On November 6, 2025, Marshawn Kneeland, 24, defensive end for the Dallas Cowboys, took his own life—just days after achieving a spectacular milestone: his first NFL touchdown.
I don’t do football, I’m not a man, and I’m not Black—so on the surface, you might say I don’t have to fight that fight. But I do, because this is what white supremacy in action looks like: it teaches all of us that we are never enough, never worthy, never safe in our own humanity.
Recently, I did something I never believed I could—I wrote openly about my lived experience of child sexual violence. A first for me.
Four years ago today, my brother was still alive. I planned to write about that, but I didn’t want to hear the usual, “You have to get over it.”
No. I don’t. Grief doesn’t work that way. I miss him every day, every minute, every second.
My brother died of an overdose—he was the third in my immediate family. He didn’t leave a note, but I know why he took that last hit. We spent our childhood taking turns keeping each other alive. I’ve been writing to him, and to the ones who died before him, ever since.
And I write to the family who are still here—still fighting to survive while quietly hoping not to.
Stay. Please.
Because this is the original war. This is a war against our children.
Jason Egenberg, thank you for sharing this on LinkedIn. I hope you’ll send me an invite to connect. And I hope you’ll read my book.
Our world is less without Marshawn Kneeland.