Over the weekend, I watched a dateline episode called The Girl Who Looked Like Me, and it broke my heart.
The story was about a 27- year-old Black woman named Tamika Huston who went missing in May 2004 from Spartanburg, S.C., and was found to have been murdered by her boyfriend, her body eventually discovered discarded in the woods.
Actress Erika Alexander (Living Single, Cosby Show, and ETC) was asked to cover the case of Huston. She initially declined, but after seeing how little media attention missing black women were receiving, Alexander had a change of heart and began her audio series “Finding Tamika.”
When asked why she changed her mind, Alexander’s response was searing in its truth; “Because I know Black girls don’t matter.”
Her statement is true not because Black girls don’t matter, they absolutely do, but because they do not matter to our mainstream media.
Around the same time Huston went missing, the nation was captivated by the disappearance of Maura Murray, Natalie Holloway, and Laci Peterson.
Along with most of the country, I paid attention to their cases, eager to see a suspect brought to justice.
How is it possible I can right now recall the ins and outs of Holloway or Peterson’s disappearance, which took place in California and Aruba respectively, but have never heard of Tamika Huston in Spartanburg?
There have been breaks in the Asha Degree case; have you heard about it on the mainstream news?
Marissa Carmichael disappeared from an Exxon gas station in Greensboro January 14; do we know any updates on her? How many people know she is missing, or what she looks like?
Shanquella Robinson was murdered on video in Mexico, and no one has been arrested for the vicious attack that took her life.
Reporting on missing people can be a touchy subject, but if the media does not report on your missing loved one, then no one knows to look for them or what they should be looking for.
Police departments naturally inform families before the media when there is a development in a missing person’s case.
Sometimes this information gets out to the community, shared by family and friends, before the media can confirm it. The information may be factual, but the media cannot report it as true until it is officially confirmed.
I will always report on anyone that is missing in our community- even when the confirmations come in slow – because I cannot imagine the hopeless feeling of those left behind without answers.
Out of a desire to help, at one point in my life I thought I wanted to be a forensic pathologist- even taking several courses in line with that career. When I used to have time to read, one author I enjoyed was Patricia Cromwell.
Her lead character, Dr. Kay Scarpetta, is a forensic pathologist who often travels to the Body Farm in Tennessee, which is a real place, where donated bodies are taken to study decomposition in different settings and elements.
You might think dissections were my downfall, but no, it was maggots.
I really hate them, they are absolutely disgusting, and fill me with about the same amount of fear as a tick sighting.
So, obviously, forensic pathology was not the career for me, despite my handiness with a scalpel.
As a journalist, I have the platform to help in a different way; by keeping the public informed and on the lookout.
Huston was a victim of domestic violence, and as a survivor myself, I am grateful I escaped alive.
The smartest woman I have ever known is my Aunt Rebecca and she proves domestic violence is not an indictment on one’s intelligence or strength of character.
She served on Bank of America’s Board of Directors, struggled with unrelenting multiple sclerosis, and my uncle’s abuse. My aunt was the definition of strong and she kept every hurt, every painful word shouted at her, locked up inside.
As an adult, I wonder if she had talked about it or discussed the red flags she ignored in the beginning because she was in love; would I still have made my own dumb decision?
Too often we do not speak up when we should, allowing the same pattern and cycle of violence to continue. It is uncomfortable to talk about but I believe in normalizing the conversation- it is the only way the abuse stops.
Huston had recently freed herself from a toxic relationship at the time of her disappearance, only to end up dating her murderer.
Though her life was brief, it revealed a powerful message; Black women who go missing in America do not get the same publicity as their caucasian counterparts.
Huston’s Aunt Rebekah [Howard] says she hopes her niece’s lasting legacy is bringing awareness to the discrepancy in coverage. I vow to do my part in keeping Tamika Huston’s legacy alive by covering every missing person in our community and continuing to shine a light on domestic violence.