#racial trauma

[bookquotesfrombooks]

“One common (and often overlooked) trauma response is what I called trauma ghosting. This is the body’s recurrent or pervasive sense that danger is just around the corner, or that something terrible is going to happen at any moment.”

Resmaa Menakem

My Grandmother’s Hands

[system-of-a-feather]

Honestly I think people on here really greatly under acknowledge and recognize the large impact / large trauma that comes from intergenerational trauma from colonization, systemic racism, and not-white America centered trauma. And I know that likely has to do with how massively white tumblr dot com is, but it really isn't until I was around my writing partner that has known me for more than half my life and talking with another peer with Chinese-Indonesian background did it really occur to me how intensely pervasive intergenerational trauma due to US involvement in SE Asia is and how it plays / impacts my life.

A lot of non-America centered trauma and abuse really doesn't fall into any of the real common ways people talk about abuse, neglect and trauma because a lot of that sort of trauma is way more complex and nuanced because a lot of the nature of HOW / WHY that abuse, neglect and trauma occurred is inherently tied a lot more into a history of community / collective trauma and abuse and the ways the individuals from those areas 1) had to survive and 2) the resources that they had available to work with and 3) the inability / difficulty for individuals who are transmitting that intergenerational trauma to realize that they are not in that situation anymore and thus not unintentionally recreate the environment / mindset / trauma for the kids going on

And I'm saying "inability / difficulty" in this case because while I agree that the rhetoric of "it doesn't matter if an abuser has trauma, they could have not continued it" is true in most cases, in my experience especially with my own intergenerational trauma, some people have systemically been stripped of basically any real resources or aid or opportunity or space to really "stop the cycle of abuse" and even at their obvious BEST attempts, they still end up in a position where they systemically really can't prevent it from passing on

It was a joke - a very real joke, but that is something I appreciate with my close friends because it reminds me to check my anxieties against reality - that I "act like I still am in Indonesia" (which for the record, I have never been in Indonesia, I'm the only one in my family that hasn't because I wasn't born when they were there) as a call back to when I was commentating on the complex and dynamic financial situation my family had growing up to which my friend told me "Yeah, but it doesn't matter if you had money or not if your dad constantly lived like he was still in Indonesia" which like... 100% true

And its honestly a really fucking hard thing to work through and overcome. Factually, ON MY OWN - ie not including my fiance who is ALSO in a similar situation on his own, I am financially pretty well off. Every month I make good savings and I have a pretty fat cushion in case things go bad, and so I very much CAN afford to buy myself a $6 fidget toy, but spending that $6 feels like fucking death itself a lot of the time.

I honestly don't know if I'll ever feel as if my financial situation is anything other than broke, not because of income or anything, but just because the factual amount of money I make isn't what controls if I feel financially comfortable / well off or not. I could probably have a half million in the bank and still be sweating about spending $6 on a fidget toy.

And honestly, I was watching 90 day fiance with my friends when I was traveling, and one of the dynamics (for those that know Ashley and Manuel) REALLY made it apparent how disconnected multi-generational Americans can be towards immigrant / immigrant families that have had to come to America for a chance at a better life. It's an experience - a trauma that a lot of people who are not an immigrant themselves or a first generation American to wrap their head around and fathom.

And honestly, I wish there was more talk about it. I wish there were more people with that history talking about it.

(I 'lowkey' start venting under here so Imma put it under the cut since it detracts somewhat from the point but its also worth stating)

I wish there were more people openly discussing how absolutely fucked it is that the US gets to come into countries, INTENTIONALLY fuck it up as a CONFIRMED and ADMITTED method to 'instill democracy / capitalism', and then the same people that from the same country that the US fucked over - for PURE survival - have to immigrate for a chance of living a life that is anything other than rough and a constant struggle.

Some people really wonder why it is that our system has such a foul taste in our mouth for America, I know some people think that because before fusing, >I< wondered why XIV was so deeply and intensely bitter about all things American, and I absolutely get it.

Indonesia was literally intentionally and systemically fucked over by the US Military. That fucking over resulting in immense trauma to my dad that not only immensely translated to me, but also made him EXTREMELY subservient in a "keep your head down, lick the boots of the most powerful person, and enjoy living under the boot of those in power because its the only way to have peace" which is something we - specifically XIV in the past - had internalized deeply which is why were were pretty far down the right wing path and why - when XIV looked at it closer and immediately saw past it - flipped to hard Anti-America values. Because its FUCKED that the US gets to come and ruin a country and then have the victims come and having the same victims "thankfully" licking the boots of the US for giving them a "better life".

Its honestly awful and literally no one talks about it and I know its not just Indonesia that has this. Its the fucking US's modus operandi and its fucking awful.

The US is a place you can come "to get a better life" largely because they fucking ruined most of the other places ability to have a good life.

[avoidantrecovery]

dr.k explains how in cptsd we go from:

emotional dyregulation -> dissociating -> emotional disconnect -> loss of sense of identity/unstable identity

i really recommend listening to the whole thing on youtube, esp. because he's also showing diagrams and drawing stuff. but this part was so enlightening for me that i had to clip it and post it here.

for the longest time i always wondered why i felt like a robot, empty or like a shadow. my sense of (long term) memory feels all messed up and i can barely remember stuff etc... and this explains the mechanism behind that. we're not "just losers" 😃, there are things (maladaptive, but still) happening in our bodies because it's trying to keep us alive and safe.

sense of identity = emotional experiences + emotional experiences +emotional experiences + ...

without those experiences (that tell us who we are), or without the ability to tap into them due to dissociation, we start to feel like we're not living but just existing.

"we are so emotionally dysregulated, that we do not lay down a foundation of who we are."

[askgildaseniors]

Santana Dempsey offers a highly personal and sad childhood story, emphasizing the terrible reality of racial persecution. Santana first faced prejudice when he was eight years old while attending a pool party with friends. She recalls going inside to use the restroom and overhearing one of her friends' mother and grandma call her a racist slur. Even though Santana didn't completely understand the meaning of the slur at the time, she knew it was something offensive and directed at her. This encounter left her with a strong sense of alienation and humiliation, which influenced her perspective of herself and her identity.

The emotional impact of this occurrence demonstrates the negative consequences of being exposed to racism at such a young age. Santana's tale demonstrates how situations like this compel youngsters to confront difficult facts about how society perceives them. In her instance, she had to balance the joy of playing with friends with the hard reality of being criticized and alienated because of her ethnicity. Such traumas can leave profound emotional scars that affect a person's self-esteem and perception of their place.

What distinguishes Santana's experience is the generational aspect of the bigotry she encountered. The fact that her friend's mother and grandmother casually used racist words in front of her demonstrates how damaging views are carried down through generations. This form of casual racism, especially when normalized inside a familial system, may be extremely harmful to people on the receiving end, perpetuating feelings of otherness and reinforcing negative preconceptions.

Santana's story compellingly reminds us of the ongoing need for racial justice and reconciliation. Her tale relates to the larger social issue of racism, particularly in infancy when experiences of exclusion can have long-term consequences for identity and belonging. This recollection serves as a powerful reminder of how deeply rooted racism is and the significance of actively fighting to eradicate it, beginning with education and awareness.

[unwelcome-ozian]

What are you researching today?

Performative shooting exercises do not predict real-world racial bias in police officers.

Research abuses against people of colour and other vulnerable groups in early psychedelic research

A call to use psychology for anti-racist jury selection.

A clinical scale for the assessment of racial trauma.

Source

Oz

[degenderates]

Imani Perry, South to America

[snapnarcissisticabuserecovery]

[ramyeongif]

racial trauma

[girltalkcollectives]

When Did You First Learn Your Skin Color Was 'Different'? I was 5.

TW: racism, childhood trauma

You never forget your first time. Not your first kiss, or your first day of school, but your first experience with racism. Mine happened between juice boxes and monkey bars.

I was five years old, rocking my favorite yellow sundress and butterfly hair clips, excited for my first day of summer camp. Mom had braided my hair the night before, and I felt like the prettiest girl in the world. You know that pure, untainted confidence only little kids have? That was me that morning.

It didn't last past snack time.

The Scene:

Picture this: A sunny playground in mid-July. Kids running around playing tag. The smell of sunscreen and fruit punch in the air. Normal summer camp things. I'd just finished my apple juice and was ready to join a group of girls playing "princesses" in the corner of the playground.

What happened next is seared into my memory with the kind of clarity that only trauma brings:

"You can't play with us." "Why not?" "Because you're black. No black people allowed!"

They started running around the playground, turning it into a chant: "No black people allowed! No black people allowed!"

Just like that, my yellow sundress didn't feel so pretty anymore.

The "Explanation":

The counselors, bless their well-meaning hearts, tried to handle it. They put the other girls in time-out and gave them the standard "we don't exclude people" talk. Then one of them sat down with me, probably seeing my confusion and hurt, and tried to explain:

"It's like if you're wearing a green shirt and they don't like the color green…"

That's right. They compared my skin color – my identity, my heritage, my entire existence – to a shirt you can just change.

My Mother's Rage:

When my mom picked me up and heard about the "green shirt" explanation, I learned what righteous fury looked like. I remember her face changing, her grip on the steering wheel tightening.

"Baby, let me explain something to you," she said, turning to face me fully. "Your skin is not a shirt you can take off. It's not something you can change, and it's not something you should want to change. It's beautiful, it's who you are, and anyone who can't see that is the one with the problem."

Then she marched right back into that camp office.

The Adults Let Us Down:

Looking back now, I'm struck by how many adults failed that day:

The counselors who oversimplified racism to a shirt color

The parents who raised kids who already knew how to be racist at 5

The camp administration who probably thought time-out solved racism

The Things You Remember:

It's wild what sticks with you from moments like these:

The pattern of my yellow sundress (butterflies and flowers)

The taste of apple juice turning sour in my mouth

The sound of their sing-song voices: "No black people allowed!"

The hot shame of standing alone

The way my butterfly clips suddenly felt heavy

The confusion of not understanding what I'd done wrong

The Lessons Learned Too Early:

At five years old, I learned:

My skin color could make me an outsider

Some people would hate me without knowing me

Adults don't always know how to help

Racism isn't always hood-wearing obvious

Sometimes it comes with pigtails and juice boxes

What Nobody Tells You:

The first cut of racism might come from children, but the wound is deepened by the adults who don't know how to handle it. Well-meaning white counselors comparing fundamental identity to clothing choices. Authority figures who think time-out can cure generational prejudice.

To My Five-Year-Old Self:

Sweet girl in the yellow sundress:

It was never about you

Your skin is not a shirt

Your beauty is not debatable

Their racism was not your burden to bear

You deserved better

You were perfect exactly as you were

To Parents and Educators:

Don't compare immutable characteristics to clothing

Don't oversimplify racism to make yourself comfortable

Don't pretend time-out solves systemic issues

Do have real conversations about race

Do validate children's experiences

Do call racism what it is

The Reality:

First memories should be about:

Making friends

Learning to swim

Playing games

Summer fun

Being a kid

Not learning that your skin color makes you "different."

Moving Forward:

That day changed me, as first encounters with racism always do. But my mother's response taught me something more powerful: to stand tall, to know my worth, and to never let anyone make me feel less than because of my skin.

To the little Black girls at summer camp: You are beautiful, you belong, and it's not your job to make others comfortable with your existence.

And to my fellow Black women who remember their "first time" all too well – I see you, I feel you, and I hope you're healing too.

[samballesbian]

"The most damaging legacy of the West has been its power to decide who our enemies are, turning us not only against our own people, but turning me against myself."

Minor Feelings: An Asian American Reckoning

[bookquotesfrombooks]

“Most of us think of trauma as something that occurs in an individual body, like a toothache or a broken arm. But trauma also routinely spreads between bodies, like a contagious disease.”

Resmaa Menakem

My Grandmother’s Hands

[system-of-a-feather]

Just gonna slide this here taken from "addressing racial trauma in behavioral health" course I'm taking for my work because this absolutely does not apply to the Theory of Structural Dissociation what so ever

[avoidantrecovery]

“The rejecting responses of our parents to our emotional expression alienate us from our feelings. Emotional abuse/neglect scares us out of our own emotions while simultaneously making us terrified of other people's feelings.“

— Pete Walker, Complex PTSD From Surviving to Thriving

(Note: Remove "parents" and replace it with "peers" and this would still make sense imo. One thing I noticed is that a lot of psychology books focus on the relationship between child and parents, but rarely ever branch out to consider what being abused by peers can do to a developing child.)

[altosys]

A vent from my transracial wasian/probably-other-stuff-too ass. (TW: Mentions of RAMCOA and semi-blatant racism)

Oh boy, the feeling of losing a friend you had for four years for nearly the same exact reason your god-awful sperm donor wanted to convince you into white supremacy ideologies and to try and [redacted] you! How lovely! /sarc /v

Like, can people listen to me for ONE GODDAMN SECOND when I say "I don't mean transracial as in RCTA, I mean transracial as in I don't fucking know where my grandparents are from and I do not have access to that information unless I go and break the restraining order I have on my RAMCOA perpetrator and I do not want to have this conversation with people that only wish to harass me, plus I'd like to keep my childhood trauma shared with only people I trust, thank you very much"

It's disappointing how much I have to explain yes, my mother is a white bitch, however my wASIAN ass is not made of all of her genetics. Honestly I think that because of this, us mixed folks should create our own space. Also a space for the people who don't know about their heritage and only have glimpses, especially if it was stripped away from them. We need a safe space too. <3

[ecclecticmx]

Anti-blackness is a huge trigger for me and I am noticing myself get set-off when I see it more online. So I am returning to my old blog theme of posting what I like for me sans as much topical stuff.

Like... It is very traumatizing to grow up with such a feeling of perceived love as a child, and then as you become aware of the world around you, you begin to recognize the "conditions" of that love. That your family loves you the way they want to, not the way a child needs them to.

When you develop your place in the world as a mixed race kid there comes this like... Liminal thinking? Everywhere you go, so do the conditions of that supposed unconditional love. You're either a trophy or an embarrassment, and it's entirely up to you to regulate your internal perception of yourself. That you're neither of those things. You're human.

Non-black and black people alike treat you like you're supposed to "solve the racial divide." (an actual question my uncle asked me) and if you can't do that you're just an eye sore OR a token they pull out of their back pocket as some kind of "I'm not racist" gotcha.

And then, every time someone you trust microagresses you, gotta process all that shit all over again. I have methods of processing and coping. I'm just frustrated.

Naturally, I get way more grace and understanding from the Nigerians in my family, but there is still the colorism anxiety they have and it makes me extremely uncomfortable to be praised as "prettier" or the flip side, us kids being taught to ostracize the each other based off skin-tone or the stupid shit I had to navigate in public high-school after being pulled out of a fucking culty christian homeschooling situation.

Argh ok. Mental health vent over.