The Importance of Recognizing Intergenerational Trauma and Oppressed Voices Outside Our Intersections

For many of us striving to educate ourselves in social justice theories and branches of traumatology- especially those addressing and healing intergenerational trauma- Black History Month can exist as nothing other than the utmost call to action.

Something that grows increasingly apparent to me as a learner is this: we cannot continue to look at great injustices through our own narrow lenses; we must work widen the scopes of our lenses through doing our best to examine others’. I believe we may do this through practicing empathy and compassion, through active listening, and creating real conversation- discourse is often a core component of that.

When we acknowledge that something isn’t working, we can’t be complacent; and for those of us who wish to be agents of change in this world, we can’t allow ourselves to be complicit, either. I believe those of us who hold white privilege have a moral and social duty to insist better- of one another and of today’s society as a whole.

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Here’s one big way I believe those of us with white privilege must start doing better RIGHT NOW: we must not call Black and Indigenous People of Color (BIPOC) problematic when they raise their voices and call out injustices they experience. We must not assume we understand. We simply cannot diminish lived experiences which we do not know and cannot ever. This is not to subscribe to a theory of moral isolationism, but rather something more akin to radical empathy.

I wish as a society we can work collectively to move towards a more trauma-aware language, one in which we never refer to the most marginalized people themselves as “problematic”, and we may be careful when we call any human being “toxic”. It is my most sincere hope that we will strive instead to honor and uphold the dignity of every human individual, especially those who experience more oppression than us so often simply because of the color of their skin; that we may instead work to address people’s behaviors, actions, and language while not hiding behind our own white fragility and discomfort. 

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I believe it’s important to recognize that many of us with white privilege won’t always be perfect allies, and we may falter greatly in our social responsibilities; that doesn’t mean we get to throw in the towel, give up, and walk away when we make mistakes (I know I have made plenty!). We were reared and continue to live among colonized communities that uphold and reinforce a white ideal, both explicitly and implicitly; we have all been deeply conditioned to reinforce this status quo. Let’s work on changing that.

If there’s one thing I can advocate most strongly for this Black History Month, it’s education. Truly, no matter where you are and where you come from, the color of your skin, your identity, or your ability, educate and re-educate yourself about how systemic oppression and trauma impact your life. 

Learn about intergenerational trauma. Learn about social conditioning. Learn from people different from you in whatever capacity you can (the internet counts!). Check your privilege. Use your voice while still listening to those of others.

And learn to apologize, and to apologize meaningfully. 

This is post is my small effort to try and do my part as an ally, advocate, and a student who is always trying to do better- but for some far wiser and more illuminating individuals to learn from, here are some great smaller instagram accounts to start with. The majority are run by people of color; some are also simply my absolute favorite trauma-informed accounts on instagram that always strive to include culturally informed, intergenerational trauma theory in their posts. 

.@traumaawarecare
.@traumanadco

Some of these accounts I have followed for months, while others I have only uncovered within this past week; I so look forward to engaging with their content.
There are so very many more incredible individuals to learn from in this internet space, and there will inevitably be people to learn from in your life off social media. May we find them and may they fill us up with their teachings.

Blessings,

Morgan

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During the Darkest Nights

Recently, I have found myself drawn back to the literary works of Victor Hugo. One passage from Les Miserables stood out to me particular, as 2018 came to an end:

“Teach the ignorant as much as you can; society is culpable in not providing a free education for all and it must answer for the night which it produces.”

I cling to this passage, for I must keep believing that even the darkest night will end and the sun will rise.

Do you hear what I hear? Do you hear the people sing? 

dream within a dream forest

In 2018, I was overwhelmed by chorusing cries of injustice, of pain and suffering. My voice  added to the choir. As another year begins, I find myself overwhelmed by it all, and I find myself trying to find a new resolve to carry on in a world that often feels lost to darkness. I often find myself in tears, losing hope.

But Hugo says: “Those who do not weep, do not see.” And I believe there is a great deal of truth in this sentiment. I have learned that it is okay to be sad- to hold grief and sorrow close as we act witness to human suffering and suffer our own trials and tribulations in turn.

Yet still, Hugo also reminds: “Laughter is sunshine, it chases winter from the human face.” During the dark nights, I believe we must find some laughter, some joy, to sustain ourselves, whenever possible! And I find my laughter and joy in love: “To love or have loved, that is enough. Ask nothing further. There is no other pearl to be found in the dark folds of life.” Oh, how love fills me up! In my friendships, and most of all in my marriage. I’m slowly learning that it’s okay to love imperfectly.

morgan on new year 2018

This time of year is often a time during which I personally have to work my hardest to exercise holding space for dissonant and confusing thoughts- About life, about faith, about people, and about myself.

And so I’m trying. To make space, to remember “and”s over “but”s, to be patient with myself and with those I love, and to remember joy even as I’m sad. To be many things at once and accept what comes; to remember people can only learn when they are ready, myself included.

Happy New Year. May peace and goodwill find you, whoever may encounter these words.

Morgan

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Come What May: Finding Purpose

 

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“Who will scent the fragrance of a flower?

Who will laugh at snowflakes on the tongue?

Who will dance barefoot in the grass? Spinning and twirling and spinning and twirling

to welcome to warmth of May…”

I would like to say that I am a light-hearted and joyful spirit who laughs at snowflakes when they fall on my tongue; that I frolic barefooted through grassy fields of flowers;  that I remember to welcome the warmth of each May.

But the real truth is that there are days when I forget to open the blinds on my windows, when I cringe at the bright sunshine; there are days when I fail to comprehend the immense beauty inside snowflakes’ crystalline swirls, and I only feel the bitter cold that accompanies their frosts. There are days when I just can’t see the vast forest through the dense trees, and I just want to collapse in my own eternal winter-land, devoid of beauty, hope, and any sparkling snowflurries- a place where I believe I am all alone in my suffering and no one will find me- or even reach out to try. I find myself wanting to give up, to leave it all. 

I talk a lot of talk about being “here”, about how we all have the right, and the worth, and the purpose. I cheer out sentiments: “You’re brave, you’re a warrior!” and perhaps most of all, “Keep going- don’t give up.” But what does it even mean to “give up?” and to “be here”? To be on this earth, to be alive and to be so audacious in search of fulfillment, of these evasive and fleeting treasures such as love and joy- or even of reprieve from pain? 

The connotations of “giving up” and “being here” are vastly complex- but I would like to humbly assert that in the context of this conversation, they all come back to life and what it means to take part in it. And what that means will be different for every person who tries to define it- we all experience this world uniquely from one another. But the shared pieces of our human experience make for such an immensely less lonely existence- because we are never alone, not really. Our minds deceive us with that feeling of isolation; our egos can’t conceive of how big our world and the human capacity for empathy really is.

As such, I’d like to share with you how I have grown to personally define meaning and purpose in my own life, and why doing so sustains me and brings me peace  with my existence (or some semblance of it!). It is my hope that doing so may bring someone else some peace, or hope, or a feeling connection. You are not alone. If you are reading this, you are here. And I’m glad. Stay awhile longer.

 

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For me, being here- being alive- has become a thoughtful and ongoing journey about being in the present as we all strive to forge ahead into what may hopefully become a brighter tomorrow. It’s about treasuring the good memories and making peace with the painful ones; it’s about learning from both our past and our present as we create our future. It’s about telling our stories, singing our songs, and counting the colors of the sunrise so that we may later say goodnight to the fading sun, knowing what it looked like in all its splendor. It’s about engaging our senses in the whirlwind of the world around us while we’re here… because it’s all a miracle. Life is a miracle, and we are life. 

My journey will always include reflection, compassion, and prayer. I will pray that all of us can continue to find compassion for one another and compassion for ourselves when we at times will inevitably neglect to see the beauty all around us- even within our own hearts. I am making a vow here and now to do my best to welcome the warmth of each May, and the dawn of every new day- in all their sunny rays.

Peace and Prosperity to You All,

Morgan Michelle

Photography Credit goes to my Loving Husband

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This reflection was inspired by Joan Varner’s choral piece, “When I am Silent”. I performed it with my school choir when I was twelve years old, and its poetry has stayed with me to this day. I have included the lyrics below a link to purchase sheet music:

“Who will sing my song when I am silent?

Who will count the colors of the dawn?

Who will follow the lark’s flight?

Who will hear its song?

When I am silent

Who will sing for me?

Who will scent the fragrance of a flower?

Who will laugh at snowflakes on the tongue?

Who will dance barefoot in the grass?

Spinning and twirling and spinning and twirling

to welcome the warmth of may?

Who will dance when I dance no more?

When I sing no more?

When I am silent

Who will cry for me?

Who will cry?”

https://www.jwpepper.com/When-I-Am-Silent/3052495.item#/

It Is Okay to Be Here

 

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My husband found this lonely little plastic school chair all by itself underneath a tree while he was on a walk, recently. He had observed a certain strength about it, in its solitary state. It felt like it had a story, somehow. Most things that have been inside institutions do, after all; isn’t it funny how we can extend that logic even to the objects within them?

But I am not an object. I am a human being.

Far too often it has felt like I have had to clarify that fact for people around me. How I have great capacity to experience joy and sorrow, pain and pleasure- that I have an authority and a right to take up space in this world, too, as an equal to those who try and push me down- the people who have tried to make me feel less than. And who, at times, tricked me into believing that I was.

But I’m still here. I’m a survivor of this strange and miraculous world. And chances are, if you are reading this, so are you.

So perhaps that is why it felt so appropriate to sit upon that little chair, to be both distinct from it and in harmony with it; one object and one person, both still here, still existing- even if we’re both a little beaten up. This is me; I take up space and I refuse to apologize for it anymore. And it can be you, too.

I invite you, whomever you may be, to join me on the journey towards speaking freely and unapologetically in this world- recognizing our power and capacity as people to use our voices to help and not harm, to make a difference. What a miracle it is to be alive, one day at a time.

It is okay to be here.

Peace and Prosperity to All,

Morgan Michelle