Phylicia Barnes and the Black Girl’s Burden

In Baltimore, a person is reported missing nearly once a day — police investigated 352 reports last year, and found all but four people. Those who were not found, police believe, were killed in domestic or drug-related disputes. Most victims had something in their past — a bad relationship, a link to nefarious activities or people — to which a motive could be attributed.

Even Barnes’ mother, Janice Sallis, who arrived in Baltimore, after calling the Deena to check on Phylicia and finding out that she couldn’t be found, was steeling herself for the worse. I remember watching her on the local news, commenting on how despicable it was for whoever had taken her–she was certain she hadn’t run away or wandered off alone–to take advantage of the young girl. “If she’s alive,” she said, “she’s scared to death.” The “if” was significant; Sallis knew the odds.

Still, the Barnes case had its distinctions from other missing persons cases in Baltimore. First, Barnes was an out-of-towner. It’s probable that the Baltimore police felt a particular pressure to solve the case because of this. Because Barnes knew so few people here, it was difficult to find leads and suspects. Aside from the ex-boyfriend, there were no clues. At one point in the investigation, a family member reported that the 16-year-old had texted to say she was leaving the house to find a meal before her sister arrived to take her out, but she didn’t mention whether or not she was alone. If this were the case, then her killer could be anyone she might’ve encountered on the walk. By extension, the killing of a tourist could bring substantial bad press to the area.

Initially, the opposite was true: there was very little press on Barnes’ disappearance at all. But as the trail grew colder, Sallis became more visible in her quest for answers, and missing persons billboards went up in search of Phylicia, a campaign began to garner national attention. Chief spokesperson for the Baltimore Police Department declared, “Phylicia Barnes is our Natalee Holloway,” as he expressed bewilderment about the dearth of national coverage.

It worked; Sallis’ appearance on the national news circuit. The FBI joined the search. Search efforts redoubled.

It’s a common complaint that the disappearance of black women in this country is rarely treated with the same gravitas and public outcry as the disappearance of white women. This belief fueled the coverage campaign for Barnes and, eventually, yielded yesterday’s results. Though initial autopsies were unable to reveal the cause of Barnes’ death, hopes remain high that the recovery of her body will result in the necessary leads to find her killer.

For my part, the disparities between these of these incidents of disappearance don’t end at news coverage. The resolution of this case only confirms something I’ve long been taught by my foremothers: black girls are least likely to survive the adolescent experimentation with which every teen finds herself confronted. The wrong car ride, the wrong walk to the corner, the wrong party invitation, the wrong sleepover at the wrong house can get us killed.

In addition to hoping for justice, I also want this case to ingrain the following message: vigilantly guard your own safety, even among friends, even among family. There is no guarantee that they’ll do it for you.

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