Can collective pain trigger personal trauma?
One of my close friends texted this question to me a few days ago.
“Yes, definitely,” I replied. What’s going on with you?
“You know I’m a father and a grandfather,” he replied. “I worry about my sons.“
What if a white cop pulled them over? Would they survive? I’m restless. I’m not sleeping well.
I watched the news about Daunte Wright’s murder. I can’t shake it.
It’s even hard for me to focus on my work cause I’m so distracted.
I need some time away… some time to heal.
Can you and your team host a Club House Room so folk can just talk about what they are feeling?
On that note, I picked up the phone and called my friend. The one thing that I could offer was a listening ear.
We talked about how our ancestors must have felt in the face of loss, how they must have felt when black men were being lynched. We talked about how unsetting it is to watch the news.
There were pauses and moments of silence. While I didn’t have any answers that would save the day,
I intuitively knew that these moments of connection were healing. I also knew there were things we could do.
“You know what our ancestors did?” I asked. Without waiting for a response, the words poured out:
They gathered. They sang. They danced and prayed and shouted.
They rocked. They told jokes and stories and they laughed.
They cooked comfort food and ate together. They planted flower gardens and vegetable gardens. … worked the land.
In the midst of trauma they still found joy!
We ended the conversation with laughter. I sighed and smiled, grateful to have been able to offer an ancestral medicine prescription to my friend when he needed it most.
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