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.
