
I became a calmer person, that was, after I began cutting to release stress and all the triggered memories. Even to this day, I wear long sleeves all the time (even in the summer), and just tell people, it’s my style. I've worked many jobs on campus; Student Campus Tour Guide, Police Traffic Worker, Night Receptionist, Security, Sports Camp Counselor, Academic Orientation Program Student Assistant and Cafe Worker (all supervisor positions too), and let me say - working in the dish room with long sleeved shirts, not very dry nor clean, once your shift is over, but you get used to it.
I cut most times, from that summer before high school, all the way up until this past semester. I've tried not doing it -- by running and writing (which seem to help). I had slowly subsided with my cutting until the summer of 2008, when I went to a party with a friend at an apartment near campus, and had a few drinks. I had never been to a college party since my first one, freshmen year, and it was summer, so I thought I should go out.
My friend and I were working at the cafeteria earlier in the day, where we were approached about the party. We were both Supervisors and decided to invite other Supervisors to attend. When we got there none of our other coworkers were there, but I didn't want to leave my friend alone, so I stayed. We had eaten lunch and dinner earlier, (at work during our break) so we decided to drink a beer or two. We then went to Buffalo Wild Wings, which was ten minutes away in our university downtown. After arriving there, I drank a sip from my friends cup and then - I don’t really remember much.
All I know is that we ended up at her apartment which was five minutes away and we walked into the living room. I was super dizzy, so I collapsed onto the sofa as she walked off. I thought everyone was leaving, so I drifted off. When I woke up, still groggy, I was naked and two guys were in the room (one standing near the door, pulling up his pants and the other was sitting next to me without any pants. My clothes were on the floor.) as if nothing happened.
I felt so STUPID. Like, why did this happen? And why won’t it end? I just wanted to end it, but I could remember what I had learned from SVU and other people, saying how you need to keep the evidence. I put my clothes back on and walked ten minutes to get to my Jeep, text my boss from work (because I was going to miss my shift) and let her know I was going to the hospital. When I got there, I couldn't tell them why. I just said, I was . . . And they knew, and off I went.
The most painful experience was that night, but I didn't remember it. The examination, I could remember and it took forever and I just wanted it to be over. For hours, they ran tests and did so much, but I couldn't handle it, so I drifted to another place - a safer place, where I couldn't feel. I found out later that I had been drugged. Reports had been made. Even to this day, I can’t fully go into those memories. But I can sometimes feel them.
It has been almost three years since that happened and I force those thoughts away, anyway I can. I’m a Night Receptionist Supervisor, which means, I patrol the residential halls, both inside and out, and respond to anything that happens. I took that job so I could help others, and prevent anything bad from happening to them. Even though what happened to me sucks, as long as I’m around I want to make sure nothing like that happens to someone else.
I have been through campus counseling, speaking with Detectives in my school's town, and even writing a screenplay (part of my Advance Screenwriting class) based around the event, but it has a better more justice filled ending. I am afraid to let that comfort zone go. The counseling didn't work for me, but it was there, FREE of charge to students. The Detectives never caught the two guys, but they are still there. My classes are almost over, so what now . . . Where do I go? How will I thrive as a person with those secrets, when my stability and overworking mentality is slowly coming to a close?
Your show feels that void. Even if those times the suspect is never convicted. I look at your character as a way out. A powerful woman (inside and outside the storylines). One who works for the people and promotes justice, based from the injustice surrounding her.
I have spoken so much about myself, but I wanted to let you know that I am a fan of your work, your show and your contributions to society. I admire your willingness to make sure people know what is going on in the world, and your working hard to create places for survivors to thrive. Although I have not fully healed from those moments, I still see a brighter vision for myself.
Thank You, Mariska, and God Bless you and your loved ones!
Much Love,
~K.R.C.
Michigan State University Graduate c/o 2011
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