To my black friends as we rise up against structural racism,
I have been struggling this past week. Let’s face it. I have been struggling this whole year. It has been an extremely triggering year where it seems I have been swinging between a numb, manic state and a hopeless state. It hasn’t been easy to find those moments of grounding. And even those moments have been inundated with the trauma memories and grief I have been ignoring the rest of the time. So to be fair, I have been struggling this year. But this week took things to another level. The death of George Floyd is absolutely horrific. The death of every single black person leading up to his death has also been absolutely horrific. And the racist responses have been equally horrific. My own trauma has been triggered in so many ways. And yet, at the same time, I can say that I cannot ever truly understand the trauma that black people have endured in this country. I know what it’s like. And I don’t know what it’s like.
As a trafficking survivor, I know what it is like to be sold. I know what it is like to be valued for the money I can bring in and the “work” I can do. I know what it is like to only be valued for that. I experienced the worst of humanity as they raped me for money and truly did not care about my own pain as a human being. They never saw me as a human being. But I don’t know what it is like to have it be societally acceptable to do this to me. They had to keep up appearances. It had to be hidden. It had to be in the shadows. It had to be undercover. The world would have been horrified if they had known of my experiences. It would not have been justified as acceptable by the greater population.
I know what it is like to be told I am not as good as others. I know what it is like to be called evil and nasty and wrong. I know what it is like to be set up for failure psychologically. I came out of childhood thinking I would never amount to anything. I would never be good enough. I would always have to settle in every aspect of my life because I was damaged goods. But I also don’t know what it is like. I don’t know what it’s like to be set up for failure by an entire society in every system. I don’t know what it is like to be deemed to be less qualified for college, work, housing or loans because of the color of my skin. I cannot know that. I have never known that. And because of that, I had a way out. I had a college education and a job that allowed me to walk away from my family. Of course, it wasn’t that simple. The psychological impact of my trauma cannot be minimized. But my privilege was a huge factor in my recovery.
I know what it is like to be told my anger is the problem. All my life, I was told that the abuse and trafficking was not the problem. I was told I needed to stop being so angry. I was told I was out of line. I was told I was causing more problems for myself by being so difficult. I was not allowed to fight back. I had to be “peaceful”. I was told to calm down. Everybody thought I was crazy because of my anxiety and depression. They could not understand why I had reacted so intensely to my abuse. I just needed to stop reacting. I wasn’t being rational in my response. I know what it’s like to be the problem. But I don’t know what it’s like to fight against that on a global scale. I don’t know what it is like for my entire race to be labeled as angry. I could feign peace with my meditation and spiritual language. People would believe it because of the color of my skin. My physical illnesses were never attributed to anger even though they were caused by it. I could fake it because I was white … at least until they got to know me.
I know what it’s like to be gaslighted. I wasn’t allowed to interpret my reality. I wasn’t allowed to have my truth. I was only allowed to have the truth that was handed to me. I know what it’s like to be told there isn’t a problem while screaming in pain about the very real, huge problem. I even know what’s it’s like to experience this on a global scale. “Repressed memories aren’t real. You must have made that up. Your parents seem so nice. They are upstanding (and white) citizens. They are middle class. They would never do such things.” But I don’t know what it is like to be gaslighted before I open my mouth to speak. I don’t know what it’s like to experience gaslighting just for walking in a room. I don’t know what it is like for people to walk up to me and give me their very uninvited opinions about my race and my life before I have ever said a word. This I don’t know. I am a white middle-aged woman. That makes me invisible. And believe me, I have used my invisibility to grab that bit of distance and safety when I just cannot take another damn word of denial.
I know what it is like to be kept alive only because it would be difficult to explain my death. But you don’t. I am alive today because when a little white girl goes missing, people care. I am alive today because my white middle-class family could never have reported my death without a full investigation and someone going to jail. I am here because my death would have mattered to the system. And so many black children and adults have died because this wasn’t the case. I knew some of them. They were trafficked with me. I don’t know where they are today. But I can say that there would have been accountability for my murder. And there needs to be accountability for every murder. That has to change now.
So be angry. I’ll be angry with you. State your truth. And if someone tries to deny your truth, I’ll tell them they are wrong too. Fight for your rights. And I’ll fight with you. I don’t want my privilege. I don’t want to be able to do things you can’t. Take the time to address how you feel about yourselves and your worth. The idea that you are less worthy is a lie that must end in every one of our conscious and unconscious minds. And I will do my part to move these beliefs out of every mind that comes my way. You matter. Your lives matter. Enough is enough.
Elisabeth
* A quote from a friend of mine: “I’m really starting to take in more and more how my experience as a person living in a pretty chaotic home situation with an abusive father, mentally ill brother, etc. was very much ‘colored’ by our race and how the world perceived us. I think it’s high time that we all understand that race and all the societal perceptions connected to that really are an integral part of the story of those struggling with mental illness/trauma, etc. It’s not separate. My father was a black man born in 1931 in Union, South Carolina. Surely, there were racial injustices that shaped him into the wounded person he became that turned his anger and hurt onto his family. It’s undeniable. So I’m working to call these things into focus. I’ve shied away from delving in for so long because of pain, anger, frustration, and other hard feelings that bubble up.”
Thank you for sharing. Profound insight and awareness is appreciated.
Thank you!
What an impactful statement. So valuable to make the explicit links (and limits thereof) between familial trauma and systemic racism. This will being it home for readers who have been traumatized but not suffered racism, and maybe it will make more real the deep empathy that abides just by looking inside.
You have beautifully summed up my hopes about this blog. Thank you!
You are an exceptional human being and I always enjoy reading your writing. All I can say is thank you to you. I am of Asian heritage (living in Australia) and am experiencing anti-Asian sentiment, particularly now with COVID-19. The racism was always there, just below the surface, but the pandemic just brought it out into the open. Even though I personally understand racism, I cannot imagine or compare my experience with that of your African-Americans. Like you, I will keep hoping for a better world for everyone.
Thank you Mai Lee. I am so sorry to hear you are experiencing racism. We have to keep fighting until this is no longer a part of our world.
Hi Elisabeth, I really hope you have other forums to share this blog/article. I want to encourage you to send it to The NY Times and any other newspaper who could use this to fill an Op Ed space. The majority of white people don’t really get it. It’s a very deep subject and I just love how you’ve eloquently crafted this as a comparison. It’s incredibly effective.
I too could have been be a statistic. A heroine addict dead at 25. But I was white and came from money. The college degrees, the ability to hide, the ability to fake it .. were critical tools to making it this far.
This is not a topic of the week. I pray this topic stays visceral in the mainstream for many months.
Thank you so much Jen for your very kind words! I hope it stays visceral in the mainstream too. We must keep it alive.
Thank you so much for your article, in stating with such raw honesty what you went thru as a trafficking survivor, but also what you were privileged to avoid as a white woman. I am a 77 year old Chinese-American and have survived physical, sexual, emotional and racial abuse since I was 3 when we escaped from communism to the U.S. I am retired now, but counseled various abuse survivors for 35 years. Like you,I surmise, healing from trauma for me has been a long and arduous journey, one that still continues today especially with COVID-19 originating from China.
With a diagnosis of cancer in 2011, the cancer metastasized in 2014 where it still remains and, therefore, still requires treatment. I am happy I can say,that at this point, I am functional enough to draw on my clinical training and experience to help other survivors of trauma. For the last 2 years, I have been moderating the OptionB Support Group for Survivors of Abuse and Sexual Assault. This private group was started by Sheryl Sandberg, COO of Facebook, where many members have indicated a dearth of skilled trauma based therapists exists. Sadly, many have been misdiagnosed or have gone thru half a dozen therapists before finding one who can actually help them. When I was diagnosed with cancer, I was forced to retire and felt lost after working in this field for 35 years. Moderating this group has given me a new lease on life, and now am researching to write a teaching memoir about the arduous journey to heal from trauma and the exploration of holistic methods to enhance treatment.
I will be posting your article with my group in the hopes that members can garner hope and be inspired by your journey to healing. Please take good care and keep safe.
Thank you so much for sharing it and for all your work to heal yourself and others!
Elizabeth. WOW! THANK YOU FOR SHARING!
I’ve shared this before and also cannot relate to the injustice and abuse of my black brothers and sisters but what I can share is the injustice of living life as a homosexual. I am butch and when I walk into a women’s public restroom, I get the stares, the snarls and the rude comments, and ridiculed. When I joined a Kairos prison ministry group, I was told I could participate but could not discuss my life, you know kind of like the military, “don’t ask, don’t tell.” That was a real reinforcement for an upbringing catholic family. I participated in prison ministry from 2009 to 2019 with my true identity on the back burner. I was even called a dyke in anger by one of, what I considered, my Kairos sister. I was brought before the council, a board meeting, to discuss my homosexuality and my continued participation.
In 7th grade, my mom condemned me to hell. She made my oldest sister attack my girlfriend in high school at the time, instigated the whole situation. It was my fault, of course for being gay. My dad looked at me in disgust all the time. One of my older brothers dated my high school sweetheart which was encouraged by my mom to deter the gayness from my life. Broke my heart. My high school sweetheart was more than willing and my brother threw it in my face. He was extremely mean and abusive toward the family with drugs and alcohol and all that was sugar coated and approved by my parents. He was the favorite and could do nothing wrong in their eyes. The law didn’t agree though. He did prison time twice.
At my current place of employment today, I get snarles, and comments under their breath about my appearance, “grow your hair out, you’re freaking me out, hate all the faggot shit as I’m working out in the gym.” You can smell the hate seeping through the hallways at work. But my shield, my worn out shield, walks through the hallways, engulfed in the shame and guilt that was originated from my family of origin. I used to hide in my bedroom lifting weights because I dare not have muscles. I even tried to go straight one year in my young adulthood to satisfy my parents, I hated it. Miserable.
Now, I’m the same daughter she condemned to hell in 7th grade, the same daughter who has financially been taken care of her. The same daughter she condemned to hell, arranged all of the funerals for the family members who died from drug and alcohol abuse. And the brothers who are still living today, whispered in my dad’s ear, “don’t worry dad, we’ll take care of mom,” before my dad took his last breath, are no where to be found.
This same mom who was against gays now lives under the roof of her lesbian daughter. Just typing that stings. It pisses me off. Where is your son who you put on a pedestal and encouraged to stomp on my high school heart and date my girl. Oh yea, he barely wants anything to do with you. He only calls you because the gaslighting guilt still works on him from you. Deep down inside, it was the only way my narcissistic mother could guilt anyone into doing anything.
We are all anxiety ridden because of yours and dad’s own anxieties and dysfunctionality. You even tried to drink a tea to cause a miscarriage so I would not be born. You admitted that to me! Who does that! What the hell were you thinking!
Rejection at its finest!
I wish I could have shared this message below with my parents. It’s from Peace Pilgrim:
ON FEAR: THERE IS NO GREATER BLOCK TO WORLD PEACE OR INNER PEACE THAN FEAR. WHAT WE FEAR WE TEND TO DEVELOP AN INCREASING HATRED FOR, SO WE COME TO HATE AND FEAR. THIS NOT ONLY INJURES US PSYCHOLOGICALLY AND AGGRAVATES WORLD TENSION, BUT THROUGH SUCH NEGATIVE CONCENTRATION WE TEND TO ATTRACT THE THINGS WE FEAR. IF WE FEAR NOTHING AND RADIATE LOVE, WE CAN EXPECT GOOD THINGS TO COME. HOW MUCH THIS WORKS NEEDS THE MESSAGE AND EXAMPLE OF LOVE AND FAITH.
Sharing this reminded of one time when I confronted my father. He was looking at me with one of his infamous looks of disgust as I was walking out of the house. I was tired of his shit and I was about 21. I stopped in my tracks and turned to him and said,”What is your problem with me! Why do you hate me so much!” We were inches away face to face yelling, he yelled back,”I hate the way you live your life!” I yelled back, “LIKEWISE!” I continued, I hate that that you’re an alcoholic. I hate that you’re abusive. I hate that you hate us.
That felt great!
After that moment, I don’t really remember my father being so prejudice or opinionated about my life anymore. Of course, it wasn’t perfect but message was received, I’m not taking any more of your bullshit.
So my brothers and sisters of color, I want to apologize to you from the world who has held you in contempt just for being you, beautiful in every corner of your life.
I’m sorry for your pain and injustice. I send you spiritual hugs and love and my prayers. And although I cannot relate to the prejudices of being black in this twisted, corrupt world, I can relate to the painful rejection, the induced shame and guilt and blame just for being who God made me to be, a beautiful lesbian woman who loves sunsets and animals and who just wants to live in peace, harmony, love, joy and happiness.
Thank you Elizabeth!
Thank you so much for sharing this story Regina! Thank you for your commitment to staying YOU as you faced so much horrific treatment for it!