“When we liberate ourselves, we liberate others as well because we break the bonds, the chains, that keep us tied to relationships based in domination. So how are we gunna break the chain if we ignore that it’s even there?” -Joelle Depiton, Creator of Mirrored Love I heard the term “Trauma” for the first time as a graduate student at the University at Buffalo School of Social Work. According to the program’s department, we were to assume that everyone had experienced trauma at some point in their lives regardless of the severity. I myself am a Childhood Trauma Survivor (or CTS) and like many other CTSs, I navigated the world and the environments I entered on autopilot. My ability to achieve a college education, see my name in numerous publications, and remain alive despite some of the decisions I now deemed an example of untreated mental and emotional trauma spoke of my determination to persevere. I carried that torch during my days as a street activist, a public speaker. Onto my radio show The Bonfire Talks on which I discussed White supremacy and its venom passionately. White friends saw an intellectual freedom fighter advocating for justice and peace to those who were “othered”, my subconscious mind screamed out the muted suffering of my Inner Child. The memories of my own childhood struggled to seize my attention, practically waving their hands in front of my eyes. Yet I steered clear because the consequences of even peeking around the corner of my traumatic past was something that would interfere with the political legacy I called myself endeavoring to build. I discovered through hardship (much of it self-inflicted) that that is not how life works for a CTS with unaddressed pain.
The undercurrent of rage and depression earned from an abuse history I did not ask for, this suspicion that yet another perpetrator’s scheme to assault me, normally stood in the way of my ambitions. There were times when my Complex PTSD symptoms were so severe I feared leaving my house. And years of relying upon coping mechanisms with the potential to kill me only complicated matters. It wasn’t until I allowed myself to receive support that I discovered why I felt so disjointed: I was subconsciously reenacting the trauma I experienced as a child. The raw emotions I suppressed always emerged through my interactions with others. Indescribable trauma stories living within my subconscious mind convinced me that everyone was a potential threat to my safety and that the best “alternative” was voluntary separation from the communities of which I was a part. Between that and the selfloathing, it became obvious that I was acting as my own oppressor. And as I continue my own healing journey, I’m learning that, in order for me to live as my authentic self with complete abandon, I must dismantle and eliminate from my subconscious mind the stories written by generational and historical trauma. In fact, all CTSs are to individually address their internalized generational and historical trauma to end their selfoppression. In “Why Are Queer People So Mean to Each Other,” Kai Cheng Thom explains that constant exposure to trauma has an impact on the brain and nervous system, eventually resulting in survivors perceiving almost everything and everyone as a potential threat. While the brain and nervous system responds accordingly to our
