*Celia, a slave.

"If you’re reading this, you’re probably another prisoner.  Atleast I hope you are ‘cause I need you to be.  In order to understand how I ended up in this position you'd have to understand me. I was born in Missouri in 1836, and bought when I was just 14.  I knew a lot of blacks were still being bought to work on plantations and stuff so when I was bought I figured I would have the same faith.  The rape and abuse started the first time I met Newsome.  I was not only his house slave.  After one night and many nights to come, I became his sex slave.  Two children later and the rape still was happening.  I grew used to him even though I did not welcome him.  With no one to talk to, no one that would be able to help me at least, I figured what was happening was normal.  The only person other than Newsome that acknowledged me was another slave named George.  He was the only one that actually listened to me and tried to help me through it so it’s easy to see how our relationship started.  One night I snuck George into my cabin after Master had left and we did the forbidden.  Our relationship was going on right under everyone’s noses, even Master Newsome’s.  As it went on, George stressed to me how much he wanted me to end my relationship with Master but how was I going to do that? I loved George but I also knew what could happen if I displeased my Master. 

            I got pregnant and had no clue as to who the father was.  Of course Master Newsome figured my baby was his and so did George.  At this point all George wanted me to do was stop Master Newsome from hurting me. And I wanted the same. 

I couldn’t take it anymore. I was pregnant with my third child.  I couldn’t let him do this to me anymore.  One day, I grew so tired of his advances that I spoke up.  I told him didn’t want him to visit me anymore and you know what he did? He laughed and didn’t say a word.  Later that evening as I was just getting ready for bed, Master Newsome came to visit.  He tried to touch me and I lost it.  I picked up this stick that was next to the fire place and I hit him on the head with it.  I was so angry that I didn’t notice what I had done until I saw he wasn’t moving.  I had killed him.  The rape was over.  When I finally caught myself, I had to get rid of his body.  I threw him into the fire place and let him burn.  In the morning, I buried the bones that didn’t burn in the forest behind my cabin and got little James [Newsome’s grandson] to sweep the ashes out the fireplace. 

The next few days, his children and grandbabies searched for his body and I acted as if I knew nothing about it.  After about a week of searching and denying I had anything to do with it, I found out George told on me.  According to one of the other girls that lived on the plantation, George told the Newsome’s that they would find Master by my cabin.  When I found this out, I confessed.  I told them what I did.  I even told them about the rape and abuse and it didn’t matter.  All that mattered was that a woman, a black woman, a black slave woman killed her master, her white master. 

This brings us to where we are now.  I’ve been writing this letter in secret for the past few days.  Me writing this letter is a crime on its own.  The man who is supposed to be fighting for me wont let me tell my side of the story and even if he did, Missouri law wouldn’t allow it.  This is why I chose to write.  No one believed me then and they don’t believe me now. They don’t believe a woman, a pregnant woman at that could kill a white man on her own.  And the fact that I was black and he was white made it that much worse.  Im sitting in this cell for the murder of Robert Newsome.

You’re probably wondering what happened to George.   Well, he told the judge about us and what I had done.  He told on me but I couldn’t bring myself to bring him into this.  He convinced me to murder Newsome but I was the one that committed the crime.  No one made me. 

I refused to be taken advantage of any longer and because of that, Im probably going to live the rest of my life right here.  I hope that you are able to share my story with any and everyone who listens. 

If you’ve never heard this, know this now, thank you.  I have to go now.  It’s late and I can hear the watch guard coming. ‘Til next time."