My Family’s Legacy of Racialized Violence
I want to share something that I don’t often talk about… my family’s legacy of racialized violence.
The reality is that my ancestors enslaved other humans and exploited them for free labor. I know that my family, for at least a few (but likely more!) generations were slaveholders in Virginia.
My ancestors are directly responsible for significant violence and harm against Black folks and very likely Indigenous folks as well. They are directly responsible for parts of this country’s violent past.
And all of that lives in me.
I believe that ancestral trauma is inherited— through our DNA but also through culture and norms. I was literally born to believe that I was dominant, powerful, and better than others. It is in me as much as it is my socialization and ideologies.
It doesn’t make me proud to say all of this, but it’s also true. And avoiding the truth for our own comfort is how we got here, so I’m not trying to be about that.
But naming and acknowledging this part of my history is only as powerful as what I choose to do with it. Because what I know for sure is that I have inherited trauma. A lineage of folks who got their sense of self, sense of power, and sense of worthiness (let alone how they got their wealth and material possessions!) at the expense of the dehumanization of others. And we can’t dehumanize someone else without stripping away our own humanity. My lineage needs healing. I need healing. And engaging in that healing is the only way to break the cycle and free my children from carrying the same trauma.
None of this is my fault. Just as it’s not my fault that I internalized patriarchy and homophobia. Just as it’s not your fault for how you were socialized and what you inherited. But it is our responsibility. And it is also our greatest opportunity!
Because we can only all get free when we all get fucking free and start healing the trauma.
I do not consent to participate in furthering my family’s legacy of racialized violence. It stops with me. And I don’t always know exactly how to do that, but I am committed to figuring it out day by day.
We cannot heal our ancestral roots with shame, guilt, or judgment. We cannot heal our ancestral trauma by distancing ourselves from our ancestors. We can only heal the legacy when we see it with radical honesty, full humanity, and deep connectedness. How am I just like my ancestors? How can I see their humanity? To find compassionate accountability?
When I look around and see the seemingly endless conversations (shouting matches?) about CRT and whether or not we should teach racism and the history of racialized violence in our country, I think back to when I was a kid. When I learned that my family enslaved Black people. When I learned who and what I come from.
Was it easy to hear as a kid? Nope, it sure wasn't. But I am so freaking glad that my parents saw me as deserving enough to know the truth. They saw me as a worthwhile investment in hard conversations. They knew I’d be better for it! I am grateful that my Dad knew that I was brave enough to learn about and understand our history without letting it untangle my self-concept. That he could support me in learning the truth while also knowing that I didn’t need to be ashamed of what my ancestors did. Children deserve to be invested in by telling them the damn truth. White children deserve to know who they come from and what lives in them. Black and Indigenous children deserve to know what their ancestors have had to survive, they deserve to know who they were before colonization and who they are in spite of it.
Our children are capable of receiving the truth.
I am not personally responsible for what my ancestors did. But I am responsible for understanding it so that I can be damn sure that I don’t do the same thing. To be sure that it never happens again!
I believe that part of what lives in my body as a result of my whiteness is a sense of entitlement to comfort. That my body is accustomed to feeling comfortable, it expects it. So when I am confronted with this deep discomfort and truth, it is disorienting. It can come as a shock to my body, so my body will try to avoid this sensation as if it might actually kill me. But with the right tools and compassion, this process can actually be deeply healing. It can be a cracking open and not a traumatic experience.
Our histories can be painful and scary to learn about.
They can make us doubt who we know ourselves to be.
To have to grapple with the beliefs that we have of our families and traditions.
But accepting the truth and seeking a deeper understanding will only ever bring us closer to ourselves. And it is essential for healing that we (as a nation and individually!) face these painful truths, name them, and take full responsibility for ensuring that it stops with us.
