Letter to My Teenage Self: You Will Be Saved by the Power of Your Words

Sixteen years after going to prison, Kwaneta Harris tells her 13-year-old self everything she wished she knew sooner.

Illustration by Julie Benbassat

Dear Kwaneta,

Growing up, attending an all-white Catholic school with two other Black girls, Brooke and Amy, makes you really hate having your name. But guess what? You won’t always. You, Ms. People Pleaser, will demand your name not be shortened or mispronounced. How can I be so sure? I’m you, at 52.

You don’t believe me? Of course not. You stopped believing everything and everyone at age 12. Now, you’re 13 and addicted to sexual self-destruction. You’re still suspicious? Allow me to convince you with our deepest secret: At age 12, you were kidnapped and gang-raped for three days.

This was 1984, and the police refused to search for a Black girl. So, the community did. Your family, friends, church and the neighborhood organized search teams and canvassed door to door, checking garbage dumpsters, abandoned houses and cars. Finally, they rescued you.

Mom was almost arrested after the Catholic hospital nurses implied that because of the assault and subsequent S…