A Letter To Royce White
December 30, 2012 in by Jordan White with 2 Comments
Dear Royce White,
I’m done. I’m sorry, I tried, but I can’t do this anymore.
I wanted so badly to support you, to back you in your fight to raise awareness about mental illnesses and break the stigmas surrounding them. But it’s hard to believe that’s what you’re fighting for anymore.
At first, I thought you were fighting the good fight. You used your celebrity to speak out against the misconceptions surrounding anxiety. Was it uncomfortable at times? Yes, but the tough yet essential topics are always uncomfortable at first. Continued discussion is what makes them less so.
Teams were scared of you. You were outspoken about your anxiety in a realm in which most who suffer from mental illness keep quiet. And yet, your openness was what gave me, and countless others who suffer from mental illness, hope. When you were drafted, it seemed like a victory for all of us, those with a mental illness, and those who just wanted to see a player of your unique talents take the floor.
Unfortunately, things didn’t get off to a great start. Issues about travel and support systems arose instantly, and prevented you from being at training camp. Then it prevented you from playing in all of the Summer League games. But you did get on the court, and that should have been the start toa promising rookie campaign and a chance to show everyone that anxiety doesn’t have to control our lives.
Should have been. It wasn’t.
Instead, more issues surfaced, and you began a war of words, a war you couldn’t possibly win, with the ONE organization that was willing to take a chance on you. You called them unsupportive, uncaring, ignorant. You called them liars. You took to twitter, howling about this misdeeds and unsafe environment not just of the Rockets, but of the NBA itself. With every chance you got, every perceived slight, you railed against the very people who were trying to help. Only you didn’t want help. Help involves compromise, not bending over backwards to acquiesce to one’s every demand. More and more, it seems like that’s what you actually wanted. You wanted to get better, to join the team, but only on your terms.
There were those who tried to get through to you, to show you that although your heart was in the right place, the direction in which you were headed could only lead to disaster. But you didn’t, no, you wouldn’t listen.
You had the amazing opportunity to make an impact not just on the court, but off of it. You could have broken down barriers. You could have been a leader, a voice for the silent sufferers of mental illnesses, showing them that they don’t have to be ashamed.
And you blew it. Your #AnxietyTrooper and #TeamAnxiety rallying cries, once endearingly cheesy, are now outright embarrassments. Don’t you realize that with every petulant outburst or refusal, you’re further cementing the already negative misconceptions regarding mental health?
You’re not helping. You’re making it worse.
I hate writing about this. In a better world, a world for which you were supposedly a champion, I wouldn’t have to continuously write about you. I wouldn’t have to say that your actions are not representative of me, or anyone else who suffers from anxiety, or depression, or a multitude of other mental illnesses.
Once, it seemed like you were actually trying to help, addressing this taboo in a constructive manner. Now, it just appears you’re using your anxiety as a cover for…well…being an ass.
I know anxiety is a struggle. No, scratch that, I know anxiety is the asshole that holds your head underwater, lets you up just enough so you can remember what breathing feels like, then shoves your head underwater once more. But that doesn’t give you the right to be a petulant brat when you don’t get what you want.
Today, Royce, you lost most of the goodwill and trust your bravery and candor won you. It was already slowly eroding with each outburst against your employer, but when you referenced the Newtown tragedy in your statement refusing Houston’s D-League assignment, somehow equating the massacre of 28 people, 20 of whom were children, to your plight, you hammered the final nail into your own coffin. It was ignorant, and it was beyond disgraceful.
It’s a terrible thing to lose hope. But I’ve lost all hope in you, Royce.
Signed,
Jordan White
