The following was posted on Keisha Higgins-Bell’s Facebook account on June 16, 2018.
So, hey.If you’re reading this right now, you probably know who I am. If you don’t, well, I don’t know how you got ahold of this account, considering it’s private, but fine. Maybe you’re one of those moms in church (praise the Lord), maybe you're one of those underclassmen I say hi to, sometimes, but it's cool. Not that all has happened has been cool, of course, but it's okay for you to be reading this. Going through this, every word and every line, wondering why this girl thinks she has the temerity to go through and post this. Why she has the right to do so, when so many others remain stuck in limbo, fates uncertain and locations unfound.
I get that, I really do. That maybe, I should stay quiet, keep my mouth shut like a trap and never say anything ever again. I've been told that ever since the fifth grade, so don’t feel like you’re alone there. Part of me does want that. It’d be easier, certainly. To weep, to cry, to let everything stand still as if the world will stop around me. As Keisha Higgins-Bell, one of the few members of the George Hunter Batch of 2018 not currently missing, that makes sense.
As Keisha Higgins-Bell, a friend, a classmate, and as one person charitably described me, “a nosy bitch who can’t keep her mouth shut”, I think that I have the right to say something. I think that I have the need to say something, now, before my friends and my classmates’ stories are left to scatter to the wind, tragedy blanketing out what they made happen, rather than what happened to them.
I’m sure all of you have seen the Lorentech Press Conference. At least, read about it, saw a headline about it, maybe even a 10-second snap about it. Rich white people be kind of crazy, yes, but that’s something we all knew before this, right?
Anyways, despite how disgusting the remarks made by Mr. Lorenzen were yesterday, he does bring to light one harsh truth: that something has happened to all of these kids, and it certainly isn’t something good. Perhaps it is SOTF, perhaps it isn’t, but in any case, we can’t let what is happening, or has happened to them, overshadow who they are.
Classmates. Teammates. Friends. Lovers. Siblings.
They aren’t just martyrs and victims, they’re people, and all of you should know that as well as the palm of your hand. Maybe you only know them from your clubs, or a wave in the hallway, or a passing glance in the party. Maybe they’re just acquaintances, nothing more. But for some of you, myself included, they’re your loved ones. Even your children, your babies, your grandkids, your anything, really. All that matters is you know who they are, or at least some piece of their identity, and you know that over whatever has happened, the highest highs and the lowest lows.
So, please, help me bring their stories out to light. Everything from the first time that they walked, rode a bike, or got a prize at a competition. Anything from their panicked preparations at prom, to their very first day of high school. It can be big, it can be small, really, because what matters is that we have something to hold on to, and something for the world to see that Chattanooga stands wounded, yes, but that Chattanooga will stand strong, in the face of everything. That we, as a community, can make it.
I know this is a lot to ask, but I only ask it because I believe that no matter what happens, we must be able to hold onto some of the good. Hold onto it like grains of sand slipping through our fingertips, hands clenched tightly to all we have. I'm not asking for sentimentalism. I'm not asking for blind mourning before any constructive efforts to actually find everyone and bring them home where they belong- just for us to gather together, and know that from our past, we can hopefully find a way forward for our future.
I don't want to be in this situation any more than you have, and to be honest, I was pretty stupid to end up safe here. Unlike a lot of the other people here, I wasn't sick, I didn't decide to go to DC out of some ideological stand or desire for independence. I was grounded. I was stuck, right here, left to fume and think about the fact that I screwed up, that my right to go on the grand senior trip had been ripped away from me. Instead of it serving as a punishment, I was someone spared, left to pick up the pieces of what everyone else has left behind. Now, I'm not gonna even say I succeeded in that, but with your help, I can at least try to make a bad situation just a little bit brighter, just a little bit better.
Maya Angelou once said that the greatest pain one can hold is that of an untold story. Maybe these stories aren't of ourselves, but if they're the ones that we love, then I believe it is only through sharing them with the entire world that we can ever be able to let go the baggage, and put our best foot forward. This is just one voice speaking out, lost in a sea of faceless masses, but please, if you'd like to help me with this project, contact me here, or my Instagram, or at my phone number (which if you're close enough to me to know, you know already).
Thank you.
- Keisha Higgins-Bell, GH Hunting Hen Forever
Attached at the bottom of the post are a number of photos taken from the yearbook featuring clubs and Keisha is a part of, including the volleyball team, the cheer squad, and the school newspaper.
to this post]
/ 
- 
/ 
- 
- 
- 
- 
- 
