#and not a generational trauma that will pass to their grandchildren

[mariacallous]

Yesterday, I watched A Real Pain in the cinema. The film is a beautiful representation of two cousins, united in love and grief for their grandma, exploring their family history on a heritage trip to Poland. This experience is familiar to so many Jews I know – whether attending a trip to Auschwitz-Birkenau or visiting Yad Vashem in Jerusalem, the idea of a poignant pilgrimage to see where our ancestors lived, died, survived and escaped from, is commonplace.

I’ve certainly had these experiences. When I was 12, my paternal grandparents, Ann and Henry Ebner, took me to Vienna, where Henry fled from the Nazis with his parents when he was two, arriving as a refugee in the UK just weeks before the start of the second world war. In the same year, my maternal grandma, Anna (Panni), took me to Budapest, to see where she and her husband, my grandpa, George Garai (Gyuri), had lived. Panni was six when Hitler’s troops invaded Hungary in 1944, and she survived by being hidden in an orphanage. The memories shared with me on this pilgrimage were painful ones; being separated from her parents, returning home after the war and sitting by the window waiting to see which family members would come back – and so many never did.

Gyuri died before I undertook these extremely special trips. In Budapest, Panni pointed out to me the synagogue he had his barmitzvah in, and the shop his father owned. I was seven when he died, and I never had the opportunity to hear his story from him directly.

Truthfully, my age at his passing had nothing to do with me not hearing his story. As is sadly so common with Holocaust survivors, Gyuri did not speak about his experiences with his family – his trauma was too great. However, he was a journalist, and a very talented writer, so in the 1990s he wrote an autobiography, which he called his ‘CV’, and I read it just a few years ago. My grandpa’s resilience at the age of 18, when he was taken to two labour camps, two concentration camps and on a four-day-long forced death march, is something I can never truly comprehend. I hope one day to be able to publish his CV for him.

I will never know why Gyuri chose not to share his story with his family. Perhaps he worried it was too distressing for us to hear, or maybe he didn’t want his wife and two daughters to see him as someone who had been through such horrors. To me, Gyuri is the same person he was before and after I read his testimony. He will always be my warm, loving and lovable grandpa, with his hearty laugh and twinkling smile. He was grandpa only to me and my brother, but I wanted his story to reach beyond our family.

In 2021, I came across the Holocaust education charity Generation 2 Generation, which empowers the children and grandchildren of Holocaust survivors to share their parent or grandparent’s survivor testimony. With their support, I developed a presentation about Gyuri’s life before, during and after the Holocaust. Audiences learn about the survivor as a person – their personality, upbringing, family and life beyond the Holocaust, alongside integrating their powerful eyewitness testimony, in their own words.

I am so proud to have shared Gyuri’s testimony at dozens of schools, numerous workplaces, and several religious and community groups. This month, for Holocaust Memorial Day 2025, I will be heading to Bristol to speak at a local council event, continuing to share Gyuri’s story in schools, and speaking at a prison.

Each audience I speak to feels special, powerful and unique. While Gyuri never felt able to speak about his experiences in the Holocaust during his life, in his final days, he asked our family to – in his words – “tell the world what happened to me”. This is why each talk feels so incredibly special, because I know it is not just me who is fulfilling his final wish, but the room of people who now know his name, face and story, who are fulfilling this wish too. It is wonderful when I hear feedback from audiences about the power of hearing his testimony. It is a privilege to be able to share my grandfather’s story, and I also feel it is my duty, as his granddaughter, to do what he never felt able to do, but felt so strongly about being done.

I’ve been asked why I believe Holocaust education is so important, and I find it hard to verbalise. It seems so obvious to me, as the grandchild of survivors, that these stories must continue to be told – it sounds cliche to quote “those who forget history are doomed to repeat it”, but with every passing year, it’s clear we are continuing to forget the horrors humanity is capable of. Gyuri’s final message was clear: tell the world, so they can learn from it. I sincerely hope you do.

[dbunicorn]

American Surgeons Return from Gaza, Call for End of U.S. Culpability in ...

Try a human centric view. Not religious/ethnic. See your own children & grandchildren on both sides of the divide. Imagine the generations of anger, dispossession. Bleeding heart or not. You know this truth.

Most people trust medical professionals for a reason. Is this a just response or revenge? Naive or not, the long term trajectory of these events will be passed to your children.

There is no total victory. Just rage, trauma, politics, loss.

[marmolady]

Grandchildren: Leonel

Summary: Endless Ending timeline. Middle-aged Taylor and Estela are entering a new phase of their life together, welcoming their grandchildren into the family. In four parts; this is PART TWO.

Word Count: 3208

Tagging: @saivilo, @edgydepressedchoicesthot, @sceptilemasterr, ​@mauvecatfic @rhemenway888

Thanks for reading!

________________________

2058

Rosa was trembling as she hung up the phone, the news taking several moments to sink in.

It was a ‘yes’. It was happening. She was going to be bringing home her baby boy.

The whole story went back several years-- or to Rosa’s birth if we’re talking the real beginning. Raised in one of Santa Juana’s children’s homes after being abandoned on the doorstep as an infant, she’d found herself drawn back there, initially to help process her own traumas but then to lend a hand where she could in helping others through the system. The home wasn’t far from Rosa’s university, so it was easy enough to volunteer an hour or two most days, just being there as a friendly face. Even after graduating, she kept up her commitment, and then… Leonel arrived.

Rosa had actually been at the home when the baby was discovered upon the doorstep. Foundlings were not unusual in San Trobida; taking into account the small population, baby abandonment could even be considered commonplace, especially around the two main cities. The tiny country had found stability in the decades since the civil war, but the knock-on effects remained. Leonel, like Rosa, was a casualty, presumably, of that ongoing trauma. She’d jumped in to assist, not knowing that as soon as she took the infant in her arms, she would feel a pull to him as if by a chain through her very heart. Leo didn’t have to spend years in the system, bouncing between orphanages and foster homes; Rosa wouldn’t let it be. She would be his mom.

Months had passed. There was a lot to be arranged. Rosa was ready to be a mom, and began nesting. Her home was also her mothers’. A lot of San Trobidans lived in multi-generational households, so it wasn’t a concern; Rosa talked with Mama Taylor and Mama Estela about the possibility of her moving on to her own place, but they were undaunted by the prospect of a live-in grandchild… and Rosa just simply preferred her family close. It was no longer the separation anxiety that had plagued her in years gone by-- she could leave, she just didn’t want to.

Leo wouldn’t have that problem, she’d make sure of it. He’d never know a day where he’d wonder if someone, anywhere, wanted him. Rosa would ease him through his feelings about his background, and he’d know she was on his side, always, even when she wasn’t physically by his side.

Tears began to roll down her cheeks. You’re coming home, baby.

With shaky steps, Rosa entered the kitchen; her moms were putting a simple dinner together, and were engaged in conversation that halted as they saw their daughter’s dazed state.

“Rosa?” Estela straightened her back, as if bringing herself to her full height to intimidate some invisible threat. Ready for action should Rosa need her.

Taylor was quicker to get a read on Rosa’s expression. This was good news. She put her hands to her face. “Rosi?”

“So, uh… I’m gonna be a mom.”

And the room erupted with joyous squeals and shouts.

____________________________

“Penny for yours?” Taylor asked, sitting down at the breakfast table. Estela looked as though she was miles away.

“Hng?” Estela brought herself back to the present. “Huh, sorry, I was just a little lost in thought there.”

“I mean, fair enough. It’s a lot to get your head around-- this time tomorrow, Rosa’s bringing baby home. Once things got moving, they got moving fast.”

Estela smiled gently. “Yeah… it hardly seems real. Reminds me of when we were doing this. Long… long time ago now.”

Rosa was their baby, but she was no baby anymore, but a twenty-three year old young woman. The years had flown by, far faster than they’d done with Liv. Just two years out of college, Rosa was stepping away from her fledgling teaching career to focus on the child she was taking as her son. Even sharing the same roof, there was only so much Estela and Taylor could do for her, that she’d accept from them.

“Just nerves, I guess,” Estela said. “A long time since we’ve had a baby at home.”

Taylor gave a little laugh. “Rosi’s going to be amazing… but we might have gotten a little too used to uninterrupted sleep.”

Then quiet fell between them.

 A smile quirked at Estela’s lips. “I’m not the only one overthinking?”

“Part of me worries…. It’s stupid.” Taylor looked to her wife. You know what I’m going to say, don’t you? “She’s pouring everything into Leonel, almost as if she could erase her own pain by preventing his. I’m scared for her realisation that you can’t protect your child from everything.”

Estela sighed. “Yeah. I’ve thought that too. But, mi amor,” she said calmy, taking Taylor’s hands, “she’s not any different to either of us when we had Livi. You’re gonna want your kid to have everything you wish you’d had. Sometimes, you overcompensate. And sometimes,” she sighed again, heavier, “the things that hurt the people you want to protect are the things you don’t see coming.”

“Yeah…. I see so much of me in her. It’s part of why I connected with her so hard in the beginning; she had no roots, and I could give her that. I could give her that… to a point.”

Estela’s caloused thumb traced along Taylor’s forefinger. “And you learned to live with your own limitations.”

“Of which I have many,” Taylor admitted with a sad laugh. She looked into her lover’s eyes, now lined with deep creases. The earnest tenderness there gave her strength, as it always did. “But Rosa will be better prepared for my own experiences. We’re so lucky we’re still as close as we are. You imagine your kids finding their wings and flying away… but I’m not remotely sorry Rosi’s taking her time with the ‘leaving’ part.”

Estela smiled. “No. I’m not sorry at all either. Poor kid spent too many years with no family; she can make up lost time as long as she wants, and we’ll always give it to her.”

Taylor leaned forward and kissed her wife’s lips, lingering just long enough to bring out a happy little sigh. She could be trepidatious for Rosa-- for all of them-- but her joy was far greater. Their family was perfect in all its scars and stories. Leo, like Rosa before him, would simply add to the tapestry, enriching her life in ways she couldn’t yet know. And Taylor was happy, for her Rosi damn well deserved that.

______________________________

Leonel was as he’d always been; bright, curious, his dark brown eyes following Rosa’s from the moment she came close. It was different this time. How far he’d come since she’d first met him, a newborn all alone in he world; it was just on her last visit with him that she’d heard his first giggle, his black hair was coming in thick, and he was reaching out for things he wanted. Today, he reached for Rosa.

“Come here, darling,” she cooed, and she scooped him up, bringing him to her chest. This time, there wouldn’t be a goodbye; Leo would belong in her arms for good.

“You’re going home, Leonito!” his foster carer, a sunny older woman by name of Elena, announced. She rubbed Rosa on the back, a supportive ‘over to you, now’.

“Oh….” Rosa wiped her face as well as she could while holding her precious baby, her son. “I knew I’d be a crying mess!”

Elena smiled a twinkling-eyed smile. “And so you should be. Today is a beautiful day. You don’t waste a beautiful day not feeling it!”

Rosa couldn’t not feel this. It was everything. It filled her up and left her weeping.

“I’ve got you, bebe… I got you….”

Holy shit… this whole little life was in her hands.

________________________

Rosa’s nerves were unbearable as she stepped forward to knock on the door of the pretty little hut just outside the bustling marketplace. Leonel was his usual easygoing self-- not a grumble out of him the whole journey there-- and as she held him, Rosa found herself wishing she had something of his knack for taking life in his stride. If he had a stride, anyway…. Taking a deep breath, she knocked on the wooden doorframe, and it was barely room for her exhale before the response came.

“Your son!” Homori exclaimed as he threw open his front door and thew open his arms. “I can’t believe it-- and he’s beautiful! I have never… never seen a baby like him-- his hair is so dark already!”

“Oh!” Rosa laughed, her nerves falling away in the face of her dearest friend’s pure exhilaration. He pulled her into the moment and out of her own stormy mind, as was his talent. “Human hair is a bit different to Vaanti; we can be one colour most of our lives, or start dark as a baby and go lighter.”

“I knew you go grey instead of brown, but I guess I’m still learning. I think his dark hair makes Leo look like he’s wise like an old man, and his face is bright and new.”

Homori’s yellow eyes were wide with wonderment as the three of them came through to the cosy sitting room of his hut, and within mere moments, it had filled Rosa with utter delight. His heart on his sleeve as per the norm. It was one of the things she loved about him; there was nothing hidden. When Homori loved, it filled every inch of him and couldn’t be denied. Rosa was shyer, insecure, but not for a second had she doubted what she shared with her starry-eyed young man from Colonnade Cove.

“Would you like to hold him?” she asked. “He’s pretty good with new people.”

“People who look like me, though?”

“Didn’t bat an eyelid when he met Varyyn. Anyway, Leony’s going to be spending a lot of time out here… best he gets accostomed to the fact that some people are blue or green.”

Homori tore his gaze from Leo’s curious one to look Rosa in the face, earnest and hopeful. “A lot of time out here? I’d like that. I know it’s hard… so much of what you love is far away, but there is much you can share with him here. I’d share with him too, if you wanted; even if I can’t be his dad, I will be s-someone who cares for him….”

He trailed off, his voice cracking with emotion. He’d be Homori’s dad. He’d love him, for he loved Rosa, and this was Rosa’s baby who found his way into their world through her kind heart. Baby Leonel was, however, another tie binding Rosa to a place Homori couldn’t belong to, a faraway place he could only know through stories else risk his life and the lives of his people.

A lump formed in Homori’s throat. He nodded. “I’d really love to hold him.”

“Yeah?” Rosa breathed. “Just… just make sure his head doesn’t flop forward. His neck’s getting stronger, but still a bit of help needed.”

She eased the little child into the Vaanti man’s arms, and was pleased but unsurprised when Leo took the transition all in his stride.

“Leonel, my sweet one! I’m so happy to meet you! I am! I am!” Homori cooed, exaggerating his adoring grin as the baby smiled back at him. “Look at that smile-- just like your mama!”

Rosa didn’t want to cry. Homori would feel guilt, and this was her decision, her fault. Several years had passed since their brief summer romance, but they hadn’t managed to keep the flame from rekindling, inconvenient though it was. If not for the pregnancy scare, maybe they’d have stayed caught in in the whirlwind of young love, but the reality was that their worlds were separate. Homori simply could not just waltz into the life Rosa lived in San Trobida, and even after weeks of soul-searching and feeling as though she might drown in her own tears, she knew that there was too much she couldn’t walk away from.

This was the best they could do. Rosa and Homori were in love, and they were honest about it. Their time together was never long enough. Should one find a relationship in the absence of the other, it would be with a blessing already spoken. Rosa didn’t want anyone else. She wanted to teach children-- it was what she’d studied for-- and she wanted to stay near to the family that she’d gleaned so much strength from. She wanted to make San Trobida better for kids like her, and kids like Leonel. The thing was, her heart remained with Homori as well.

They all sat down together, and Homori gently bounced the infant on his knee, all the while talking to him, delighting in each smile brought to the small round face.

When Homori looked back to Rosa, his eyes were sparkling with unwept tears, and he saw the emotion plain in her own. He wouldn’t have her hurt for him-- not on a day as special as this.

“You have everything to be happy about, sweet flower, and everything to be proud of. Look at this boy! He’s growing up loved, and that’s you.”

“Yes,” said Rosa, “I’m happy. I can’t believe he’s here right now; my son, discovering La Huerta for the first time. Meeting you.”

She was quiet for a few moments, then--

“I know what we agreed. I just… don’t see myself feeling this way for someone who isn’t you.”

“Me neither. So maybe… for now… we just accept where and what we are, trusting it won’t be forever.”

Homori dared look hopeful, and Rosa thought how beautiful he was like that, holding her little Leo like he was his own. She couldn’t let this not be what she was heading towards. What she saw there before her was everything she could ever want….

“I’d never ask you to wait for me,” she said, “I stand by that. I’ve just got so much to work out with my life….”

“That’s nothing to apologise for,” Homori said gently, and he clicked his tongue for Leo as he resumed the rolling bouncing of his knee. “You have a lot that you care about. It’s far better than to not care enough!”

Rosa sighed a laugh. “I can’t argue with that. It was kind of inescapable, the family I got adopted into… caring to the point of almost destroying yourself is kind of a Montoya family trait. I’m lucky I have you; you love big and proud... and somehow you’re just so cool about it?”

“Hey, I’m a cool guy!” Homori attempted a hair flip, which he didn’t pull off, but earned a big smile off both Leo and Rosa, so he took it as a win.

She didn’t want to lose this. She could hope no one else ever caught his eye while he waited for her to get a hold of her life, or…. But she was afraid, and words were never her strong point when she was afraid.

Homori’s expression quickly became serious, concerned. He edged closer to her on the sofa, so that baby Leo could happily snuggle against either or both of them, then let the silence be.

“Mo.”

“I hear you, Rosa.” Homori’s voice was smooth and warm… effortlessly comforting.

“I love you.”

Homori’s eyes had filled with tears. “Okay, maybe I’m not that cool….”

“You are to me,” Rosa choked out a laugh. “To me, you’re perfect.”

And Homori put his forehead to Rosa’s, her precious baby boy contentedly cuddled between their bodies.

“I love you too, sweet flower. And now your baby as well!” “The love we have could never steer is wrong-- I really believe that. Maybe it’ll change like it’s done before, but I know it’ll always be there.

Like the love she had for her Leonel. Trust in love came with difficulty, but this… this was impossible to deny. So, she and Leo, and Homori… they were going to be okay.

_______________________________

Rosa sat out on the hill overlooking The Celestial, baby Leonel slumbering in her lap, wearing a homemade onesie gifted from Aleister and Grace’s daughter, Erin, a little bobble hat knitted by his grandma, and swaddled in a blanket passed down from Andi and Sol that Rosa had made for them. The first baby born into the Catalyst extended family in several years, the little guy had enjoyed plenty of attention. It was small wonder he was exhausted, but still he took it all in his stride. Rosa, on the other hand, would be glad when the interest waned. The love was welcome, but it didn’t take much for her to become overwhelmed when it came from all sides.

“You’re a resilient little man, you know that?”

Where possible, she’d make it so he didn’t have to be, but inner strength would serve him well when she could not protect him from life’s challenges. Besides… some of the best things came out of hurt, and loss; her Mama ‘Stel had told her that.  It had been Rosa’s own pain that spurred her to be where she’d been to meet Leo in the first place, and now she was his mother.

She watched the usual beginning-of-reunion frivolities from her secluded spot; it had been the norm for her to retreat here when it all got overwhelming. That was something else she’d gotten from her mothers, for this was ‘their’ hill. Right now, they were in the thick of things, Mama Taylor with young Andi on her knee as they toasted marshmallows, Mama Estela sharing a drink with Jake and Craig. Both Reggie’s wife Mariama and Liv’s spouse Jeimy, Rosa had already quietly noticed, were off the alcohol, adding to her growing suspicion that there might be even more little kids around soon-- Isla was heavily pregnant with twins as well, so Leo would not be the baby of the bunch for long.

Leo breathed heavily in his sleep, completely at peace. Rosa had just been ready to go indoors and get him settled in his crib when he dropped off, and now couldn’t bring herself to risk disturbing him. But the night air was comfortable and slightly cool, and she was quite content to enjoy the feel of him snuggled against her, while taking in the sounds of family. She adjusted her position, bringing him further upright so she could lean down and kiss the top of his little head, his hair so soft to touch. To hold him and kiss him was to have warmth spread through her body, touch her very soul.

What would their future be? Rosa couldn’t see herself not returning to this place. Perhaps, when Leonel was that bit older, and she that bit more settled into motherhood, she’d find a way to balance her life in San Trobida with the home she had and would always have on La Huerta. Before Leo, she’d been on the verge of making that leap… but babies change things.

“We’ll work it out, Leonito, and it’ll be fun. I know you trust me.” She kissed him again. “Love you.”

[sleepysera]

"Whatever is overwhelming, unspeakable, unacceptable, and untransformed by us will be transmitted to the next generation. Whatever we cannot transform, we will transmit. We will transmit it to our children, our grandchildren, our spouses, our friends. We will transmit it through our energy, our words, our bodily reactions, and our thoughts. In daily life, our loved ones and those close to us observe our actions, hear our words, and they can suffer from our thoughts. In fact, they absorb all of it.

Therefore, time alone does not heal; the passage of time can bring more sadness, pain, anger, resentment, and destructive behaviors. Time can amplify trauma, and it can echo over generations in a family, in a community, and in a nation.

To face that abuse, that pain, that sadness is to transform it so that it is not passed on to the next generations. This is transgenerational liberation from trauma."

-Sister Dang Nghiem, Flowers in the Dark: Reclaiming Your Power to Heal from Trauma with Mindfulness (2021)

[rabbitcruiser]

National Day for Truth and Reconciliation

In Canada, over 150,000 First Nations, Métis, and Inuit children were forced to attend residential schools from the 1880s to 1990s. Shortly following the country's founding in 1867, there was an effort to create a Canadian national identity. This meant that the indigenous population would have to assimilate, to the point that their culture would be eradicated. A report released in 1879 said that the only way assimilation could be accomplished would be by taking children from their parents and putting them in residential schools. The report recommended that the government work with Christian churches to open the schools. The Canadian government started funding them in 1883, with the Roman Catholic Church and the Anglican Church being the main organizations running them. The schools did away with indigenous language and culture and replaced them with English and Christianity.

There was resistance from the indigenous population, so, in 1894, the Canadian government made attendance compulsory, and gave the Royal Canadian Mounted Police the authority to take children from reservations and bring them to schools. The schools were underfunded and were rampant with diseases, forced labor, and sexual abuse. Students who spoke in their native language were beaten. When students died, their parents often weren't told about it, and the children were buried in unmarked graves. The 2015 Truth and Reconciliation Commission Report estimated that 6,000 children died while attending the schools.

In the 1950s, the Canadian government started making moves towards shutting down the schools, and they took control of the schools from the churches in 1969. There were still a few schools open in the 1980s, and the last one closed in 1996. The United Church of Canada apologized for its role in the schools in 1986, and the Anglican Church did the same in 1992. Although some Catholic organizations have offered apologies, and Pope Benedict XVI acknowledged the wrongs in 2009, as of 2021, the Catholic Church has not formally apologized.

In 2008, Canadian Prime Minister Stephen Harper apologized for the residential school system on behalf of the Canadian government, and formed the Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada, to get to the bottom of what had happened at the residential schools. The final report came out in 2015 and said that the residential school system inflicted "cultural genocide" against the indigenous population. The report outlined the ramifications of the schools. It found that the schools undermined parents' ability to pass along language, which led to 70% of Canada's indigenous languages being classified as endangered. It found that the residential education was deliberately poor, and led to a poorly educated indigenous population that did not make high income in adulthood, which in turn impacted the education of their children and grandchildren, continuing a deficit of education and income in indigenous communities for generations. It found that the physical and sexual abuse that residential school students experienced led to lifelong trauma, and that trauma and abuse sometimes was passed down to children and grandchildren.

The St. Joseph Mission Residential School was in operation from 1891 to 1981, in Williams Lake, British Columbia. The St. Joseph Mission Residential School Commemoration Project and Reunion organized events that were held in Williams Lake in May of 2013. The events commemorated the residential school experience, witnessed to and honored the journey of healing of the survivors and their families, and were a moment of commitment to the ongoing process of reconciliation. They were attended by former residential school students and their relatives, of the Secwepemc, Tsilhqot'in, St'at'imc, and Southern Dakelh Nations, as well as by others in the Cariboo Regional District.

Phyllis Webstad, an alumnus of the residential schools, was the spokesperson for the reunion group leading up to the May 2013 events. When she was six, her grandmother bought her a new orange shirt to wear to her first day of school. On that day, she was stripped of her clothes and the shirt was taken from her, never to be returned. Throughout her life, the color orange reminded her of the event, but also of how the school stripped her identity from her—as it did with so many other children—and how no one had cared what the feelings of her and other children were. She spent years dealing with the repercussions of her residential schooling. She shared her story at the May 2013 events, and it inspired the creation of Orange Shirt Day, which was first held on September 30th, 2013.

Orange Shirt Day facilitates global conversation on all aspects of residential schools, providing an opportunity to have meaningful discussions about their effects and legacy, which spurs reconciliation. The day reaffirms to survivors and others affected that they matter, and, aptly, the official tagline is "Every Child Matters." Orange Shirt Day reminds Canadians that the cultural experiences of all people are relevant and should be embraced and celebrated. On Orange Shirt Day, Canadians are encouraged to learn more about the residential schools and their assimilation practices. Film screenings, memorial walks, and public lectures are organized, and orange shirts are worn.

September 30th was chosen as the date for Orange Shirt Day because it was around that time of the year when children were taken to residential schools, and also because it is a fitting time of year to set forth anti-racism and anti-bullying policies for the upcoming school year. School districts, local governments, and First Nations near the Cariboo Regional District, as well as some from far away from it, have passed resolutions supporting the day. For example, the Assembly of First Nations Chiefs-in-Council passed a resolution in support of the day.

When the Truth and Reconciliation Commission Report was released in 2015, it called for a National Day for Truth and Reconciliation. In 2018, the Department of Canadian Heritage and Multiculturalism announced that it was considering creating the day as a statutory holiday to honor the legacy of residential schools. September 30th, the date of Orange Shirt Day, was chosen for it, and a bill for the day was introduced to the House of Commons by Georgina Jolibois. It was passed on March 21, 2019, but didn't make it through the Senate before the next election.

On September 29, 2020, during the next parliamentary session, a similar bill was tabled by Steven Guilbeault, Canada's Heritage Minister. On May 27, 2021, the bodies of 215 children were found in an unmarked cemetery on the grounds of the former Kamloops Indian Residential School. The House of Commons agreed to fast-track the bill the following day, and it passed by unanimous consent. The Senate passed it unanimously six days later, and on June 3rd, it received royal assent, and the National Day for Truth and Reconciliation became a federal statutory holiday. It is a paid holiday for federally regulated employees in Canada, and for some private-sector employees. Today, Orange Shirt Day and the National Day for Truth and Reconciliation coincide with each other, grapple with the same history, and have similar goals.

How to Observe Orange Shirt Day

Some ways you could take part in the day include:

Wear an orange shirt. This could spark a conversation about the residential schools.

Learn more about residential schools and their assimilation practices, perhaps by reading a book about the schools.

Check for, organize, or attend events like film screenings, memorial walks, and public lectures. Share your story or listen to the stories of others. Post pictures on social media of events you attend.

Watch Every Child Matters: Reconciliation Through Education.

Read Orange Shirt Day or another book related to Orange Shirt Day.

If you're an educator, explore the Orange Shirt Day teacher resources.

Take part in the Orange Shirt Day Design Contest.

Visit the National Centre for Truth and Reconciliation or explore its website.

Learn about similarities and differences between Canada's residential schools and those that were in the United States.

Join the Orange Shirt Day mailing list.

Donate to the Orange Shirt Society.

Source

National Day of Remembrance for Indian Boarding Schools

Exploring historical approaches to Native American education unveils impactful narratives and perspectives worth remembering.

This important event is recognized in the United States as a vital part of healing and apology for the thousands of families who were impacted by the cruel practice of removing children from their homes that took place in North America for more than 150 years. 

The National Day of Remembrance for Indian Boarding Schools acts as an opportunity to honor the ongoing trauma that these actions brought on, in an effort to bring reconciliation, restoration and healing.

History of National Day of Remembrance for Indian Boarding Schools

This history of this event can be followed back to the early 1800s when caucasian government leaders in North America instituted policies against indigenous families and tribes, forcibly removing thousands of children into residential boarding schools. These schools were meant to train Native children to turn their backs on their traditional ways of life and replace them with mainstream, white, American culture.

Over the course of many decades, around 400 government funded, often church-run, Indian boarding schools were actively working to “educate” tens of thousands of native children away from their families and their familiar way of life. During these years, at least 500 deaths of Native children were reported as they endured rampant and pervasive abuse and neglect.

The National Day of Remembrance for Indian Boarding Schools was established with the purpose of bringing to light the tragedies that were caused by those who abused their authority. In addition, this day is meant to honor the deep and pervasive wounds that were inflicted by demanding that this truth be included in history books as part of the legacy of the United States.

One supporter of this day is the National Native American Boarding School Healing Coalition. This organization advocates by providing access to tools and resources for making changes and resolutions, as well as encouraging all citizens to use their voices proactively through political engagement with their representatives.

In Canada, Orange Shirt Day also known as Truth and Reconciliation Day, has been observed since 2013 and is celebrated at the same time. 

How to Observe National Day of Remembrance for Indian Boarding Schools

Get involved with the National Day of Remembrance for Indian Boarding Schools in a variety of ways, including some of these:

Visit the National Museum of the American Indian

Gain more access and understanding about the plight of Native Americans in boarding schools and other arenas. Take the family to visit the Smithsonian National Museum of the American Indian in Washington DC for an important educational experience. 

Learn More About Indian Boarding Schools

Because the mystery and secrets behind this important part of US history continues to be revealed, it is vital that concerned people make a difference by getting educated on the most recent information. National Day of Remembrance for Indian Boarding Schools acts as a motivation to learn more through research and reading, including books such as Kill the Indian, Save the Man by Ward Churchill (2004) or Education for Extinction by David Wallace Adams (2020).

Source

[professorfcknmoriarty]

tl;dr get therapy, folks. don't let your generational trauma live on through you and definitely don't pass it on to any kids if you choose to have any, without getting help with your family curse. it's not healthy, even if it sometimes seems useful.

I used to sometimes wonder where I got my more feral nature from. my inability to do anything but survive

not thrive, never thrive, only ever survive. like a trapped animal, gnawing off its own leg to break free of the trap. because to give in, to stop and panic and freak out would mean to accept my fate and give into it, give into the blood and the viscera and die like the mongrel I am, like the snarling and desperate beast I've always been

in part because people sometimes ask me, "hey, I didn't even realize you weren't okay." "you seemed fine. you didn't ask for help." "you didn't reach out. you didn't say anything. how was I supposed to know?" things that should cripple someone else, that should cripple me, can't touch me if I didn't stop long enough to let them

I could talk for ages about my sub-par education, my lack of parental and emotional support, my complete lack of preparedness for adulthood - the fact that I spent the first 12 years of my life truly and honestly believing that we lived in the end times and that the end of the world was going to happen before I turned 18, so there was no point in planning for a future on this earth - the fact that I had to learn just about everything for myself, and yet people always commend me on how well I always seem to have it together. how I got kicked out at 18 but still "hit the ground running"

even though I didn't and was homeless for a while. even though every step of the way the only choices were "give up and die or keep going" that's always been the choice. the only choice for things like me

but that's survival mode for you, I guess

it used to piss me off. to see people going through similar stuff as me, the same things as me, and seeing them crumble under the pressure instead of working through it, instead of finding ways to channel it into something else. to see someone break down and become utterly useless and look at me like I'm the crazy one when I can't live in filth, can't accept mediocrity, can't take the time to let the worst happen when there's a little left in my tank that I can use to keep the engine running

I used to wonder if it was just beaten into me. after all, all 5 4 of my siblings and I have that trait

it didn't come from our maternal side. an uncle got so depressed he decided to lie down and not get up again until someone broke down the kitchen window and carted him away with 3 days worth of beard growth, piss, and shit all over his body.

my great-grandmother died out of spite when she didn't get her way because my opa decided to visit his grandchildren instead of her. she said, "if you go to California, you'll never see me again, I'll be dead before you get back." she died three days after he left

but her husband lost his legs in wwi and survived thanks to some surprisingly nice american red cross nurses and lived for decades after with wooden legs

my sister could barely feel pain. she sliced her finger off at work once and didn't notice until her boss started shouting about the blood. (she died of the smoke inhalation, which is ironic as it was one of her cigarettes that started it; I wonder if she even felt the burns?)

I can keep going and take almost any amount of pain before it takes me down. (I grew to love pain as a result. after all, it's a feeling, isn't it, something external, that someone can give me? why wouldn't I love it? masochism for the win, fucker)

they didn't take me to the hospital until my appendix had been slightly ruptured for 6 months, and only because I finally stopped being able to walk or breathe properly from the pain. the doctors sent me home at first because they thought I was faking it when I ranked it as "probably 9 or 9 1/2 out of 10" because the way they figured, a normal 13-year-old would have been red faced and screaming if that were the case. that was the first time I almost died, at least for preventable things. that I know of, anyway

(my appendix had caused two large absesses in my abdomen by then that they had to drain before they could even remove it safely)

I'd never been to a hospital before and I found it exciting. the nurses loved me because I was sweet and friendly and always thanked them and apologized even when they sent the newbies in to practice IVs on my arm and they'd stab and stab and fail to get it right, or when I said it was my fault when the night nurse stepped on the cord three separate occasions and ripped it out of my arm each time. after all, it was probably my fault the cord was in the way, right?

I had almost died but, man, a new experience! people that might like me! ...maybe even someone might look at me and say, "hey you don't look okay, you don't look like everything is alright, should I send your mom away and call -"

no one ever asked. I probably would have panicked and defaulted to the "if cps ever comes around" programming anyway, so it didn't matter

But this weekend, at my sister's funeral, where people talked about all sorts of things but somehow never my sister (thanks for that, dad), I talked enough to my aunt and uncle to realise that yeah, it's a family thing. on the paternal side

what other choice is there though, for things like me, other than to chew through bone and get through it no matter what? It's what we've always done. my father, my aunt, my uncle, my grandparents, their parents before them, and who knows how many generations before that?

[homosexuhauls]

I'm a whole generation away from my mother's adoption, but I still feel its scars. The abandonment, the rejection, the fear, the longing, the loathing. She passed these things down without intending to. How could she not? When she herself was abandoned, rejected, feared and made to fear, longed for and loathed in equal measure. It lives in me, it lives in her other child, it lives in her grandchildren. That one decision by my biological grandmother decades ago, made for reasons only she can ever fully explain, has completely changed our family forever. Our personalities, histories, outcomes, all irrevocably shaped by trauma. Forever. I will never know what my family might have looked like without that decision.

Unlike abortion, adoption does not end or prevent suffering. Adoption outsources suffering, allows more people to be cruel to your child than you could ever have imagined. Abortion is autonomy, allowing a woman to make the best choice for herself, her family, any children she has or will have. Adoption forces a woman to create a child, then relinquish all rights to it, including all emotional ties (as if this were possible). Have a baby, then wonder for the rest of your life if that baby is being trafficked or enslaved or raped, all the while you have no rights to actually find out. How could anyone possibly believe this is less cruel than abortion?

[cora0rr3m]

Noooot to spoil Jonathan’s backstory in the fic (the fanfiction im planning to work on) butttttt (help me i cant stop ranting about Jonathan’s backstory)

(TW: MENTION OF MANIPULATION, AND JUST OVERALL ABUSE, PLEASE READ WITH CAUTION)

I always, ALWAYS think, in a unhealthy degree, about Jonathan and the amounts of emotional gaslighting, manipulation, and abuse he got from his dad. And i strongly agree in the saying that parents shouldn’t use their kids as investments. just because the parents achieved something amazing like being a doctor, or becoming rich, doesn’t mean the child/ren should be forced to do that aswell.

Controlling your child’s dreams and hobbies is abusive, manipulating them to do you think is “”BEST”” for them is abusive, hating them/hurting them because they did not achieve your goals/expectations you had for them is abusive. “Oh but i just want what is best for my child!!” STOP. ACTING. LIKE. THE. VICTIM. HERE 😭😭

You are raising a child who is most likely gonna be a people pleaser, thinking that their worth comes from what they achieve. You’re raising a child who is gonna blame themselves for whatever mistake they make, even the little ones. You’re gonna raise a child who’s gonna cut off contacts with you when they grow old. And if they have children? (because most probably you demanded to have grandchildren). They will past down their trauma to them because of your shitty parenting. Unless you apologize to YOUR child (PERSONALLY), or the child solves their trauma, your shitty parenting techniques will be passed down to generations of your blood line filled with hatred and abuse.

Genuine shout out to the people who grew up with emotionally abusive parents who were like Jonathan’s parents in my fic. Though, Jonathan is just a fictional character, **his backstory is real to some people**, and people go through his trauma with controlling parents aswell.

(Thank you for coming to my TED talk, honestly i could make a ted talk abt my iahb au all day long)

[evilminji]

I think it is VITAL that "pull him away from the machine" involves Bruce just... reaching forward, grabbing the back of Danny's rolls chair, and gently dragging it back. Like, "you're done here, kid. Time to stop. Let's get you a burger." Sort of Concerned but Still Telling You No More Crime type Batman that comes from a place orpf CARING?

And Danny tries to roll forward. Maybe shove the hallucination to get back to work, blinking in Sad And Tired Confused Puppy blinks. Like? This? Clearly NOT their guy. His handler is. THIS is a kid taken advantage off. Time to go, buddy. Work can wait. Let's get you a nap, a burger, and a trustworthy Adult, okay? No more Crime(tm).

And he doesn't WANT a burger? He has Burger trauma, Mr Hallucination Batman. Alright, pizza it is. Or some Thai. Pick your favorite. You can think about on the way to the batmobile. *Nightwing picks him up under the armpits like a small animal and carries him out of his workroom* *he blinks blindly at the late night streetlights* too bright...

Just? This Skungly, sad looking teenager... sitting in some hole in the wall restaurant's booth, blocked in by a softly fussing Nightwing, being fed til he bursts by the owner's mom who is AGHAST at his state. So SKINNY! So pale! Sad and waifish! Eat more food! All the food! Who has done this?! Ooooh she will- *dark and probably violent things that are scandalizing her son and delighting her grandchildren*

Is he in trouble? A bit. But intent matters. And Nightwing is VERY good at getting people to talk. Not hard interrogation tactics, but the subtle soft ones. Friendly and leading prompts. Mindless chatter, in which the Truth slips out. And this kid? Finds the Mad Scientist shtick WAY to normal to be anything but second generation AT LEAST. Legitimately can not tell where the line between normal engineering ends and the Super Sciences begins.

And lawyer worth their tuition will have him in therapy and out with a "don't do it again" by the end of the day.

His HANDLER on the other hand? Knew damn well what he was doing. AND who he was selling too. That guy, they'll throw the book at.

The problem is where are they gonna stash him, that his ex-clients either can't find or can't GET. That will ALSO give him a stable, NORMAL, life. And support his frankly breath taking intelligence.

Bruce calls Lucius Fox.

It is nearly 1am, he WAS asleep next to the love of his life, and this BETTER be good, or so help hi-... You want him to WHAT. He doesn't even HAVE a-... Yes he KNOWS, you know basically everyone at that office and can get the license fast tracked, that not the-... Of course he has space! You think he'd throw a child out on the STREETS?! But that's not the damn-! Bruce don't you DARE hang up on-*click*

#NailedIt

Bruce is going to pay in BLOOD and untold suffering, but Lucius will definitely be taking on Danny as a ward. Now if you'll excuse him... he needs to update his will.

Danny is still very confused. But he's full now. People are being nice. He's choosing to call it a really good dream and pass out. See ya in the morning, nice hallucination peoples. He loves you. Good night. *leans against Nightwing and immediately passes out*

imagine with me Danny ends up in Gotham some how and is a mad scientist that is hired to make cool shit and gets BANK but then the bats crack down on the shit and they see a 13 year old boy with big ass goggles with machinery all around him and looks up for a second before glancing up again as if confirming what he saw and then slowly turns around “Hi…? I swear if these are one of my delusions than I will be complaining to HR- wait am I… HR?”

Danny ends up in Gotham after Nasty Burger happened, but to not become Dark Danny, he buried himself in machine work, using some blueprints from his parents' lab as a baseline and then eventually creating his own.

Some guy in Gotham found him one day and decided that he had a talent for making stuff like this, and that he'll pay Danny handsomely if he made some things for him, and, well. Danny was pretty low on money from his parents' bank account after blowing most of it on machine parts.

So he accepted.

Then the guy started requesting some other things for some other people and he eventually became his middleman for the big hitters in Gotham who wanted his stuff. Well, not that he knew his stuff was being given out to the big hitters that also include villains, since he spent most of his time just building, then eating, then passing right the fuck out, and repeat.

Then the bats crack down on him, and Danny's been making some shit for more than 24 hours already with no rest time and just a little snack here and there, and then he questions if he accidently inhaled something he wasn't supposed to because the bats are literally in his workshop/house.

So he thinks he maybe high as shit right now and then just treats them like they weren't there and goes back to making his thing because that one guy said a person with a fuck ton of money wanted it. Then Batman pulls him away from the machine and he's like: "Huh."

Still thinking this is a massive hallucination because he's high as a kite, he tries to get Batman to let go, but his grip is pretty strong, then he pokes him and then goes: "Oh, maybe this isn't a hallucination."

"Oh sugar honey iced tea."

[de-temple]

Can the legacy of trauma be passed down the generations?

[makademakwa]

Like I have friends who are taking it much slower so I have no issue with longer term family planning but it is crazy to me that whites have gotten so far away from their old way of living that 20 is seen as too young for children. I own property. I have a good paying job. I have a good credit score. I don't drink. I have health insurance. I have a beautiful wife. Literally what more could I want? What would I be waiting for? Some more wrinkles? My guardians are 73 and 63 now, her great-grandparents, would I wait until after they pass so she never learns from her elders? No! That's ridiculous! And, I will likely live to see my great-great-grandchildren! Is that not wonderful?? I'll have 10-20 years with them! I'll live to see eight generations! Four above and four below! And as I keep learning and teaching they will one day see an anishinaabeg without trauma passing from father to son!

[christopher-doyle-institute]

Healing Generational Wounds: Inner Child Work in Family Therapy

Family therapy has long been recognized as a powerful tool for addressing intergenerational patterns and healing deep-seated wounds within familial relationships. One approach gaining traction in the field is inner child work, which focuses on exploring and addressing unresolved childhood issues that continue to impact individuals well into adulthood. This article delves into the significance of inner child work in family therapy and how it is a transformative tool for healing generational wounds.

Understanding Generational Wounds

Generational wounds are emotional or psychological traumas passed down from generation to generation, often unconsciously. These wounds can manifest in various ways, such as dysfunctional communication patterns, unresolved conflicts, and maladaptive coping mechanisms.

At the core of many generational wounds lies unhealed childhood trauma. These experiences, whether they be neglect, abuse, or abandonment, can leave deep scars on individuals that reverberate through subsequent generations if left unaddressed. Inner child work seeks to uncover and heal these wounds, allowing individuals and families to break free from destructive cycles and create healthier, more fulfilling relationships.

Exploring the Inner Child

The inner child refers to the part of ourselves that retains our childhood memories, emotions, and experiences. Past traumas often wound this inner child and carry unresolved pain and fear into adulthood.

In family therapy, inner child work involves tapping into these buried emotions and exploring the impact of childhood experiences on present-day thoughts, feelings, and behaviors. By reconnecting with the inner child and offering it compassion and understanding, individuals can heal old wounds and reclaim their sense of self.

Healing Through Reparenting

One of the central components of inner child work is the process of reparenting. Reparenting involves:

Providing the inner child with the love.

Nurturing.

Support that may have been lacking during childhood.

In family therapy, therapists guide individuals through exercises and techniques designed to nurture the inner child and provide it with the care and validation it needs to heal. This process can be profoundly healing, allowing individuals to rewrite their past narratives and create a new, more empowering story for themselves and future generations.

Breaking Generational Cycles

One of the most potent aspects of inner child work is its ability to break generational cycles of trauma and dysfunction. By healing their inner child, individuals can prevent the transmission of unresolved issues to their children and grandchildren.

In family therapy, this process often involves exploring family dynamics and identifying recurring behavior patterns passed down through generations. By bringing awareness to these patterns and addressing the underlying wounds, families can create a new legacy of healing and resilience for future generations.

Rebuilding Family Bonds

Inner child work not only facilitates individual healing but also strengthens familial bonds. As individuals heal their inner child and resolve past traumas, they become better equipped to show up authentically in their relationships with family members.

Through open communication, empathy, and vulnerability, family members can begin to repair fractured relationships and rebuild trust and connection. This renewed sense of closeness and understanding lays the foundation for healthier, more harmonious family dynamics.

Embracing Emotional Expression

Central to the process of inner child work is the validation and expression of emotions. In many families, emotions may have been suppressed or dismissed, leading to a disconnect from one's true feelings.

In family therapy, individuals are encouraged to express their emotions openly and without judgment. By creating a safe space for emotional expression, therapists help individuals and families reconnect with their authentic selves and cultivate greater emotional intelligence and resilience.

Embracing Healing and Transformation

Inner child work offers a powerful pathway to healing generational wounds and creating lasting family change. By exploring and addressing unresolved childhood trauma, individuals can break free from destructive patterns and build healthier, more fulfilling relationships with themselves and their loved ones.

In family therapy, inner child work catalyzes transformation, allowing families to heal past hurts, build resilience, and forge deeper connections. Through compassion, understanding, and a commitment to growth, families can embark on a journey of healing that transcends generations, creating a legacy of love, strength, and healing for years to come.

[voxiiferous]

if (vox & niffty) had a kid...?

Niffty and Vincent meet in late 1942, at the dance halls he frequents all through the war. They're friends: laughing, drinking, smoking together. The war is going on, what feels like just outside their doors some days, and everyone is sort of subtly aware that the men coming back from the front aren't coming back the same, some of them have European wives, and some have eyes that belie darker traumas underneath.

They sleep together in 1943, partially because he's curious if he really does only only men, and well, one things turns to another and suddenly she's pregnant! He marries her, because that's the proper thing to do. While he might not love her like that, he doesn't want to ruin her reputation either. He cares about her, and does, legitimately, love his children even if he's not always certain how to raise them. It's a good thing that Niffty can cook, and clean because he can't.

He still dies in 1955, his wife within the same few years, and the children move from New York to Pennsylvania in the inverse of what Vincent did, to be raised by their grandmother.

Name: Rosalie Price

Gender: female

General Appearance: Like her brother, Rosalie looks quite a lot like Vincent, especially in her colouring, though a lot of her actual features are from her mother! Her grandmother dotes on her, and Rosalie is often dressed quite a lot like Niffty.

Personality: Rosalie has done a lot, across decades. During the war, she was an outspoken protestor (it didn't help that her brother was fighting), she was in university for math/biology/physics/computer science for two years before dropping out. She pursues acting for a brief stint. She ends up in culinary school, and realizes she has a soft spot for patisseries. She moves around a lot, especially after Eugene's death, and while a touch indecisive, she's got a good head on her shoulders, and no shortage of stories to tell!

Special Talents: Rosalie does inherit Vincent's mind for the sciences, just not his drive and dedication in the same way, though a lot of the logic applies well to her baking, and she's especially good at coming up wit new recipes.

Who they like better: Vincent

Who they take after more: Vincent

Personal Head canon: Rosalie outlives the rest of her family by years. She's not dead yet, though she is, as a result of being almost 80, slowing down! She has children, and grandchildren she passes her family's names onto, and while she doesn't settle in New York, the city her father loved so much, she still comes back to an urban setting, though she finds herself far more comfortable in Paris.

Face Claim: Emily Browning

Name: Eugene Price

Gender: male

General Appearance: Eugene, like Rosalie, physically take most after Vincent. He has the same hair, same mouth, same eyes, same complexion. His grandmother always says how much he looks like Vincent did when he was young, though he’s a little sharper.

Personality: Eugene is everything Vincent isn’t. He’s brash where his father is reserved, brave and foolhardy where Vincent was cautious. As a child he always had a split or bruised knees from scrapes and falls, or the occasional school yard fight, wherein usually, he was defending someone else. The sort of person, that, had he been born a few decades earlier, would have earned a commendation in World War 2, and that made him a poorer fit for Vietnam.

Special Talents: Eugene, whilst more like his mother, does take after Vox in his dancing, even if instead of swing it's things like The Twist, Watusi, and Mashed Potato!

Who they like better: Niffty

Who they take after more: Niffty

Personal Head canon: Eugene is a legitimately good man, but he ends up in Hell because he was a soldier, and whether you do it for country or for self, murder’s still a sin that sees you damned. He died pulling the wounded back towards the far lines for treatment. Vox doesn’t know his son’s in Hell, Eugene doesn’t realize who his father is. He's not sure if his sister is down here, in Heaven or still on Earth, but he's eked out a bit of a living down here.

Face Claim: Kit Butler

[wovetherapy]

Unraveling the Threads of Intergenerational Trauma: Understanding the Signs and Symptoms

Trauma can be an intricate web that spans generations, leaving an indelible mark on the lives of individuals and families. Research suggests that a person’s current response to trauma may be rooted in past experiences they were not present for initially. This experience is known as intergenerational trauma, which refers to the transfer of psychological and emotional wounds from one generation to the next. While it may not be visible on the surface, the effects of this trauma can be profound.

How Intergenerational Trauma is Passed Down

Trauma can be transmitted in many ways –from genetics to living conditions. Over the years, many experts have tried to pinpoint the exact way trauma is passed down. The term intergenerational trauma was first introduced by psychiatrist Vivian Rakoff in his 1966 paper on children of Holocaust survivors. Some experts in the medical community attributed intergenerational trauma to the stress of living with a traumatized person who was still reliving horrific events. Others attributed intergenerational trauma to children becoming “containers” for their parents’ unwanted pain (Boland, 2022).

In the 1990s, researchers began to look at the biological mechanisms of intergenerational trauma via epigenetics, the study of how behaviors and environment cause changes that affect our genes. A 2018 review suggests that children may be influenced by exposure to parental trauma that occurred before they were born and even prior to their conception (Boland, 2022).

Ultimately, research suggests that trauma can be passed down in various ways, including:

DNA modifications

in utero

memory

cultural messages and conditioning

cultural patterns

cumulative emotional wounding

dominant family narratives

normalization of hatred, cruelty, and dehumanization toward others

parents ignoring or not coping with their trauma

aggressions and micro-aggressions (Boland, 2022)

For example, a great-grandmother who was placed in a concentration camp in Germany may have learned to cope with adversity by "cutting off" her emotions. Because of this, she may interact with her family in an emotionally distant manner (Duke, n.d). Growing up with this behavior modeled to them, the children of this great-grandmother may also interact with their families in an emotionally distant way. The transmission of this historical trauma may begin to negatively affect the great-grandmother’s descendants down to her great-grandchildren and beyond, leading to generations of emotional distance, defensive behaviors around expression of emotions, and denial (Duke, n.d.). We all inherit pain to some degree, and when that pain is not coped with, it gets passed down (Boland, 2022).

Who Can Experience Intergenerational Trauma?

While anyone can experience intergenerational trauma, people from marginalized groups, such as People of Color, may have more pronounced experiences with this phenomenon. Those who are descendants of people who have experienced violence from living in war zones and other hardships — such as World War II, effects of the Cold War, the Vietnam War, or conflicts in the Middle East — may also be more likely to experience intergenerational trauma (Boland, 2022).

Intergenerational trauma is a complex phenomenon, and it is important to understand its impact on the lives of individuals, communities, and families. Below are some signs of intergenerational trauma and how it can impact individuals, especially within BIPOC and other marginalized communities.

1. Unexplained Anxiety, Depression, and Emotional Dysregulation:

Those affected by intergenerational trauma might experience symptoms similar to post- traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), including hypervigilance, anxiety, and mood dysregulation. However, because the individual did not directly experience the trauma, they will not experience flashbacks or intrusive memories, which is more common in PTSD. Instead, they may experience trauma symptoms and responses from events that did not occur to them; rather, the response is inherited genetically (Marschall, 2022).

Individuals who have experienced trauma in their family history may find themselves overwhelmed by emotions, even in seemingly ordinary situations. These feelings can stem from inherited coping mechanisms and an innate sense of hypervigilance passed down through generations. As a result, individuals impacted by intergenerational trauma may experience anxiety, depression, suicidal ideation, shame, low self-esteem, intrusive thoughts, difficulty in regulating aggression, and extreme reactivity to stress (Boland, 2022).

2. Chronic Health Issues:

Intergenerational trauma can manifest itself not only in mental health but also in physical health conditions. Studies suggest that trauma experienced by ancestors may contribute to an increased risk of developing chronic illnesses, such as heart disease, diabetes, and autoimmune disorders. The medical community consistently discusses how Black Americans have a higher likelihood of chronic diseases and cancer, often with the solution including a better diet and accompanying exercise. Movement and healthy eating habits are undoubtedly helpful for everyone, and barriers to accessing tools for wellness are also highlighted within these studies and conversations. However, the direct connection between intergenerational trauma, which is often exacerbated by the chronic stress of discrimination, and these health conditions often goes unnamed (Boland, 2022).

The connection between intergenerational trauma and chronic health conditions was highlighted in a 1997 study. The study demonstrated the connection between descendants of those affected by Japanese American internment camps and cardiovascular disease. More recent findings on disparities of COVID-19 contraction within Black and Indigenous communities also demonstrate this connection (Boland, 2022). While genetics play a role, the impact of intergenerational trauma on one’s overall well-being should not be overlooked.

3. Substance Abuse and Addictive Behaviors:

Engaging in substance abuse or addictive behaviors is another possible outcome of intergenerational trauma. Individuals may turn to drugs, alcohol, or other addictive substances to self-medicate to numb emotional pain (Raypole, 2022). The patterns of substance abuse can be passed down through generations, perpetuating a cycle that requires intervention to break.

4. Relationship and Attachment Issues:

Intergenerational trauma can significantly impact one’s ability to form and maintain healthy relationships (Boland, 2022). Individuals may struggle to connect with others and establish trust, intimacy, and vulnerability, fearing that they will experience the same pain and betrayal suffered by their ancestors. These challenges can manifest as difficulties with emotional expression, fear of abandonment, or patterns of abusive behavior (Raypole, 2022).

5. Cultural and Identity Conflicts:

The repercussions of intergenerational trauma can extend beyond individual experiences and permeate cultural and collective identities. Communities and groups that have experienced historical trauma may grapple with a deep-rooted sense of loss, discrimination, and marginalization. As a result, cultural identity conflicts can arise, leading individuals to question their heritage, struggle with a sense of belonging, or navigate conflicting narratives.

Healing From Intergenerational Trauma

After learning about intergenerational trauma, you may be left wondering how to prevent the cycle from continuing. Thankfully, there are many ways to address and heal from trauma and prevent it from being passed down to future generations. Acknowledging the signs and symptoms is an important place to start. Once you can name and accept these experiences, you can begin to address them (Raypole, 2022). It is important to seek help from a mental health professional. A trauma-informed therapist can help you begin to heal by listening to your experiences, sharing insight into trauma responses, and offering guidance for identifying possible coping skills and sources of support (Raypole, 2022).

Certain types of therapy that are effective for addressing trauma may show promise for those with intergenerational trauma (Boland, 2022), such as:

Psychoanalysis

Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing (EMDR).

Somatic therapy

Internal family systems (IFS)

Prolonged exposure therapy (PE)

Cognitive processing therapy (CPT)

Intergenerational trauma is a complex phenomenon that can cast a long shadow over the lives of individuals and families. Recognizing the symptoms and understanding their roots is essential to healing and breaking the cycle. By seeking support, engaging in therapy, and fostering resilience, individuals and families can begin to untangle the threads of trauma and pave the way for a brighter, more hopeful future.

If you’re interested in scheduling an appointment or you’d like more information, please contact us.

[rabbitcruiser]

National Day for Truth and Reconciliation

In Canada, over 150,000 First Nations, Métis, and Inuit children were forced to attend residential schools from the 1880s to 1990s. Shortly following the country's founding in 1867, there was an effort to create a Canadian national identity. This meant that the indigenous population would have to assimilate, to the point that their culture would be eradicated. A report released in 1879 said that the only way assimilation could be accomplished would be by taking children from their parents and putting them in residential schools. The report recommended that the government work with Christian churches to open the schools. The Canadian government started funding them in 1883, with the Roman Catholic Church and the Anglican Church being the main organizations running them. The schools did away with indigenous language and culture and replaced them with English and Christianity.

There was resistance from the indigenous population, so, in 1894, the Canadian government made attendance compulsory, and gave the Royal Canadian Mounted Police the authority to take children from reservations and bring them to schools. The schools were underfunded and were rampant with diseases, forced labor, and sexual abuse. Students who spoke in their native language were beaten. When students died, their parents often weren't told about it, and the children were buried in unmarked graves. The 2015 Truth and Reconciliation Commission Report estimated that 6,000 children died while attending the schools.

In the 1950s, the Canadian government started making moves towards shutting down the schools, and they took control of the schools from the churches in 1969. There were still a few schools open in the 1980s, and the last one closed in 1996. The United Church of Canada apologized for its role in the schools in 1986, and the Anglican Church did the same in 1992. Although some Catholic organizations have offered apologies, and Pope Benedict XVI acknowledged the wrongs in 2009, as of 2021, the Catholic Church has not formally apologized.

In 2008, Canadian Prime Minister Stephen Harper apologized for the residential school system on behalf of the Canadian government, and formed the Truth and Reconciliation Commission of Canada, to get to the bottom of what had happened at the residential schools. The final report came out in 2015 and said that the residential school system inflicted "cultural genocide" against the indigenous population. The report outlined the ramifications of the schools. It found that the schools undermined parents' ability to pass along language, which led to 70% of Canada's indigenous languages being classified as endangered. It found that the residential education was deliberately poor, and led to a poorly educated indigenous population that did not make high income in adulthood, which in turn impacted the education of their children and grandchildren, continuing a deficit of education and income in indigenous communities for generations. It found that the physical and sexual abuse that residential school students experienced led to lifelong trauma, and that trauma and abuse sometimes was passed down to children and grandchildren.

The St. Joseph Mission Residential School was in operation from 1891 to 1981, in Williams Lake, British Columbia. The St. Joseph Mission Residential School Commemoration Project and Reunion organized events that were held in Williams Lake in May of 2013. The events commemorated the residential school experience, witnessed to and honored the journey of healing of the survivors and their families, and were a moment of commitment to the ongoing process of reconciliation. They were attended by former residential school students and their relatives, of the Secwepemc, Tsilhqot'in, St'at'imc, and Southern Dakelh Nations, as well as by others in the Cariboo Regional District.

Phyllis Webstad, an alumnus of the residential schools, was the spokesperson for the reunion group leading up to the May 2013 events. When she was six, her grandmother bought her a new orange shirt to wear to her first day of school. On that day, she was stripped of her clothes and the shirt was taken from her, never to be returned. Throughout her life, the color orange reminded her of the event, but also of how the school stripped her identity from her—as it did with so many other children—and how no one had cared what the feelings of her and other children were. She spent years dealing with the repercussions of her residential schooling. She shared her story at the May 2013 events, and it inspired the creation of Orange Shirt Day, which was first held on September 30th, 2013.

Orange Shirt Day facilitates global conversation on all aspects of residential schools, providing an opportunity to have meaningful discussions about their effects and legacy, which spurs reconciliation. The day reaffirms to survivors and others affected that they matter, and, aptly, the official tagline is "Every Child Matters." Orange Shirt Day reminds Canadians that the cultural experiences of all people are relevant and should be embraced and celebrated. On Orange Shirt Day, Canadians are encouraged to learn more about the residential schools and their assimilation practices. Film screenings, memorial walks, and public lectures are organized, and orange shirts are worn.

September 30th was chosen as the date for Orange Shirt Day because it was around that time of the year when children were taken to residential schools, and also because it is a fitting time of year to set forth anti-racism and anti-bullying policies for the upcoming school year. School districts, local governments, and First Nations near the Cariboo Regional District, as well as some from far away from it, have passed resolutions supporting the day. For example, the Assembly of First Nations Chiefs-in-Council passed a resolution in support of the day.

When the Truth and Reconciliation Commission Report was released in 2015, it called for a National Day for Truth and Reconciliation. In 2018, the Department of Canadian Heritage and Multiculturalism announced that it was considering creating the day as a statutory holiday to honor the legacy of residential schools. September 30th, the date of Orange Shirt Day, was chosen for it, and a bill for the day was introduced to the House of Commons by Georgina Jolibois. It was passed on March 21, 2019, but didn't make it through the Senate before the next election.

On September 29, 2020, during the next parliamentary session, a similar bill was tabled by Steven Guilbeault, Canada's Heritage Minister. On May 27, 2021, the bodies of 215 children were found in an unmarked cemetery on the grounds of the former Kamloops Indian Residential School. The House of Commons agreed to fast-track the bill the following day, and it passed by unanimous consent. The Senate passed it unanimously six days later, and on June 3rd, it received royal assent, and the National Day for Truth and Reconciliation became a federal statutory holiday. It is a paid holiday for federally regulated employees in Canada, and for some private-sector employees. Today, Orange Shirt Day and the National Day for Truth and Reconciliation coincide with each other, grapple with the same history, and have similar goals.

How to Observe Orange Shirt Day

Some ways you could take part in the day include:

Wear an orange shirt. This could spark a conversation about the residential schools.

Learn more about residential schools and their assimilation practices, perhaps by reading a book about the schools.

Check for, organize, or attend events like film screenings, memorial walks, and public lectures. Share your story or listen to the stories of others. Post pictures on social media of events you attend.

Watch Every Child Matters: Reconciliation Through Education.

Read Orange Shirt Day or another book related to Orange Shirt Day.

If you're an educator, explore the Orange Shirt Day teacher resources.

Take part in the Orange Shirt Day Design Contest.

Visit the National Centre for Truth and Reconciliation or explore its website.

Learn about similarities and differences between Canada's residential schools and those that were in the United States.

Join the Orange Shirt Day mailing list.

Donate to the Orange Shirt Society.

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[niharikaslernings]

Today's learning,29/04/23

I am back with another learning of today. Let me give you the exact details of the scenario that happened and the learning I learnt from that incident:-

It was a incident of evening. So, at evening I was feeling like to eat something. I step out of my house and found something tasty to eat. I found golgappewala. Like, many other girls, I love goIgappa too. I ate total twenty of golgappe which satisfied my hungriness. They were tasty, soft, delicious. The person who is serving is also a sweet ordinary person. My sister and mother also ate from the same golgappewala. I enjoyed today's evening. But when I came back at home. My mother said "no doubt, it was very tasty. But who knows, of what caste he belonged to? ". After listening this, my father started giving lecture on caste. All those boring stuffs like " We brahmin are the superior of every caste". And started telling me so many myths about lower caste that "they don't behave properly, they lack sincerity" and crummy things. He said " make golgappa at home, don't eat it from outside Because they are of lower caste. And lower caste people don't care about sanitation, neat & cleanliess . They don't wash their hands before serving golgappa. This will lead to diseases". Yes, he was right that most of the golgappewala don't care about sanitation but he was targeting lower caste was vividly wrong. But that's not his fault. Let me tell you why my parents believe on something like this. I want to share a story of my mother here. Once upon a time, in her childhood she made a friend who was of lower caste. She invited her at her home. Gave some food to her. Meanwhile, her grandmother (who was no more in this world) saw that lower caste girl at her home. She start scolding my mother very badly, she rebuked at that girl too. She throw the utensils out of house in which she had eaten. And she made my mother bath from head to toe, because she believe that, that girl is unholy. My mother was so young at that time. After that she accepted that there is a huge difference between lower and upper caste. This perception is not her, it was given my her grandmother. But as an individual now she believes, that it's her perception. In our parents period, there is nothing like smartphone. So, on that time you don't have any medium to know what's right, what's wrong. On that time, only  teachers and parents are the source of understanding anything. Thus, because of not sufficient data the society made them believe so. And after becoming an individual they start believing that it's their perception. But it is a perception of very old people. This discrimination had passed from generation to generation. The most important thing, I want to say here is don't waste your time in making your parents believe that we all are same. Because a person cannot leave his/her moral values. Means no matter how much you will try to explain your parents but because they are grown in that type of society or environment where people differentiate between lower caste and upper caste. They will not understand. Thus, never try to argue with Indian parents. Leave them whatever they believe. Now, everything is in your hand. If you will pass it forward this keep continuing. Learning:- Now, we know the reality and this is the time to stop this discrimination. Don't let yourself pass it to your grandchildrens. I want this to end here. Don't let lower caste suffer anymore. They had already suffered lots of trauma. Please, stop this. Spread awareness against this wild aspect of society. We all are same, we all have same body(heart, kidney, liver, lungs, brain). There is no difference made  by nature in us but we made it by forming societies. We are Hindus, We are muslims, We are Brahmins, We are superior and you are inferior. Stop this shit.