To Whom it Concerns...(Part 2 from Me)

To Whom it May Concern,

        Honestly it has taken me forever to write this letter. It's not that I disagree with anything because I don't, I am just nervous and scared for my brother. I've been reading and rereading all of his letters he has written to me, typing and editing behind this screen. You see my older brother is apart of my world, his heart and whole being was before me. I am the woman I am because of him, for him. Which is why I started my life all over here in Las Vegas.

        Let me introduce myself and start from the beginning. I am a Navajo Native American Woman born in the city and raised on the Navajo Reservation. I am second oldest out of 6 children. I am the oldest daughter. I am here for my family and I will stay for them as long as they need me. When I found out about the struggles that my brother, Johnston Blackhorse, had been going through I knew that I had to do something.

        However I found out about 2 years ago on August 26^th of 2014 through a small message sent on Facebook. I was then living in Tempe Arizona, I lived there for 8 years, it was my home at the time. The message was sent by my brother's ex and the way that she had revealed it to me was insensitive and abrupt. I was 70 days sober...I made it to day 73 and violently threw myself off of the wagon, so to speak.

        After writing to her back and forth I called him and got him to tell me everything. I was finally speaking to my brother and sending him money for his bills because he could not find solid work being on house arrest and without the internet. We bonded like we never have before. Our histories so alike, side by side mirrored time-lines. Even though I was helping my brother by listening and comforting him I ran myself thin while feeding my addicting habits.

        As a child growing up I was also a victim of abuse from men I thought I could trust, I thought that I knew, men that I loved. To hear the way my brother's ex spoke of him I ended up reaching for the bottle yet again and again; my crutch, my demons, my demise, my disguise. Drowning myself in confusion and darkness blacking out every other day walking the cold streets alone at night.

        On the morning of December 21^st 2014, it hit me that I was going to die. One way or another I know that I am going to die but I would rather it not be because of the bottle in my left hand or the cigarettes in my right, so I quit both at the same time. One of the best decisions of my life.

        From then on I was picking up the pieces with my brother. A new year started and I had no clue on what to do. I was in Tempe and he was in Las Vegas, I was working and he was on house arrest. Sobriety wore me out because I didn't have anything to lean on anymore. I had to face all of my regrets from the past head on.

        On May 17^th to the 20^th of 2015 I got to visit my brother on my vacation to actually see him. I went with a friend and that was when it hit me that I was not doing enough for Johnston. He was sleeping on some foam and blankets, selling all that he could to make it. The excitement he got from seeing me made me happy and sad at the same time, it seemed his loneliness was breaking him inside. When we had to leave him behind I knew I had to come back soon and I did, a lot sooner than I expected.

        On May 31^st he called and asked if I could move in. Of course I panicked and thought about it. I had just got a new position at my job and I was finally getting great pay. But I already decided the next day, I was going to do it. I put in my 2 weeks notice on June 5^th and started packing. I parted ways with family members and friends. Went to some movies with them. Ate and laughed, said good bye. Shook hands and gave hugs on my last day of work on June 19^th. I was actually doing it, it felt surreal at the time.

        June 23^rd started a new chapter of my life with my brother. I moved all of my belongings to Las Vegas; all I had to my name was an air mattress, clothes, books and some movies. The same friend that took me to see my brother the first time helped me move, for him I am forever grateful. When I arrived I made my brother's home my home. We don't have a vehicle but my brother had 2 bicycles and we worked with them just fine. I actually had a bike back in Tempe but it was stolen a month before I saw him on that one vacation, kind of funny how that worked out.

        June 25^th my older brother was sentenced. I had just uprooted my life and 2 days later I sat in a courtroom listening to people in suits talking of my brother. I sat there not knowing what to do. Clenching my teeth, my hands holding each other in my lap, my mouth dry and tears blurring my vision as I listened. The sentence was 41 months in prison. My brother who was once my protector, once my guardian, had more months added because he was a potential risk? Lifetime supervision? How did this happen? As I looked down at my hands watching my tears fall and land, I heard September 25^th of 2015 he has to turn himself in.

        Walking out of the courtroom, I never thought our footsteps would sound so loud echoing in our silence. My brother was in a suit and nice shoes, head shaved, so strong and brave. We were side by side, walking straight lines, heads held high. Strength flows through our veins, persistence will forever be in our minds. While his Public Defender shuffled papers avoiding all eye contact moved on further, she walked quickly out of our lives. From that point on my brother and I went straight to work, to fight.

        After I left my job in Arizona I had cashed out my 401K to help us get on our feet until he had to leave. From the end of June to late September we worked, but he did it tirelessly, hardly sleeping, barely stopping to eat. We had gotten the okay from the court for me to get the internet installed as long as it was only through land line and a desktop only I could get on. No WiFi and all electronics password protected and used only by me.

        In no time we had commissions coming in. We read emails and got to working on his blog. He did all the art then I put it all together. He would sit at his desk drawing and talking to me. We laughed and chatted through the many days and nights. We became best friends finally after a lifetime of not knowing each other.

        In the past my brother and I never got along as a brother and sister should. In our earlier years our biological father walked out on us and our mother. We lived in a small town in the South Eastern side of Utah. There was 3 of us, my older brother, me and our younger sister. Mom was about 30 years young and working several jobs at once to make sure we were taken care of. Brother was about 12 and helping mom raise us. When I say he was my protector and guardian it's true, but we were never really friends back then, we got through it all the best that we could together. He cooked, cleaned, watched over us and helped us grow up.

        Even though we were together all the time there were these walls between brother and us. I always believed that he hated us or that he couldn't stand us. I would try and sneak into his room and see who he was but there was just the typical boy stuff; his Nintendo, skateboard and comics. I never really touched anything out of fear that he would catch me. He also always had paper and drawing materials everywhere in every chapter of our lives so there's no real surprise that he would become the artist that he is and I am very proud of him.

        However getting older I took over helping mom raise the kids because after she met our stepfather they had 3 more children, 2 boys and a girl. Our family grew and I am happier because of it. Being the oldest daughter I have bonded with my family even more. Mom and dad were always busy working and providing, brother would just take off with his friends or go walking by himself. A few times I followed him but he would just be walking and of course being the child that I was I got bored very quickly. I stopped trying.

        Once brother left for college in California the rest of the family had already moved to the Navajo reservation which is where I took over all the responsibilities left by my brother and more...and when I say more I picked up a lot more. My life has been nothing but work and hard labor. Nothing but chopping wood, hauling hay for the horses and sheep. Hauling water, taking care of the dogs, cats and AC. Nothing but cooking, cleaning and nurturing. Nothing but earning and gaining all the strength and discipline that I need. My life had been and is everything. And now my life is even more so. Everything I have been through has made me and now nothing can break me.

        I helped my brother get past his anger and frustrations. When we lived together I was the only one physically and emotionally there for him. Yeah our immediate family knew of what we were going through but they never got to see the struggles thankfully. Mom and dad knew a few months after I did because brother had to tell them when he was ready. It was not my right or business to tell anyone if he was not ready.

        In those three months that we spent together we spoke about the past,worked on the present, prepared for the near future and planned for the rest of our lives. I got to hear my brother out on his life and connect it to mine side by side. I was able to reach out to him and tell him that he still has family and friends, people that support him that love him. He would have sudden out bursts with tears in his eyes and I felt his pain and anger. I calmed him down and got him to understand and know I was here and always will be.

        When he opened up about his truth as a child it tore me apart knowing he was hurt as a boy before I was born. I wanted so badly to reach down inside of him and rip those parts of his history out. Knowing what it's like as a child being destroyed I wish I could comfort his pain away. But I can't change that. So what we do is carry on, strong, together.

        Most of the time we spent laughing and telling each other stories. We understood each others pleasantries. Our humor was the same and so were some mannerisms and interests it was astonishing to us. I always felt like I was in competition with him but on so many levels we were exactly the same and it was amazing and a little frightening. We enjoyed it.

        Since he was on house arrest I would go out and get most of things that we needed. Unless he was approved to go out at a certain time then we would get water together or groceries or some necessities. We would sometimes order food in and enjoy them. Binge watch shows on the internet laughing and smiling non-stop. I would not trade any of these moments for anything in the world.

        The small window we had to be together came and went. We realized that my money was almost gone and he couldn't keep doing artwork to pay for the bills anymore so I had to get a job. All that matters is that we got to touch base with the fans he has and I got started on his blog.

        I became the messenger. The person between him and the keyboard. Johnston never knew he had such a following in all of the online communities that he drew for. Once we got online and read so many comments about people asking for him in the several different aliases he is known for. Hardly anyone knew they were all him. My older brother, Johnston Blackhorse, a well liked artist, was very thankful at these moments. Grateful and so humble. Everyone wanted him to know that he was going to be missed and thought of. In so many ways the online community has been such a great support system for the both of us. If any of you are reading this I thank you, from the bottom of my beaten heart, I thank you.

        So so so many times I have personally felt lost. I left everything I was behind and I didn't know if what I was doing was right. At age 27 I have started over for the third time and this time it was selflessly done. For blood and love I have made my sacrifice and I would do it again and again and again.

        September 25^th arrived and that morning we were getting ready slowly. Johnston cooked us a nice small breakfast, the last time he would be making his own food until he is back again. Then finally we were walking to the bus stop, I brought my bike so I could ride it back home alone. While we were on the bus we talked...kind of. We mostly just sat in silence for the what seemed like 20 minutes to get to the courthouse.

        Time passed way to fast for the both of us and I didn't know how to let him go. After reaching the Marshal's office and taking my brother's personal items from him that he couldn't take, we just looked at each other. For a moment I just wanted to grab him and take him out of there but I already knew that I could not. I finally saw my brother and he finally saw me and we hugged. I held onto him and I knew that we could never be truly separated again. Then we both stepped away from each other. There was a guard standing there watching us and I know that it didn't matter to him because he had already labeled my brother. As this man led my brother away it took every part of me to finally move. I walked down the hall, stood in the elevator and walked out the doors to my bike and somehow did not cry.

        I made it home and I was in shock, he was gone. For the first time ever I was alone. No friends and no family close to me. I was already working by then...in fact I worked that day from noon to 5 that night, I was only working part time at the register...

that evening I don't even remember.

        Both months of October and November were a blur. I don't know how I made it. Flashbacks of crying on the floor come to me here and there, I remember wanting to cower in the dark and drown myself in the cold numbness of my old addictions, but I didn't. I started receiving letters from my brother at the end of October. Letters and some very rough comics of what he was experiencing on the the inside. He also called me from time to time and hearing from him started to make the situation a little better for the both of us I believe.

        Johnston wanted me to post the letters and comics on his blog that I was still managing but I struggled with it. Once I got it all posted though so much support poured in through the websites, emails and donations. Even to this day we are both very grateful for them.

        It's almost been a year since my brother has been in prison and he calls me weekly. In the beginning of December of last year my brother's friend moved back in and I had my roommate. And truthfully this person has helped in ways I don't think he'll ever understand. Hopefully he will one day, one day. Maybe. Anyways, I have been working mostly full time now overnights, so has my roommate, daily.

        Everything is getting a little easier but I can't wait until my brother is back home with me. Starting over in a whole new city is no joke, I am still struggling actually. I know that I will make it though. My brother and I are pretty strong people separately but as a team I know that we will conquer all the dreams that we are set on. It's only a matter of time right now.

        Everything that has been posted anywhere recently from my brother had been posted by me, I have been the one behind the keys and this screen. Everything getting out is because of me. And I am doing all of this because of the love I have for my brother. If I had to I would do all of this all over again. Love means everything and I am all that I am because of the love that I have for my family and friends.

        Even so I know that what I am doing is right. I am doing right by my brother and the people that are in prison that shouldn't be there. I am not only speaking as my brother's younger sister but I am also speaking out as a victim. I have been hurt as a little girl from the ages 7-16 by several different men in my family and complete strangers. I will not be going into details because a lot of people in my family don't know of this and it would only open wounds that have been closed long ago.

        I wholeheartedly believe that the loli art my brother does helps people that need a victim-less outlet. It may not help everyone but even if it helped a handful it's helping. I also believe that prison is too harsh for first time offenders. Especially those that unknowingly download child pornographic images or video. I also believe that going through some program for pornographic addictions including house arrest would help more than time behind bars.

        The people in this country as a whole need some help, some support. If people truly want to help protect children the people need to understand the whys and the hows. Why are there people with these urges or addictions? What is the history behind it? What is the science? How do we help them help themselves to suppressing these “needs”? Who should be the ones held behind bars?

        Locking people up left and right just puts a stop to the time. To be back in society safely these people need to be taught more about what is going on in their own minds. They need some form of outlet whether it be stories, artwork or something. Anything to help them from harming children. Some maybe even need to stop cold turkey and find other ways to fill their time. Prison is suppose to be about rehabilitation but it's more of a school on how not to get caught, it seems like.

        As a victim growing up I believed that all children were hurt behind closed doors. That all little boys and girls went through what I was going through. That's possibly what made me cope with it better, as a child. I did grow wry of men and women of all ages though. Even to this day I find myself checking my surroundings always, subconsciously. However when I realized that what happened to me for so long was not normal and that people were sent to prison for it...it shattered my whole being. Even though, I kept it all within and I was angry and full of hatred. I hated myself and was disgusted of my own body for years upon years.

        However after all the self destruction I started questioning everything around me and everyone, silently. I was taking notes from the sidelines and I started to understand and forgive those that had hurt me. Maybe just maybe something or someone had affected them when they were children. Maybe they were also hurt as I was and that is how they are now because of it. Some kind of trauma they went through as kids made them.

        Now as an adult I have some what of an understanding that we need to listen and seek out healthier solutions to break these chains from our past generations. If we keep with this gross stigma innocent children will be hurt in our witch hunt regardless of our intentions. Children will grow up with this pain to repeat the cycle. And once a child is hurt are they lost causes? Is it their faults or our own for not trying a different approach?

        I know this is hard to read and honestly it is hard to type. I started this letter with this cursor blinking on a blank page now there are pages and pages full of my words following those of my brother. I have reread all these words over and over with tears falling and my voice cracking out loud. Many cups of coffee and many sleepless nights. So easy it would be to sit back and click on delete. I will not stand down because I know this could help children in the long run.

        I do not plan on having children or any intimate relationship in the near future or ever. If I have to I will sacrifice my whole life to helping my brother and also to finding ways to help others. It is frustrating knowing that there are people that are dying behind bars for mistakes they made. I don't have children but I have nieces and nephews. I have young brothers, sisters and cousins. I have friends with children. I am here writing this to help them down the road.

I was so close to death several times in my life. By my own hands most of the time. And to find out my brother was going through the same thing...to know he almost committed suicide...to know we both almost died? Makes us stronger knowing that we are willing to fight. Now that we have each other, twins born at different times.

        We both love our mother and our father and of course our brothers and sisters. Family is everything to us and their support keeps us living. To come from where we came from alone is difficult. What has happened to us as children is not our mother or father's fault. What has happened to us was a cycle that can be broken if people are willing to face the problem. Johnston and I have talked about the side effects of this trauma and we have also spoken about how we can be a part of the solution.

        I am in no way supportive of real child pornography. I too believe that the people that produce them should be the ones locked up behind bars. The ones that chose to be what they are. The ones using children for greed...the money hungry.

        This is all a step in a different direction. I am hoping this works. To the people we are sending this all to, you have the power to do what you want with this. You can delete it, not even read it or put it away for another day. You can read this silently in your head and not share it with another soul, go on ahead. Just as long as you know we are here fighting.

        I honestly did sit on my brother's letter for far too long because I feared this is all for naught. Even as I type this right now I am questioning you who follows my thoughts. I stare down at my hands still typing. I am a Navajo Native American, a young woman, a human being and I am worried.

        My name is Shawndean Robin Blackhorse I saved my name for last. Shawndean means Sunshine and my mother sometimes calls me her Sunshine Bird. I am a rock for my family and forever will be. I will make it through the storms watch me. I was born premature and I have been fighting since I was a baby to be me. I am alive, I am now and I will stick to my ground even if I find myself on my knees, crying, shaking or crawling... I will not go without a fight. I know this has to be right it just has to be.

        I know that I am only one person but the love and kindness that I hold in my heart has to mean something. I have to do something with my life. All the experiences that I have been through has to help my understanding. Spread some kind of empathy or sympathy. Help the children like me cope with their trauma and history to keep from creating more children like me.

        I am Shawndean, a name that might not mean anything to others but it is the world to me, it's my identity. Will you help me? I sincerely thank you for reading this through no matter what you do. I gave you an insight to my own mind...to my brother's mind. Again I thank you.

-Shawndean Blackhorse