Mateen’s Story

Hi, I'm Mateen Lomax. I want to tell you my story. My prayer for this group is we find unity despite our differences.

I was born and raised in Utah by my handsome black father, and white mother. My dad always told me my first words were "food" and "mom". He said I would only talk to my mom and we had a secret language, but he knew what I was saying. I was saying (in a british accent) "Mother. Mother I would love some milk, mother! Thank you mother" I loved sitting on my dad's lap while he played video games, and then cry my heart out when my mom came home, acting like I was totally neglected while she was gone. I was a momma's boy! I enjoyed listening to those stories because they were happy memories. Personalized for me by a father who was the only one who could tease me and I wouldn't get upset.

I was so excited to start school. Education and physical abilities came easy to me. I passed classes without batting an eye. I remember at a fairly young age, kids saying my skin was the color of poop. I didn't say anything because I was embarrassed. Then in 4th grade my mom got a call from the school saying a kid in school called me the N word. My mom was really upset, and asked me what happened at school that day and I told her some kid called me a funny name. I didn't even know the word because my parents thought it was something I didn't need to worry about at such a young age. I would get in trouble at school because people knew how to engage me in a way I would react with anger. Moving forward a couple years. My dad coached a basketball team where we had several brown kids on the team. I remember this game being intense because the other team was undefeated, and they became very angry and frustrated that we were beating them. During the game kids were cheap shotting us, calling us poop, and other derogatory names. Well, we beat them, and there were some heated words between our parents and the other team, but thankfully we all left safely. But I could see the anger in OUR team's fathers as they realized that they wouldn't be able to protect their sons from the ignorance around them.

I was excited for junior high. A new opportunity to make new friends and learn more things. I was excited for some classes that always interested me ( drama and acting). Drama was a great outlet for me, because I could express feelings and emotion and receive good grades for being over dramatic. I also remember being excited about PE, and an opportunity to use my athleticism. I was very competitive, and absolutely hated losing. It only took a couple weeks before I went to the PE teacher and told him I wanted to be transferred out. HE wanted to know why, and I explained it was because all the 9th graders were calling me the N word, and constantly harassing me about my skin color. They would say I was too sensitive, and that they were just kidding, but I didn't like it. I was a 7th grader, and having four to five 9th graders surround you and peck at you, trying to get to me, wasn't worth the class. So, I dropped out, and signed up to an art class. I hate drawing and it has never been a talent of mine, but it was better than being surrounded by bully's. My mom was going through cancer at the time, so I told my dad what happened. HE was furious because the school never called him. So we went to meet with the Principal. He immediately looked up my grades, and saw I was a "good" student. He asked me who the boys were that were bullying me, but I didn't know their names because they were older than me, and I had just started 7th grade. The Principal pulled up the class, and picked out every boy that was a part of it. He knew who the trouble makers were. My dad told the Principal that he had handled this situation peacefully, but he was giving me permission to protect myself should this happen again. Junior high was hard, and my mom was battling cancer through most of my junior high days. I was battling how to deal with young teenagers who were all trying to fit in. There was a group of boys, mostly my football brothers. Most of them were Polynesian. They formed a "Black Club" and I wasn't invited in. So it was hard for me to feel a part of even my football team. I didn't engage much with them because I didn't think they really liked me. I did tell them all I was a thespian, and that may have distanced them a little further from me!

I survived junior high, and moved on to high school. Playing football, trying other new sports. I thought wrestling would be fun. My best friend was doing it so I thought this would be a great way to hang out with him. The excitement didn't last long. After being called the N word in front of coaches, and the coaches telling me that "we all call each other that, so I should just chill". Kids calling my mom a mud shark because she married a black man, and being threatened I would be beat up if I didn't wrestle the girl I was partnered up as my opponent with. I quit. Well actually my dad told me to quit. So I did. I always had a hard time around my piers because I never felt like I fit in. They were always goofing off and I liked things a little more serious. So I enjoyed being in the company of adults, and found many meaningful conversations there.

In 2016 when Trump became president, again I had one of my football brothers tell me to get ready to go back to picking cotton again. They would tease other black kids on our team that were raised by white parents, and call them OREO. We were supposed to be a team, have each others backs, but yet there were some of us picked out to be the brunt of our teams jokes.

There was a kid at our school driving around with a confederate flag on his car. I told the office that was extremely offensive to me, and they told me there was nothing they could do about it. I felt isolation all around me. Friends I had played sports with for years. Peers I thought were my friends, who I would try to reach out to, but they didn't want to be bothered with me. So I withdrew for the most part. I stopped trying to engage too much, because I didn't want to be hurt anymore. I was safer alone, in my basement playing video games. I tried explaining my views in certain classes, and most my ideas were shot down pretty quickly. I even left class one day because I was the only one with my point of view, and I let it get to me. I didn't play rugby my senior year. A sport that was near and dear to my heart, and absolutely loved playing. I didn't play because I didn't feel apart of a team, I know I was partly to blame, but there were kids that just made it miserable for me. My senior picture quote was "I don't want to be here. " Think of the irony in that.

I continued to struggle with people. I worked at Olive Garden when it opened up in our town, and I was so excited to have a job that I could show how responsible and capable I was. One night as I was cleaning under one of the tables, I sat at the booth to get something from under the table, only to hear a young white kid say to his friends, "THEY are so lazy", and pointing over at me because I was sitting.

So on to college. I did meet many people, and enjoyed those interactions with peers, and college professors. But I had started to build pretenses in my head. Telling myself things that weren't necessarily true. Believing things, and unbelieving things because it was easier to justify certain behaviors, that I wanted to experience. I put expectations on people, and didn't receive back what I thought was how people showed friendship and love. And I became blind to seeing the humanity in others. All I saw was negativity. It was enveloping me, and all I felt was isolation even when hanging out with everyone. Things became darker, and the battle became real. My pride kept me from asking for help. I knew I had parents who loved me. My dad was my best friend, but I was too ashamed that he would be disappointed in me if I told him of some of my struggles, and challenges I was facing. SO I gave up. I was tired of the weight of everything piling on. I was suffocating, but I didn't know how to find any air or relief. Here are some final words from my suicide note, " I'm not doing this for attention. No one will care anyway. This is because I want to die. I'm F&#^$ done. And to be honest, no one really cares what you have to say until your dead."

Here is what I have to say..... So what do I wish people could see?.. I wish people could see that there is a God watching over YOU! HE LOVES ALL OF YOU! He wants to see you all find humanity that gets lost because of politics, because of religion, because of money, power, and privilege we think we deserve.

So can you let go of pride, and be vulnerable long enough to see change? I wish I could change things. I wish I would have had enough courage to ask my dad to rescue me, but I was too prideful, too scared, too numb to understand that my actions would be so devastating to people that genuinely loved me. You all still have an opportunity to change. To find love, hope, and understanding in humanity. My hope and prayer is this! -Mateen

PLEASE use Mateen's death as an opportunity to realize the impact we have as human beings on those around us. Listen to others and their stories. So you can understand and empathize, WITH something you have never had to experience.