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To Whom it May Concern,
My name is Stephen A Hill Jr., and I have constructed this letter as an appeal to my current status for the 2011/2012 school year. As unfortunate as it is, these past semesters have been the most difficult times in my life, culminating in what could only be described as a short mental break earlier in the semester. I must admit, actually writing this letters is possibly the hardest part. Aside from having to focus on and face the problems weighing me down, this letter in many ways is an admission of weakness, a recognition that I lack the strength to barrel through these adversities unscathed, head held high, and triumphant. Sadly, that is not the case. Despite the most passionate cries of my own ego, I dare say I have been shaken by my situation, I have fallen, and I am in need of help. More specifically I am in need of opportunity, an opportunity to pull myself together and redeem myself here at Howard University.
With that said, I feel it necessary to explain my situation. As of November first, my world for all intents and purposes had fallen apart. It is typically easiest to explain things chronologically, beginning with my father. Since my senior year of high school my father had been locked in a very emotionally and financially draining legal battle with the Detroit Public School system concerning money that was laundered from the department he was in charge of. Unfortunately, my father lost that case, and on September 19th, was sentenced to five years in federal prison. I got word that night and needless to say I didn’t take it well. However I had little time to grieve over the bad news because hours before, I’d received a phone call that Troy Davis, (a young man on death row in Georgia) had been denied clemency, and was set to be executed in two days. I currently serve as the Vice-President for the Howard University NAACP, and have been very involved with the organization on a national level for years so when word came down that the execution was still on, I had to put my personal issues aside and take action.
The next two days, were spent planning and organizing the rally for Troy Davis along with the Howard University Student Association. Along with seven close friends and colleagues, I lead the march and rally for Troy Davis over the course of nine hours, an emotional roller coaster to say the least. When word reached us that he had been granted a reprieve from the United States Supreme court of up to three days, we disbanded, thinking if nothing else, we’d bought him some time. Over the course of the day just about all of our phones had died. So when we made it to campus, turned on our televisions, plugged in our phones and reconnect to the world, I had just enough time to send my mother a message about how successful we were in helping save a life, before the condolences for our efforts and news came flooding in that Troy Davis’s case wasn’t overturned. He was executed before any of us had even reached the metro. I was crushed. All of our efforts, for nothing, we were so close but even after the sleepless nights, the manifesto we drafted to the white house, the protest, the awareness, the arrest, the police stand offs, we weren’t enough.
I spent the next month grappling with my dad’s situation, and slowly, painfully, getting past the Troy Das verdict, and the realization of my own powerlessness in both. I spent my days slipping in and out of depression, managing to pull myself together long enough to persuade the general population that everything was ok. I’ve always had trouble admitting that anything was ever wrong, that any event had ever actually affected me. In my family and social circles I am the rock, the person everyone looks to for stability, comfort, and confidence that everything would be ok. As a result, I didn’t know how to respond when I’d been faced with two back-to-back situations that truly had an impact on me. I pushed my emotional responses to the back of my mind and resumed my self appointed role. In hind sight, my worst mistake was not truly dealing with the issues, not seeking help, things could have gone much differently and I could have been psychologically and emotionally prepared for the events that would come. A factor that would have been immensely helpful because unfortunately my troubles had only begun.
On October 22nd I flew home to see my father and spend what would be my last days with him for the next few years. I can only describe the feeling over that weekend as a very unnerving numbness. I knew the inevitable, I knew that in a matter of days I would be saying goodbye to my dad, and quite possibly any semblance of normality that I’d grown so fond and accustomed to. I knew everything that would change, the stress it would put on my family not having him there, the stress it would put on him knowing that he couldn’t be there. Oddly I feel a certain sense of pride and reassurance in the knowledge that I share my fear of powerlessness in situations concerning the well being of my loved ones with my father. Nevertheless I came home, we had our talks of the future, and we packed. The following Wednesday, October 25th, along with my mother I dropped my father of at the Federal Correctional Institution in Morgantown, Virginia. I took one of the only two photographs I have with my father that day. I said my goodbye’s and managed to hold myself together long enough to drive to D.C. with my mother.
I arrived back on campus that night with every expectation of falling apart the minute my mother left for her hotel. Hopefully that moment would be enough, take a few moments, purge, and get back to the tasks at hand. Unfortunately not ten feet from my door I received a message “candle light vigil for fallen bison at 7”. I immediately turned and headed for the yard. I was falling apart internally, my head was flooded with thoughts and all of them problems, but I had to go. I kept telling myself, “You’re a student leader, and you’ll have time to grieve once you make sure the students are ok. People need you to be strong right now. Pull it together”. I made it to the flagpole just as the vigil began and stayed until the very end. I can’t help but wish my presence was more influential, but I was in no position to truly help anyone past extending a shoulder to cry on. The next day, I could barely make it out of bed, I was a zombie, physically present but mentally I was a thousand miles away. A situation only made worse by the news that day would bring.
I spent the evening of Thursday, October 26th, on the phone with my mother. She’d made it safely back to our home in Detroit, only to receive word that she’d lost her job. As I tried my best to calm her down, internally I was in panic mode. Without her income, what little assets my family would have retained after my father detention would be gone in a matter of months. Which brought about a series of problems. If my mother had no job, that means we would lose our house, on top of the fact that I now needed to find a creative way to satisfy my balance for the semester, while keeping up in class, and managing my slowly crumbling family dynamic. I was barely on my feet, and it seemed like life was piling more and more adversity on top of me, and apparently, it had no intention of stopping. Friday, October 26th, finally came and I sought some reprieve from my week of bad news and personal tragedy when I received a phone call .At this point I pretty much wanted to throw my phone out of the window, it had brought me nothing but hardship this past week, but begrudgingly I answered. One of my close friends said he needed to speak to me about a very urgent situation and asked when I could meet with him. I met him later that evening only to find him in the midst of a breakdown. It was nerve racking. to come across someone you respect so highly, someone who was your coach and mentor, a man you consider a brother, one of the few individuals that you seek out for strength when you are at your weakest, only to find him broken under the weight of his on struggle. My friend managed to pull himself together and explain the reasoning for his emotional state, he’s been diagnosed with a terminal form of cancer and was headed into surgery in December, a surgery that he very well might not come back from. I froze, “this cant be real” I kept repeating to myself. In three days I’d essentially lost my father, my financial backing, my home, and potentially one of best friends.
I’m not sure how I felt at the moment of realization, I just know that I spent the next month chasing every avenue I could come up with to at least keep myself in school, all the while watching my mental health slowly deteriorate. I wasn’t sleeping, I’d lost all appetite, and my focus was nonexistent. As fast as I was falling apart, so were my resources. It is my sincere hope that my circumstances are taken into consideration, and more so that this appeal be granted, giving me a chance to bring about a change in the current streak of unfortunate and untimely events that have recently befallen me. I have struggled with the fact that many of the issues that have so greatly impacted me, are out of my controlled, and quite honestly, the fact that they could be my downfall scares me, this appeal is not only a second chance, but an opportunity to gain regain control of my life. I truly appreciate the opportunity to seek an appeal, and thank you for your time in reviewing my situation.
Sincerely,
Stephen Hill
i met this gypsy and she hipped me to some fly game
