Almost six months ago (January 21), I wrote “It’s a Process” about the synchronicities that led to my becoming aware of generations of trauma in my family of origin … how I came to see that I’ve been chosen to be an agent of healing for our family. I naively felt honored and enthusiastic about being so chosen.
And then I got the flu.
And then COVID hit.
And then came the lock down and personal distancing and mask-wearing controversies.
And then George Floyd was murdered.
And then protestors took to the streets.
And then our local YWCA sponsored a 21-day Racial Equity and Social Justice Challenge.
And then I listened to Krista Tippett’s Podcast conversation with Resmaa Menakem titled “Notice the Rage; Notice the Silence.” He spoke about racial trauma that both Blacks and Whites carry in our bodies and how healing needs to happen at a cellular level.
I began reading his book, My Grandmother’s Hands: Racialized Trauma and the Pathway to Mending our Hearts and Bodies.
And I became aware of a whole other level of trauma than the one I wrote about in January … historical and institutional trauma … going back to the Dark Ages when brutality was the norm. It lives in our bodies. I am aware of constriction I’ve carried for as long as I can remember. I’ve tried to explain it to myself from my personal life. I had no idea constriction is passed down from that far back.
While we see anger and violence in the streets of our country, the real battlefield is inside our bodies … all of our bodies, of every color.
~Resmaa Menakem in his conversation with Krista Tippett
Many years ago, when I served as an addictions family therapist, I was given feedback by an African American co-worker that our African American clients saw me as “Miss Nicey Nice.” At the time, I didn’t have the courage to ask what they meant. But that phrase haunted me for years.
Your niceness is inadequate to deal with the level of brutality that has occurred.
~Resmaa Menakem during his conversation with Krista Tippett
After listening to Resmaa, I reflected on the legacy of shame in my family … my introversion … my conflict avoidance … my “good girl” survival strategy … and how all this silences me … contributes to my difficulty speaking out … to my fear of making waves … to my fear of being disliked … to my attachment to comfort.
I recognized at a deeper level an area where I need to grow … where I’ve needed to grow for a long time … where my fear has been holding me back.
I risked breaking silence … I practiced speaking up … being confrontational even … about group dynamics in an interracial group.
… white comfort trumps my liberation.
~Resmaa Menakem during his conversation with Krista Tippett
I went on to exercise my “speaking up muscle” by addressing other issues … like institutional inequities … blaming the victim … disdain for the inner journey.
Each time I felt the discomfort.
I longed for validation … acknowledgment … soothing. None came.
I didn’t die. I grew a little bit stronger.
It’s a process … becoming a woman for whom growth, healing, and justice is more important than the comfort of being liked … a woman for whom I can feel proud.
I’m on the journey.
I would have to disagree with one line your blog Linda. “I grew a little bit stronger.” I believe you grew A LOT stronger:)!!! Your ability to look at your inner journey ALWAYS leaves me in awe. You teach me, guide me in a journey where I have a long way to go. I feel lucky for the opportunity to follow you there…
I think it is your “white eyes” seeing me as having grown a LOT stronger. I doubt “black eyes” would be so impressed. Being called “Miss Nicey Nice” happened 20 some years ago. And I still haven’t had the courage to talk with that African American co-worker about it. I have a long way to go.
Linda – This is a truly open/honest piece! Not a surprise for me, because I have always experienced you as learning, compassionate, and loving in all the circumstances I have experienced with you. Thank you for sharing. Grace, peace, and love to you.
Carol A
Thank you, Carol,
You seem to have seen me in my better moments. I’m keenly aware these days that my best is not good enough for the challenges we face in our country. I do give myself credit for being open and honest. I’ve learned from Brene Brown that vulnerability leads to strength. I could have learned that, too, a long time ago. “…for when I am weak, then I am strong.” 2 Corinthians 12:10
Dear Linda,
I agree with Diana—you have gotten a LOT stronger.
You inspire me with your dedication to growing and staying with it, even when it’s hard.
You are a guide for me!
Love,
Ani
Dear Ani,
Please check out my response to Diana. You inspire me with courageous actions you take … sneaking out the window in defiance of your parents to attend the March in Washington during MLK, Jr’s time. This “good girl” would never have thought of doing that. And recently putting a Black Lives Matter sign in your yard. I haven’t had the courage to do that in my neighborhood. As I said to Diana, I have a long way to go.
Your words offer encouragement that we can do the same. Your naming what held you back has a powerful resonance. Keep it up!
I think it would be more accurate to say “naming what holds me back.” I am increasingly aware of how hard it is to go outside my comfort zone. I have a long way to go. Glad to have the company of one who wants “to do the same.”
This blog is one of my favorites because I think you have described well that sense of feeling alone and longing for support when speaking your truth, and yet you have had the courage to go ahead and speak it even when no support comes. I experience you as very dedicated to your inner journey and the growth you achieve is very evident in your life.
Well, I’ve had a little courage recently to go ahead and speak. The future is yet to be determined. I wonder if “black eyes” would experience evidence of growth achieved when they look at me? I think they’d focus on how far I have yet to go.
Linda, thank you for sharing this courageous post. I too have had the experience of being silenced, and have been struggling to overcome that programming. I think it can only be undone by speaking out and undoing it. I think once you start speaking your truth, it’s hard to go back to being silent again. You have started on this path, and I can’t see you going in any direction other than forward!
Wow, Cindy, There sure are a lot of us who have experienced being silenced. Validation for what a common experience this is for women in our culture. I remember meeting a woman from Australia at workshop years ago. She handled conflict in a much more direct fashion than I was able and wasn’t shy about telling me about it. I was in awe of her. As a conflict avoider, my biggest challenge will be speaking my truth when I know the other person doesn’t want to hear it. In fact, I did that just today. I set a boundary with a relative … something I’m sure he won’t like. And I did it respectfully. So no matter his response, I feel good about mine. Maybe you are right … it will be hard to not speak my truth in the future. I seem to have a lot of company here with others working on that. Thanks for being with me on the journey.
This post beautifully illustrates so much of what I admire about you…Your courage, your honesty, your quest to grow and mature, your ability to communicate, your caring and commitment to social justice. I have been struggling mightily with negative responses to my recent attempts to speak hard but important truths. Your words comfort and empower me. Thank you.
Dear Kathy,
I can own what you admire about me up to “your caring and commitment to social justice.” When I read and listen to the horror stories of African American (and it could apply to any number of groups marginalized by we whites), the more I learn about their experience and our history of suppressing and brutalizing them, I question how caring and committed I’ve actually been.
I’m sorry you’ve had negative responses to your attempts to speak the truth. I guess we need to prepare ourselves for that and grow our ability to handle it. Resmaa’s words “…your comfort trumps my liberation” keep ringing in my ears. I’m keenly aware of my love of comfort. Call me anytime you need to process the feedback you are receiving. Perhaps we can hold each other up. Love and blessings to you.
Linda, great story! I love the YWCA, working hard against racism and for women and girls! I’m going to read My Grandmother’s Hands as my own family history has some trauma that goes way back, and I can only imagine the horror black bodies have held for so long. You know what makes me happiest about your blog post? I too am a ‘nicey nice’ but age has loosened my vocal chords. Keep going, Linda, I’m right there with you.
Dear Linda,
Thank you so much for your comments. Yes, the work the YWCA does is quite impressive. If you haven’t already read Mark Wolynn’s book, “It Didn’t Start With You: How Inherited Family Trauma Shapes Who We Are and How to End the Cycle, I recommend it. It is where I started my journey of looking at inter-generational trauma. Then Resmaa Menakem”s “My Grandmother’s Hands” just deepens and expands the message. The horror African-American’s have faced is horrendous … and we white’s for the most part have just moved along with our eyes closed to it. Tragic in so many ways.
Thank you for admitting to being a “nicey nice.” I think we white women are enculturated to be and it is the rare one among us who “speaks her mind.” I can remember my mother’s disapproving tone and facial expression when she talked about a child “with a mind of her/his own.” I thought but didn’t say, “Whose mind is she/he supposed to have?”
Glad to hear that age has loosened your vocal chords and you inspire me to let mine loosen, too. Thank you for your encouragement. Glad to have a sister on the journey.
This is perhaps your most powerful of all your powerful blog articles. I’m in SE therapy now and you make a lotta sense to me based upon my experiences. Thank you, dear friend, for sharing your vulnerability and wisdom. Love, Damian
Thank you for responding, Damian, and for your validation. It means a lot to me because I know you wouldn’t say “powerful” and “wisdom” if you didn’t mean it. Blessings to you on your healing journey. Love,
Linda
Dear Linda,
It seems that you have been on several different journeys with opportunities to speak your truth along the way. As you self-explore and speak from your heart, these journeys appear to be converging and bringing more clarity which has given you the courage to keep moving forward. I admire your commitment to let your voice be heard. I feel blessed to hear your thoughts and challenged to speak out myself. I need to overcome my being “nicey nice” as well. In my world of professional work before I retired, I learned to be assertive in most situations without fear and that felt so good and so effective. In fact, it helped me be assertive in my home life. I seemed to have lost some of that ability in the last few years. Your are helping me see how I can recapture those skills and use them to speak up about social justice.
Thank you for sharing. Love, Cathy
Thank you for commenting, Cathy,
I’m not sure my voice is “heard.” My challenge is to speak anyway, even if it goes into the void. Nice to have another “nicey nice” with me on the journey. I admire your professional assertiveness and am glad to hear you are recapturing it in your current situation. From what you share with me, it sounds like you handle your difficult situation thoughtfully and intentionally … no reactivity which would only make it worse. That takes wisdom for sure. The social justice arena needs all our voices, so glad you are planning to speak up there as well.
Love,
Lnda
The hard shell of white privilege is fraught with self-deception and blindness and shutting out all the senses. If the world is going to change – if unconscious racism and prejudice is to see the light of day and be dismantled – white people must begin the work of addressing our own shells and the collective shells where white privilege hides and protects the one inside who does not want to face discomfort or give up the advantages that come with the inherent privilege. This is not easy. I am with you, Linda, in this uncomfortable, distressing and heartbreaking journey of cracking the shell. May we have the courage go deep and wide for the good of the whole. Love to you and all the good folks on this blog.
Wow, Jen, what a beautiful metaphor … cracking the shell. You language the process well. And you are so right. It is not easy. Thanks for being a valued companion on the journey. And, yes, a lot of good folks responded to this post … here and on Facebook. It is gratifying to be surrounded by people willing to leave their comfort zone and grow. Blessings to us all.