Tryumph and Whizdom Williams Open Letters to St. John's University Against Jayson Williams Hall of Fame InductionDaughters of Former NBA player Jayson Williams speak out against St. John's University
By: Tryumph and Whizdom Williams To St. John's University, the uniformed, or possibly, fools, misusing money to honor Jayson Williams: Not that you know anything about me, but I am an actor at The Theatre School at DePaul University and have the true honor of performing in a production called Eurydice at the moment. I told my co-star jokingly that he set the bar too high for us girls with "daddy issues" by playing a father willing to build his daughter a room made of string. Theatre never felt more imaginative than in that moment because only in fiction, would a father even bother to lift a piece of string for the sake of his daughter! How fantastical! How unrealistic! How hysterical! How funny! Right? Then I realized no one else related like I did. All of a sudden, there I was again, at the bottom of a pit in my heart, meant to house a father's love - Alone. All of a sudden, I was shocked back to reality, but I couldn't stop wondering and remembering: Why was I cleaning up your vomit from the aftermath of ambien-fueled binge from eating sushi that was supposed to be a gift for me? Why did it happen before I even knew that pills, other than Flinstone vitamins, existed? Why is it that sushi is the only gift I ever remember receiving from my supposed-millionaire father? Why haven't you been there financially or emotionally? Why have I had to explain to my class, every year on the first day of school, since I was 12, that my father isn't the murderer they (or their parents) learn about after nosey Googling? Why have I always had to defend Jayson, someone who's ignored me all of my life, just to stay in the good graces of the school's gossip? Why can't I stop wondering if Alec Baldwin's children are starting to feel this pain (caveat - Alec Baldwin was sober and you were not when you shot and killed someone). I'd bet Alec has apologized to his family for the pain his actions caused - BUT YOU NEVER HAVE. Why was the last supposedly uplifting correspondence I had with you - a letter from you in jail jokingly warning me "not to kiss boys"? Why weren't you there as someone I could come to when I figured that I never wanted to kiss boys in the first place? Why is the only memory I have of you on any holiday is: me jumping on the bed chanting "Dad, it's Christmas! Wake up!", even then calling you dad felt foreign because of how little parenting you did, as you covered yourself in blankets and ignored me until I left the room with tears in my eyes? Why did I hear you unpause your TV special as soon as I closed the door? Why was my first attempt at journaling comic strips about the way you locked my sister in a trash chute and I had to fight you to free her? Why was this when I was 10? Why are you being honored and inducted into the hall of fame when I've always had to earn my survival, let alone my success, in spite of you? St. John's University - you should be ashamed of yourself. Tryumph Jaye Williams October 20, 2022 St. John's University, below, was my application essay submitted to you before you announced Jayson Williams to your Hall of Fame. Shame on you! Growing up, my nickname was "Petals" because I was obsessed with picking petals off of flowers. I was never asking if my crush would love me back, instead, I was begging nature to tell me if my father ever would. I have spent 12 years trying to rationalize the actions of NBA All-Star Jayson Williams, a man clinically diagnosed with anti-social personality disorder. My father's story is one that has been told by the media and countless bystanders in America. Healing from such a very public tragedy, that was far beyond my control, has been an inexplicably painful journey. Jayson is an alcoholic, who was emotionally and verbally abusive, a deadbeat father who lacks any sense of remorse. The most traumatizing memory is from about 8 years ago. He was heavily under the influence of alcohol and sleeping pills and he threatened to kill someone. Then he shut me in the garbage disposal room. Next, he forced my ten year old sister and me to clean up his vomit. I did not see him for years after that, which taught my first lesson about healing; acceptance. From the very first time I heard my teacher say "you get what you get and you don't get upset", I felt like I could already write a ten page paper, in MLA format, about the accuracy of that statement, I was eight. At such a young age, I learned the importance of accepting circumstances. I knew that I couldn't change who my father was or the way he viewed and treated me. I knew that the contrition and apologies were never coming. I convinced myself that the pain I was feeling was a step towards loving myself. That is when I first learned that it's very easy for the human mind to mistake the feeling of pain, as the progress of healing. During my "healing", I quickly became attached to the art of poetry. I believe that writing poetry is a physical manifestation of healing. A poet deeply feels an emotion, then must process it to the point in which she can sew words together to perfectly capture it. I knew that the second I processed my emotions and was able to sculpt a poem from them, I would be on the right track to healing. I am now 18 years old and working with Ford Models to publish my first poetry book. "To the weakest man I know, Jayson: My whole life I've been told that 'every dad wants to see himself in his child' I have nearly wrecked myself in regret because I could never do that for you, I tried. I dissected every part of myself in hopes of finding what you believed to be so unlovable. I picked apart every pattern in my fingertip Every ringlet on my head Every crevice in my palm Every tear stained eyelash I searched every part of my body until I learned to hate it all. The next time you saw me I was miserable, But I was okay with that because I knew you could finally see yourself in me, right? I win." Through my writing, I learned agony only holds power over the mind when we allow pain to mistake our minds for home. Releasing pain is the only way to escape it. Poetry has been my everlasting escape. By sharing my pain, I am unconsciously giving others permission to do the same. Every single person who has been traumatized by the neglect and abuse of a parent deserves to understand the power in their worth, their strength, and most importantly, the freedom in their voice. Each time I would lie in the grass with stripped flowers and not once did he love me, but I now can grow petals from my fingertips because I've learned to love myself. Whizdom J Williams October 20, 2022 Photos: https://www.prlog.org/ https://www.prlog.org/ https://www.prlog.org/ End
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