Notes on lives shaped by violence and silence
The connective tissue of trauma. 765 Words | 3 mins 3 sec read time
When tragedies happen, I'm always struck by how the world continues to turn.
There is still morning news on TV. People drive to and from important and unimportant places. Dogs need to go out. Kids have school, and we're supposed to show up as functional and effective humans at work.
Somehow, I've been able to keep my world spinning during times of trauma and tragedy, too. I can even get caught up in my own work and forget the impact of tragedy on others.
Just this week, I was so engrossed in my world that I momentarily disconnected from the collective pain of the attacks in Israel and Palestine. I reached out to a friend to talk about my book without even considering the emotional chaos she may be experiencing due to these distressing events.
It was a stark reminder: we're all floating in our personal bubbles. Even me. Someone who understands what it feels like to have your feelings and emotions ignored after a traumatic event. I never thought I would be so insensitive. Then I go and text my friend about my book.
Proving once again that I am human, aka a basic bitch, too. Great at some things. Average at most, and below average at some things, too. (For context, See In Support Of Basic Bitches.)
Still, even when I am able to function, there is a low hum in the background of my heart that lets me know that the world is on fire, even if that fire is on the other side of the world.
I feel present and not of the world. I drop things like the glass that shattered as I emptied the dishwasher this week. I feel the pull to fall inward. Tears rim my eyes that can break free at any moment.
When the Trayvon Martin verdict was announced, I misjudged the size of the parking lot entrance because of my tears and damaged the passenger side door of my car. Again, I am present and not of the world.
That’s how I feel this week. The bombings, murders, kidnappings. The images of parents holding their dead children. And dead babies. The fear that every citizen in Palestine and Israel must be feeling.
I want them to be safe. I want this violence to end. But my desires have no effect on the outcome. All I can do is feel the trauma with them, and I feel it.
Trauma is connective tissue. Its strings reach and pull at the souls of all of us who know what it's like to feel unsafe and vulnerable to the whims of people, governments, police, and soldiers who hate us for the color of our skin, religion, sex, or sexual orientation.
I know that feeling all too well. My heart breaks because so many others across the world feel it, too.
On Whose At Fault
There are many opinions on the root cause of the attacks this week. There seems to be an effort in our Western mainstream media to separate the attacks in Israel from the history of the conflict between Israel and Palestine.
This makes me think back to my writings on nuance from a couple of weeks ago. You can’t boil the history of this region down to a headline or a sound bite. You can talk about the attacks this week without talking about the region’s past.
That’s like trying to talk about George Floyd without explaining our history of discrimination and police brutality here.
Context matters. If you want to tell the truth, you have to share the full story.
On Oppression’s Role
Recently, I was listening to Black Cake, a book about a Caribbean family’s journey from the ‘60s to the present day, and this quote stuck with me, “we don’t realize how many lives are shaped by violence and silence.”
Oppression, the unjust or cruel exercise of authority or power in favor of the oppressor over the oppressed, is that violence. It’s a never-ending loop of pain and suffering in the lives of ordinary people like you and me.
Still, we do not have to contribute to the silence noted in that quote. We can raise our voices and support causes that matter. Always remembering that people are not their governments or regimes. They are not terrorist groups. They are humans who just want to live this life happily in peace.
To support the people of Israel and Palestine with that goal, I’ve donated to the Alliance For Middle East Peace. Consider supporting organizations that work to create a bridge of peace, too.
In power and solidarity,
Toya