Edit: Monday, February 16

Writing is supposed to make people talk. It’s supposed to spark debate. It’s supposed to challenge what we think and how we see the world. It’s supposed to tell stories we might never experience ourselves. That is what this piece has done.

Since I published this article, it’s made its way around the country, and it’s landed itself squarely back where it originated: my hometown. I have never received so much feedback—both extraordinarily supportive and extremely negative—on any piece of my writing.

Some people have voiced disappointment over what I’ve written. Some people are very, very angry at me. I’ve received messages from my teachers, former classmates, and complete strangers who don’t like what I have to say. That’s okay.

Some of the people I grew up with, whom I have known since I was born, have voiced their immense disapproval of — and even hatred for — me and the message of this piece. People feel attacked. People feel like I have inaccurately portrayed the experience of growing up in my community and in my school system.

This piece is about my experience and no one else’s. It was not and is not meant to be an attack on any person or group of people. I don’t claim to represent the experience of any of my other classmates. I don’t claim to represent the experience of my teachers, some of whom were great educators who inspired us and are still inspiring students. All in all, my hometown has some wonderful people in it whom I still care about very much. I would hope some of those people still care about me, even if they don’t agree with what I have to say. However, I know some of them no longer want anything to do with me; they’ve told me as much since I published this story. That makes me sad, but it doesn’t mean mine isn’t a story worth telling, and it doesn’t mean the things I talk about never happened.

As much as I wanted to take this story down and return to my normal life, one free of terrifying messages from strangers, I know that I can’t. Taking this story down doesn’t change the fact that it happened to me and that it happens to students around the country every day. I came here to stand up for something, and I’m going to keep doing it.

Not all the feedback I’ve received has been so profoundly negative. Some of it has been overwhelmingly supportive. I’ve heard from old friends, classmates whom I knew from a distance for years when we were in school together, and complete strangers who have told me that my story meant something important to them. They’ve told me their stories in return, and I wish you could hear them. They’re heartbreaking, hopeful, inspiring, and as unique as the people who tell them. If I can help them feel like they’re not alone, I have done my job.

Additionally, some people have brought to my attention that some of the statistics I cite aren’t correct. Thank you for letting me know. I have gone back through the article and linked to additional sources for the information and made corrections (denoted by an *) where necessary. Thank you for giving me an opportunity to make this article better.

I encourage every reader, especially those from my hometown, to download and review Covington High School’s Annual Performance Report, the source for many of the statistics I cite here.