Jiwon Lee’s body was found Sunday. She’d been missing since April 1st.
If you need help, please reach out.
When the posters first went up, first on the trains, and then on every street corner, I didn’t recognize her. Even in Crown Heights, there’s one right on Classon and Prospect. I saw a guy taping it on, struggling with a gusting piece of packing tape.
If you’re too sad to live, please talk to someone about it.
Then comedy friends started posting about knowing her, asking their social networks to keep an eye out, and report tips, and donate to the fund for a PI her brother was organizing. This is the first time the actual government beat my social media network to informing me of something.
If you can’t imagine existing for another day, let someone know.
One day, a friend posted a photo of Jiwon online that looked a little different. I’m not sure how to describe it. Her face looked… more focused, maybe? I think it was her ‘stand up’ face, lit up by the joy of the stage. Or maybe guarded to get onstage, I don’t know. A performing face, anyway. But suddenly, I recognized her. I’d seen her perform, at Rififi’s, or Mo Pitkins, maybe. Parkside Lounge? I didn’t know her well, and she mustn’t have hung out in quite the same circles, or I would have booked her on my show without a doubt. But I think we spoke at least once, and I have a memory of it being at the Creek. Funny how I didn’t recognize her for weeks, until I saw that stage face. I can remember her voice though. There was a unique cadence, and a sharpness to it that I remember.
If you feel totally overwhelmed by your life, please ask for help. Tell people what you are feeling.
The beginning of this year will always be tied up with those posters, for me. Jay Ott* and Jiwon Lee. Two handsome, intelligent, capable and successful people, whose internal existence, it seems, were far less bright.
If all you can think about is killing yourself, and how it would be preferable to not be alive anymore, please reach out.
On Wednesday, it was pouring. I has an afternoon show, but I didn’t want to walk 15 minutes to the fast train, or even 12 minutes to the medium paced train, so I walked east to take the Shuttle train. As I crossed Classon, I saw the poster of Jiwon falling off the post, ripped and soaking and broken. It was raining so hard, and the poster was just paper. But it was hailing a couple weeks ago and the poster was still up!
If all you can think about is how it would be better to be visibly injured so you could actually do something about it, call a helpline.
I remember thinking that she must have done it, and I got so sad and angry. Not really angry at her, just angry. Angry that’s our culture makes it hard to reach out. Angry that mental illness and medication is still deeply stigmatized. Angry that it’s hard to talk about how we feel inside, even to people we love and trust.
Send an email if your voice won’t work. Send a text if an email feels too hard or too real.
Please, please, please don’t kill yourself.
*Jay Ott has not been found.