[Park Supervisor],

During that meeting at the day use area, you framed our early interaction as an emotional wound inflicted on you. You were performing, of course — and I knew this even as I apologized to you a second time for something that didn’t warrant an apology, because
I was trying to keep the peace.

But you did emotionally wound me, and now I want you to know how.

You took something deeply sincere and read it through the most cynical lens possible. You met vulnerability with suspicion, complexity with projection, and instead of asking a question or seeking to understand, you moved to solidify a narrative that cast me
as dangerous. That move — conscious or not — disfigured what might have been possible between us.

I wasn't careless with you. I was just myself. And in your role, that should have mattered. That should have been protected. But instead, you used your authority to make me question whether there’s any space in this institution for someone like me — someone
unwilling to fragment, to perform, to smile past their truth just to make others feel comfortable.

That experience narrowed my world. It forced me to contract in places I came to serve. And that harm is real. And I'm still metabolizing it. It is why this letter is necessary - because healing requires confrontation with the truth. And now I have delivered
it.

You didn’t have to understand me. But you could have chosen not to punish what you didn’t understand.

In closing: you abused your power. Repeatedly. Covertly. You took a position that should require integrity, humility, and discernment — and instead, you acted to protect your own authority, regardless of the cost to others. That is why I built the archive.
Because even if your institution won’t hold you accountable, it will. And it is my sincere hope that it is enough to prevent you from ever inflicting that harm on another person again.

Sam