Hate is alive, and it’s closer than we want to admit.
By Shamecca Brown, Columnist, Granite State News Collaborative
When I read about the death of Trey Reed, a student at Delta State University in Cleveland Mississippi, who was found hanging on Sept. 15, my heart shattered. This wasn’t just news on a screen – it was a wound that cut deep. A young Black student, gone in a way that carries the weight of centuries of racial terror. And here we are in 2025, still asking the same haunting question: How can this still be happening?
I’m livid. I’m scared. And as a mother, my fear multiplies. My daughter will be applying to an HBCU soon, and instead of celebrating her journey, I lie awake at night thinking about safety. Thinking about hate. Thinking about how fragile Black lives are in a world that continues to turn a blind eye to violence against us.
This isn’t just about Trey Reed, it’s about what his death represents. It’s about how hate operates in silence, creeping into our schools, our neighborhoods and our daily lives. People say, “That doesn’t happen here.” But hate doesn’t care about geography. It doesn’t care about boundaries. It exists everywhere, including in the Granite State.
What we should be talking about is the truth: Lynching is not a thing of the past. It has transformed, but it hasn’t disappeared. We see it in suspicious hangings, in racial threats, in systems that dismiss our pain as paranoia. We see it when officials hesitate to call things what they are, leaving families without answers and communities without justice.
And here’s what keeps me up at night: Hate today feels sharper, more emboldened. In 2025, we’re supposed to be moving forward, but instead it feels like hate is spreading faster, finding new ways to dress itself up. Sometimes it’s in a cruel comment, sometimes it’s a threat, and sometimes, as in the case of Trey Reed, it’s in the unthinkable.
I feel the anger rise in me because hate isn’t just a feeling; it’s an act of violence. It’s the cruelest part of humanity. And when people try to dismiss it, when they minimize it, when they call it “rumor” or “unconfirmed,” they’re asking us to swallow our pain and silence our fear. But I won’t.
Because hate doesn’t just kill bodies – it tries to kill hope. And if we don’t speak up, it wins. This affects us all, whether we want to admit it or not. When one of us is targeted, all of us are shaken. And in the Granite State, where people like to believe racism doesn’t run deep, I say this: open your eyes. This violence may have happened in another state, but hate knows no borders. It could happen here. It has happened here.
The legacy of lynching still haunts America. We cannot keep sweeping it under the rug as if time alone will erase it. It won’t. And every time we see a story like Trey Reed’s, we are reminded that the work isn’t done. We are reminded that safety for Black children, for Black students, for Black families, is still not guaranteed.
I am angry. I am scared. But most of all, I am awake. And to anyone reading this, I ask: what will it take for you to be awake too?
Because pretending this isn’t happening won’t protect us. Facing it just might.
For those who want to learn more about the history and ongoing impact of lynching in America, I encourage you to read the Equal Justice Initiative’s work on racial terror, Lynching in America.
Shamecca Brown is a New Hampshire-based columnist who is family-oriented and passionate about serving underserved communities. These articles are being shared by partners in the Granite State News Collaborative. For more information, visit collaborativenh.org.
These articles are being shared by partners in the Granite State News Collaborative.Don’t just read this. Share it with one person who doesn’t usually follow local news — that’s how we make an impact. For more information, visit collaborativenh.org.