Dear Alex, my beloved husband

by Daisy Torres

Dear Alex, my beloved husband,

I hurt so much to tell you here I am at Camp Douglas. I am not who I used to be, I am a scared quiet woman who holds back what she has to say. You are probably thinking that that version of me is impossible but one thing I’ve learned since being here is that impossible always finds a way to become, well, possible. I know how we felt about everything going on with slavery but my mindset has changed and severely.

Alex, just because your parents have slaves doesn't mean you have to agree and Hell, neither do I. I wish I could speak to everyone else the way I speak to you, I wish I could be fearless again, but I can’t, just like I can’t go back to supporting you and your family on having slaves.

I have been talking to one of the guards, his name is Dan. He is 26, tall, blonde, witty, no one seems to get along with him but for some reason he attempts to get along with me. He has told me dozens of stories about the way children are auctioned off for the highest bid and the thought of you and your family at those auctions repulses me. I have witnessed the way children are torn apart from their mothers. I’ve heard the painful, almost deadly, screams as the children are ripped away. I’ve comforted mothers who feel as if their whole life was taken from them.

I cannot go back to being ignorant and pretending I didn't bare witness {to} all those things. I hope you understand, Alex, I really hope you do. I’ve learned so much here and aside from missing you, all is well.





*to be continued

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