They Won't Publish Me (written in 2019)
I wrote this as a letter to the editor about two months ago knowing that it would never be published. I did send it in, though. Almost for the sake of writing this introduction to say I wasn't published. Made for a decent title, too. I thought maybe they didn't publish due to the controversy, or maybe I'm boring, add to that this is a lot longer than I intended it to be. But, whatever:
My name is Shelby Dury. In 12 days, I will be 28 years old. I attended Sturgis Public Schools throughout my entire education, save my senior year. I would have graduated from SHS in 2009. I was a straight A student. I was a 2 sport athlete and sang in the choir. I was an athletic trainer. I was in student government, National Honor Society, Spanish National Honor Society, Key Club, and Business Professionals of America. I was in a basement band with my friend Annie who played guitar, I spent most of my free time with my sweet baby brother who was just a toddler. I regularly volunteered in the community at kid’s summer camps, nursing homes, fundraisers, and blood drives. I was the Bleacher Creature (pep club) captain (head up by none other than the perp’s mother). I planned our lip syncs and built our floats every year for homecoming. I had favorite teachers and good friends. Fast forward to now: I am living in Kalamazoo, MI and I am an engineer working in the neurosurgical field. I own and operate a small business that supports non-profits dedicated to lifting the voices of the marginalized in Kalamazoo. I am an anti-racist, an equity activist, and I am using my privilage as a white woman (almost straight 😂…bisexual) to try and have my voice heard to encourage others to listen to the voices of the truly marginalized. Thanks, in part, to the Sturgis Public Schools education I received.
My roots in Sturgis run deep. My mother, father, step father, step mother, grandparents, and much of my extended family are all graduates of Sturgis High School and are still heavily involved in the community in one way or another. Both of my grandparents owned well-respected, humble businesses in town. One set owned a beauty salon/barber shop duo and the other set ran a propane and petroleum distribution company on Prospect (still ran by my family ♥️). Despite my roots, when I was 16 (almost 17), I made the decision to leave Sturgis Public Schools and the city as a whole.
Today I'm writing because I think ignorance is not bliss. I'm writing because I hope someone will read my story and help to better our community for those that come up after us. And truthfully, I think people will just find it interesting. Or they're nosey and want to see how bad I'm gonna wreck this. I realize my story is controversial. I also realize my story is not unique. And then there is always the possibility that I will receive backlash from the potential of this being published. But that would never even come close to outweighing the grief of what I have endured from just living this out some 12 years ago. So, bring it on.
I was just about to turn 17 and wrapping up my Junior year of high school at SHS. It was a Sunday evening and I was sitting on the public access dock at Lake Templene. I was likely awaiting a text from some random kid I was "dating" at the time. I had a Motorola RAZR cell phone (duh). And instead of a juvenile text from what's-his-face, I opened it up and I had 10 or 12 text messages from some friends at school. And they continued to roll in, one after the other, as the night progressed. There was a common theme among all of them. All these messages allowed me the displeasure of learning that a photo of myself that was inherently risqué (nude, people) had been distributed and was spreading wildly throughout my entire school district and all of the surrounding ones. I can't exactly walk you through my emotions at that exact moment in time. I only remember calling McLaine expressing, to the best of my ability, through tears and screams that I was fearful of returning to school the next day. This was my first battle with suicidal ideation.
For so many years, I placed the blame of that photo being leaked on myself. Even though my reasoning skills were still developing, I definitely knew better. I am sure that when I first pressed send, I felt a sense of guilt. I grew up in church, anyway. But back then, the promise of an 18 year old senior guy saying he would keep this to himself...that was enough to ease my distress. The promise that he would delete it soon after was enough for me to feel like I wasn't risking much. But the trust was broken and we know now that what becomes viral can never be undone.
LISTEN. I am not a saint and I never have been and I likely never will be. I had made plenty of mistakes up until that point, I've had lapses in good judgment all my life. I'm not here to proclaim my innocence to the lot of you.
But what I DO know is in that moment, the shame and vulnerability I felt and the shame and vulnerability I have continued to feel for years following was something I'm still not even able to navigate confidently. It slowly transformed into insecurity and doubt. There was no bouncing back, only a scary evolution of these gut wrenching thoughts and feelings. Even after the person who sent it out had the guts to apologize to my face about 3.5 years ago, I still struggled with self-loathing and deep insecurity. I was not in a healthy place when I received the apology. And it didn’t improve after the apology. It only solidified my belief that privilege will hold the power over the victim every time. Reconnecting with him was a horrible decision. But I kept seeing him everywhere I went. Because out of ALL the places and cities and out of all of the homes his family owns—he chose to live and work and become a doctor in the city I moved to in order to escape the hell that was Sturgis.
Now… when I’m out picking up takeout from Shakespeare’s or at One Well with my coworkers, I see him enjoying a wonderful life and he completely ignores me and my experience and has done nothing to make reparations or advocate for me. He ignores that I exist and maintains the facade of a social justice advocate while ignoring his own victim. My family once saw his parents at 600 Kitchen. We were celebrating the completion of my Master of Science. My parents knew his parents. They were on a first name basis and once his mom gave my dad a whole ton of Notre Dame gear because she knew they were fans and volunteered at the stadium.
I remember asking my mom who his mother was at a basketball game when I was in the 6th grade because his mom was making fun of a child’s shoes because they were battered and old and worn…with a designer bag on her hip.
2.5 years before the photo leaked (my freshmen year of high school), I had “dated” this man that leaked the photo of me and during that month we “dated” I practically spent all of my time at their mansion on Klinger Lake, nursing him back to health (making out with him) and pushing him around in his wheelchair after a football injury. His mom picked me up and dropped me off from school. Took me shopping. Took me to Chicago. I was 14. I found out later that there was a bet between his friend and himself to see which one could land McLaine’s freshmen younger sister first.
My family drove 15 year old vehicles and I went with him to test drive a BMW and a Mitsubishi Galant and he still had his permit. I never understood how he could date me. I was so dumbstruck by his popularity and status. I remember feeling like I’d won the lottery. His mom told (subtly shamed) my dad when they were at a football game. She let him know that she planned on buying me lots of things now that I was seeing Sean.
We saw his parents in that restaurant in Kalamazoo in 2018 and they completely ignored all of us. As if my family was somehow responsible for this. All 4 of my parents still work in Sturgis. There have been so many opportunities to make amends. Their son and his best friend (who is still his current best friend) leaked the photo to their entire baseball team. And from there who knows. They have to know. And they ignore it.
While this was going on (but I was still unaware) my high school gymnastics team was preparing for regionals (around March-ish 2008). My coach invited the baseball team to sit in the stands and heckle us so that we could be prepared for noise distraction. First of all, why. Toddlers would have been better. It was the most objectifying and humiliating thing.
They all had pictures of my tits on their phones and were responsible for it leaking to countless minors and they proceeded to heckle me and kept repeating “drink some dr. depper”. Which I later found out was a joke the guy responsible came up with. Because all of his friends found out that he would drive me to the Walmart parking lot and pretend to care about me before taking me to a cheap hotel to fuck. His friends found out and he was embarrassed because he spent a lot of time degrading me since we broke up in 2005. They made fun of him for it. In fact, to catch him in the act, they put a phone in there so they could listen in and record us. So, he told all of them that my “pussy smelled”. The joke was that Dr. Pepper causes this in women. He also mentioned that he hated women who didn’t keep it bare and wanted me to make sure mine was. He said that when we dated my freshmen year, it was the one thing he couldn’t stand. I was 14.
These 2 guys are still best friends. I see them together often. And I recently learned that his best friend is employed by the same company I am employed with. Works in the same building as my husband. And he also lived in the same apartment complex as my husband and I did.
I struggled for 10 years with every eating disorder in the world. I hated my body. I have been on every anti-depressant. And now I live in the same city and run in the same circles as the person that took my life, fucked it up, and moved on to become a fake woke social media justice warrior while I have to dodge him at bars and have panic attacks in the bathroom stalls at One Well.
I thought the apology from him would cure all. I said I forgave him and we hung out a few times as friends (in this elaborate woodsy barn house, and he allowed me to hang out with him and his cousin at The In-Between one night). I couldn’t help but wonder if he was hiding our “repaired friendship” from the people in his life. We had consensual sex and I hate it so much. That I thought he was good because he truly felt bad and actually cared that I had suffered. But, after having sex with me and telling me he honestly hasn’t been turned on or wanted sex in forever and he thought he was gay….he decided to say (out of nowhere) “I ruined my life because I lost Kayla over that. She was the love of my life.” Ok.
The last time he ever looked at me, I started my period while having sex with him and, being the feminist that he is, he kicked me out of his house (with an uber ride home to my apartment) and shortly after I decided to ask him the question I didn’t want to know the answer to, “Would you ever be able to tell your family or _____ (his best friend) that you sometimes hang out with me and share your details of your divorce and actually call me a friend? Could you tell them that we have hung out as more than friends?”
And he got super quiet and looked down at his hands forever and didn’t look up and he said “no”. Nothing more. And so I left. The apology was an attempt to end his own shame. He wasn’t willing to accept all the consequences. So I left to continue this journey on my own.
After all that time…I realized that it will forever be on the victim to grapple with their future, their mental illness, their body dysmorphia, their self-worth, their life beyond being a minor and having her ability to consent to her naked body being shared with thousands of people… ripped from her with no repercussions or remorse no reparations. No responsibility. No accountability. And now I have to wonder if I’ll see him everywhere I go. And I’m too proud to give up my life here that I love so much. But I see that his life is beautiful and perfect and unhindered. And everything worked out great for him. I fought so hard to be here. He skated in.
I tried to help him process his recent divorce (empathetic enneagram 2, here) because I had just gotten divorced when we reconnected in 2016. For 2.5 years, I was a victim of domestic abuse until I found the nerve to leave that marriage.
And I moved home. To Kalamazoo. Within 6 months, I saw him at a bar and I approached him because the liquor had me feeling brave enough to confront him.
But I first asked him how he was and he said he had just filed for divorce and I empathized and couldn’t find the nerve to be mean (when have I ever? Lol). He was lonely, I was familiar and I got sucked in by the fancy houses…the fake apology, the wild (hate) sex.
Even after I realized that I could move on and still do great things despite me being weakened by this one short moment of my adolescence, I still questioned my right to be confident in who I am. And the proof of that is right here. I wouldn't be writing this if I had already sorted through this appropriately.
So here we are in this pre-Snapchat, pre-iPhone, pre- BIG social media era (2008). We were navigating a new messy digital realm that was growing bigger and becoming more unknown by the second. Nobody had caught up with the growth yet. Not our parents and definitely not our schools. Technology was moving so quickly and then we put it into the hands of teenagers (?!) and we were immediately presented with these new dilemmas and majorly grey areas surrounding the monitoring of use and what was appropriate and what wasn't. Heck, we are still navigating this grey messy space.
But here is what I know was not a grey area in 2008 and is not a grey area now. According to federal law, here's what I know was and is BLACK and WHITE. In 1996 the Child Pornography Prevention Act was a federal LAW. This restricted child pornography on the internet including virtual child pornography.
I was 16 years old. And if anyone wants to fact check that information, the photo was taken in March of 2008. Gymnastics season had come to a close. Track season was beginning. It was distributed just before my 17th birthday by an 18 year old to hundreds and hundreds, hell, maybe even thousands of people (mostly minors).
To add insult to injury, my family members received the photo. My older brother's and my older sister's friends. Shame. Shame shame shame shame. I lost friends. I lost sleep. I lost strength. I had been reduced to a person that I didn't even know. I had done stupid things and made mistakes and dealt with people thinking of less of me before--but this was next level.
I grew up in a split family. My parents split custody of my sister and I. We spent most of our time with our mom and her amazing husband. When my dad found out what happened, I couldn’t even go to his house. He finally allowed me to resume my visits but ended up screaming that I had pissed on the family name and he threw my things out on the lawn and I had to call my mom to pick me up.
In order to move away from Sturgis, I had to move in with my dad’s family in the Kalamazoo area. Before my senior year was over, I was no longer safe in his home and was living with a trusted friend and her family to finish my senior year.
I tried to go to sleep that Sunday night before the Monday I returned to school after learning that everyone knew what I looked like naked. I was too ashamed to tell my dad why I didn't want dinner. Why I didn't talk the whole ride into school and why I opted to sit in the back seat so I could lay down and nap (cry) on our commute to Sturgis.
But, I walked into school Monday morning. I was numb. I made eye contact with no one. I walked up the sidewalk to the double doors. My face was bare. Blotchy. Tear after tear after tear rolled out of both of my eyes. I wasn't ready, but I knew what I had to do. I didn't go to my locker and grab my books and do the usual dance of trying to stuff my backpack into my locker filled with papers, hoodies, and dirty gym clothes and then run off to class. I went straight to the guidance office. I sat with the counselor with my head in my hands and bore everything. I told a detailed account of what I knew to be true. We called my mom together. And 20 minutes later she was there. I didn't go back to school to finish my junior year as I had been planning to do less than 10 hours before that conversation.
I could trace it all back to the beginning. I knew when the photo went into the universe and into the hands of an ill-equipped boy. Unfortunately, on that morning in May (and even right now) I have no idea how far the reach was. All I knew for sure was that I couldn't show my face in that school. I was not who I was anymore. I was not a straight A student, I was not the goof ball who always made you smile, I was not even the girl who always had the wrong boyfriend, got caught up in gossip, or crushed on too many guys, or who would sing and dance any chance she got, who would be there for anyone at anytime... I was the girl in the photo. And everyone had something to say about it. Ugly. Slut. Whore. Fake. And even now, I can walk into Wings Etc. for a beer and conversation with my parents...and I look around... and my own insecurity, plus the inevitable twisted perception of who I might be to these former classmates and peers of mine, starts to take root in my soul and I immediately feel trapped in this reduced version of myself. I'm not the person I've fought hard and worked harder to become. I'm just her. That 16 year old girl in the photo.
So, if there were laws in place and proof of that law being broken--what happened here??
Here's what happened. I came forward with my proof to the school as soon as I learned what happened (thank you AJ Wentzel for your radical honesty and for always sticking up for me). I told them the name of the student and my mom showed her the phone records. I didn’t have SMS messaging on my phone. But for some reason I DID have MMS messaging. So you could see the dates and times it had been sent out to him. And later online messages of him asking me to delete the ones I had of him and he would do the same (a conversation he initiated and I, of course, had already deleted his—I’m not a fan of D.P.’s.) And I guess the one thing I applaud myself for here is that I took responsibility. I took the forefront of the blame. I owned up. Because I truly believed this was all my fault. It started with me and if it weren't for me, this would not have happened. I can’t tell you how many times I heard, “If you didn’t want the world to see it, you shouldn’t have sent it.” So, I’ll use that logic here. Sean Clark & Shawn Meyers, if you didn’t want the world to know that you’re both menaces to the feminist movement—you should have repaired this years ago.
What solidified my belief that I was a screwed up kid who needed to be punished was the fact that the school district thought it was best to send me away to a center for troubled youth an hour away from my home for an entire week while this guy (who was about to graduate), finished up his classes without me there and to “protect me”. I deserved this. I had to go spend time with kids who were delinquents and I slept in a bed in a room with concrete walls and a padlocked door. It was simple, if I went there, my absence from classes would not be counted against me and I could avoid having to repeat my junior year. I was a straight A student on track to becoming an engineer, an entrepreneur, and a philanthropist, and an advocate! (Yes yes. The subtle brag). So, the best thing to do was remove me from my home, my parents, my security—to accommodate him.
I'm not sure how it all made sense to anyone that this was the correct way of handling this situation. I guess it all happened so quickly. And, like I said, this type of offense was brand new. And somehow I was not a victim here. I was the offender. And, given the response I received from almost all of my peers and their families--they felt that way, too.
So, I returned to school after everyone else had taken their exams and took my exams in empty rooms with teachers who graciously allowed me to take them once all other classes had ended. (Thank you, Mr. & Mrs. Green and Doc Lioy for your advocacy and support.) A few weeks later, a decidedly packed up my things and transferred schools.
Quick synopsis of my life since then: A year later I graduated 2nd in my class at a nearby high school in the Kalamazoo area. That same year I was crowned homecoming queen. Then I was given a full ride to Glen Oaks Community College based on merit and extra-curriculars and an interview. After that, I somehow managed to be accepted to one of the top engineering schools in the US. Then I totally lucked out and landed a paid internship at a Fortune 500 company that paid for all of my living expenses, as well. I traveled to Rome for my thesis work. I traveled to Paris for company research. (All while trying to escape and also hide a physically abusive marriage). Then, I got out and moved to Kalamazoo to be closer to my family. I got a full time engineering job and after many sleepless nights and lots of help, I graduated with honors from KU with a BSIE and MSEM and I managed to get 7 job offers after graduation. I now now work for a Fortune 50 company and I own a business that will help people who feel like me right now—but in a much bigger way. We feel unheard. We feel forgotten. We feel trapped in our trauma.
Do you notice how throughout that entire synopsis, I rarely give myself the credit. Because up until this very moment I HAVE NEVER FELT THAT I DESERVED IT OR EARNED IT. Because I let this stupid situation that happened to me years ago little by little by little scrape away at my confidence and self-respect.
But you know what? I’m damn proud of what I’ve done and who I have become. I have great relationships and a wonderful support system. But listen, I can't lie. When I drive home and I reach the top of the hill on M-66 where Wait Rd. is... I start to allow myself to believe the lie and I am reduced to that girl in that photo on that day. I am naked and weak and nothing. I am the offender.
I later learned he was called into the office and admitted to what he had done. But, his parents were never called. I know this to be a fact because this was part of the apology I received years ago. Details. Selfishly, that's all I wanted. They never even opened up a file with his name on it. A few weeks later, he smiled big and took photos with his friends at graduation and moved on with his life. In fact, this was a blip on everyone else's timeline but my own. I have been drowning in this for years while everyone else sailed away happily. It was just a joke to everyone. I was the punchline to a number of derogatory and disgusting comments. The things I read and the things I heard changed me forever.
In my adult life, I received an unsolicited message from someone who was 5 years younger than me saying it was the first person he knew that he saw naked. And was happy about it. He would have been 12 at the time that photo was sent out.
Why was I punished? Why am I fighting so hard to be heard even now? It's years later and I'm angry. Was it because my family didn't have enough money? Was it because they didn't volunteer as much as they should have? Did I not have enough pull in the community for something to happen? Was it an inconvenience to run this through the proper channels? Was I being weighed in some utilitarian decision making process? One person's unhappiness was better than upsetting a greater group of people whose happiness and well-being meant more. I was a wayward soul who probably had it coming and it was better to save face and sweep this under the rug than to burn an important bridge. (A BOOSTER?! Never.)
Let's dig into this using an area of comparison. And please, I'm not trying to upset anyone. I am not saying that these two situations are exactly synonymous; however, about one year ago, I read in article in the Sturgis Journal about a former Sturgis Public Schools teacher who was initially charged with two counts of fourth-degree criminal sexual conduct, possession and distribution of child sexually abusive material, sharing sexually explicit material with minors and using a computer to commit a crime. And yes, the charges were dismissed as part of his plea.
But someone came forward with compelling evidence that this had happened, and legal action was taken.
The irony was that they had trouble proving it because snapchats disappear and that is where most of the interaction took place (predators are tricky). But, in my situation, I had no trouble proving anything. The records were right in front of them. Teachers were telling their students that if they had received the photo that they should delete it and not look at it. The varsity baseball coach found out what happened and sat the entire team down and just asked “What the hell happened?” But no one sat out a game.
We no longer know this teacher as a friend or a colleague or a beloved science teacher or a jv football coach. We know him as a registered sex offender who took advantage of girls that were 16. The offender.
So many people have questioned my decision to tell this story publicly. Justice won’t be served and what will I gain from this? Justice doesn’t exist. I will gain my
integrity. My truth. And if just one person feels empowered to stand up and speak louder in the future, I will gain everything. That’s Justice.
I'm not saying that the dude that leaked this photo needs to face legal charges and I don't care if you know me for the rest of your lives as that girl in that photo. What I am saying is that something should have been done and I'm starting to see that now as I scroll through my social media. Especially with the current headlines: Christine Blasey Ford, at no benefit to her or her family or their safety, came forward to tell her old and traumatic story involving Associate Justice of the Supreme Court Brett Kavanaugh. And so many people took time to stand up and say WE BELIEVE HER. Despite her lack of accolades or status. People spent a lot of time discussing these abhorrent high profile social injustices. And we are pissed off because it’s undeniably unjust that the victim always bares this burden. It doesn’t make sense that we attack someone when they were only telling their truth. And in the end, the truth bore no weight. We still have Associate Justice of the Supreme Court Brett Kavanaugh. And now we will have Dr. Clark. But, thanks to Christine, I decided it is never too late to speak your truth. It may encourage someone else to. And the more we talk, the more accountability there is.
I am overjoyed that marginalized people in our community are NOW starting to experience the freedom of being able to embrace their true selves without judgement or hatred. People are posting about how we need to start fighting to be heard and then left and right there are cases coming out about sexual misconduct because women finally have a voice and we APPLAUD their bravery and we hear their tragedy and feel for them deeply. I APPLAUD that, too. It's incredible. I want MORE of that. Keep sharing their stories on social media. Keep saying their names. Keep believing them. Keep supporting them.
But please, can you PLEASE stop for a minute when you start to voice your opinions about the injustice in our social and political systems in such a broad sense...Believe me you, I want all of these things, too. Desperately. But it starts with us. It starts with supporting those nearest to you. Let me remind you that change happens first in your OWN community. You have the opportunity to impact change by defending the people who live next door to you that face the same types of issues Christine faces. And you can do better. We can all do better.
Change doesn't happen by simply thinking about things. It doesn't happen because you posted a photo or an article on your social media accounts, people! Change happens first with the people you regularly interact with FACE TO FACE. Your job, your school, your community. Our community. That’s integrity. If you want the world to change then start small and maybe start listening without bias, listen to people's stories, be kinder & practice empathy even when it is NOT convenient. Even when it's not easy!
I should have felt the freedom to come forward knowing that I wouldn't be shamed and that this would have been filtered through the proper channels. In a perfect world, an awareness would have been spread about the severity of what actually happened. He would have been punished and his life should have changed and been tattooed with a felony and a sex offender label forever. He knew better because he knew he had to ask me to delete what I had on him. He knew what he did was wrong. And he didn’t want me to hit back. In a perfect world, my soul would not have been crushed and in a perfect world I would have been giving myself credit for working my ass off a lot sooner than this. I was reduced. But now I am more than I ever was despite whatever label I was given.
This is kind of my grand finale of a paragraph here because the other BIG POINT THAT I have been desperate to make for quite some time is this: I WILL NOT hear it anymore when people say I only went through this bad situation so that I could be stronger. Likewise, if it weren't for this happening to me, I might not have gotten to where I am today. Because both of those statements are STRAIGHT UP NONSENSE. And I am not going to apologize for that. What happened to me should NOT have happened and I will never believe that anyone HAS to feel that way to be amazing and so I will NOT claim that this experience is what helped me come out on top. Or that it drove me to succeed or that I needed it to help mold me. For Heaven's sake, NO. NO. That man, that school, that community...they are not responsible for my success, they are personally responsible for putting up every single barrier to try and prevent me from moving forward and doing good. I will only claim that it was ME who got me here (with the unending support of my sister and my mom and step dad). And I will also claim that I did it despite the torment. I didn't need the help of a bad situation to kick ass at life. But thanks for the opportunity to prove to myself that I’m way more than that photo.
I'll call this the summary paragraph even though it won't really summarize this mess of a story because there is no way you could possibly take all of this mumbo jumbo word vomit and put it into a summary paragraph...but I will say our world is changing. Technology is evolving. Information is moving faster. My hope is that our schools and communities are investing in the importance of using technology and not abusing it. My hope is that our schools and communities will start investing in the importance of allowing anyone to come forward who feels they've been violated or hurt and my hope is that they have the confidence that their situation will be dealt with in a way that honors them and gives them the right tools to continue to prosper and not lock them away for the sake of not losing the potential for more money in their school system. My hope is that people like me will not be defeated by one hiccup throughout their 28 years of life. My hope is that any victim of this type of offense can later drive up the hill on M-66, get to Wait Rd and just smile knowing full well that they are NOT defined by what an institution or a person has made them into. My hope is that they aren't hardened by the judgement they might have received in years passed and that they forgive themselves. My hope is that they receive justice. Repayment. My hope is that they feel loved and they are damn proud of whoever they are and that they have fairly and rightly earned every single accomplishment and milestone ALL ON THEIR OWN.
Thanks for reading.
S
Also, I want to say there were a few people who stood by my side and listened to me. There were a few families that advocated for me and wanted to seek justice for me. Thank you to those people...you know who you are.
