The Freedom Writers Diary - Erin Gruwell [77]
When we reached the Washington Monument, we formed a huge circle around it and we all began to sing “Stand by Me.” During that moment tears of mourning began to fall from everyone except me. I didn’t want to think about the painful memories of close friends whose lives were blown away like dust in the wind. We held hands again and walked back to the hotel after we pinned the buttons that had names of people who were killed because of violence on a tree in front of the Washington Monument.
The pain that everyone was feeling didn’t hit me until we arrived back at the hotel. I just couldn’t hold it in anymore. I began to think about all the times that I was almost killed and the fact that my name could have been on one of those buttons. Right at that moment I felt like I was going to have a nervous breakdown. My heart was beating fast as the tears ran down my face because all of those painful memories that came back. I had constant flashbacks of all the guns put to my head, all of the bullets that barely missed me, and all the times I thought to myself, “Just give up, they’re gonna kill you anyway.” But I couldn’t give up, I didn’t give up, and I will never give up!
Diary 91
Dear Diary,
I’m thousands of feet in the air in a “Freedom Writer Only” plane, on my way home from Washington, D.C. As I look at the clouds, ice crystals build up on my window, and my eyes become heavy with fatigue. (It was hard checking in our baggage and then running to the plane. The girls’ bags were ten times heavier than when we left.) I’m sitting here thinking, “OK, so this is what it’s like to fly first class.” This is my second time on a plane, the first was when we went to Washington. Me, on a plane? If I’d never met Ms. G, this would have never happened!
“Yeah right,” my sister said when I told her I was flying to D.C. Even my stepdad was skeptical. I saved my plane tickets, just so I would have proof that I’d actually gone, to show him when I get home. Actually, I saved just about everything—my movie ticket, a handkerchief from the hotel, even the soap and shower cap!
You’re probably wondering how one little female high school teacher brought such drastic changes into my life. Well, I have about four hours before we land in LAX, so I’m going to sit here and tell you a story of how my life was changed by this “little” high school teacher…Just thirteen years ago, I felt helpless, like I’d never be free. Thirteen years ago may seem like a long time ago, but to me, it seems like yesterday…
“Give me some money!” A deep, booming voice yelled at my mom.
“I don’t have any,” my mom cried.
“Yes you do! I know you do! You just got your welfare check. You better give me some money or I’m gonna fuck yo’ son up!” Afraid this man would hurt her child, my mom foolishly gave him all the money she had in her purse. It couldn’t have been more than twenty dollars. “Yeah, I thought you didn’t have any money, you lying bitch! When I get back, that little nigga better be gone,” he said. I sat trembling on the couch, his prized possession. “And get the hell off of my couch!” He grabbed me by my shirt and threw me across the room. Then he picked me up by the neck. All I could think of was why is he was doing this to me. I didn’t do any thing to defend myself, it’s kind of scary having a six-foot-four giant, with arms built to