If you are a racialized person, I invite you to take deep and full belly breaths while reading the following, as it might bring up memories and feelings of grief, anger, tension, and discomfort.
Be ever so kind to your body.
Before exploring racial trauma, we must unpack the phenomenon of trauma first. Trauma is the aftermath of an injury, and not so much the injury itself. Whether or not we consciously recognize it, trauma is the recurring and self-protective response we have to past harm, whether physical harm from an accident or the hurt we carry from relationships that weren’t good for us.
Racial trauma, on the other hand, carries a greater and more particular sting because of its systemic nature. Racial trauma exists because of structural racism. The trauma I have, as a racialized person, exists because of how society and systems perceive and classify who I am, how I look, and who my people are. It does not occur because racialized people have done anything wrong, are inadequate or broken, or are misreading their experiences. Instead, racial trauma is a result of the harms caused not only by social behaviors but by unjust systems, making it permissible—and at times even legal—to degrade and violate us.
Racial trauma is a result of the prison industrial complex’s disproportionate targeting, incarceration, and killing of Black communities, and of the ways many People of Color are singled out by the violent rise of ICE raids. Racial trauma is also the burdensome accumulation of interactions and experiences—no matter how brief—in which racialized people are stereotyped, reduced to oversimplified categories, or forced to assimilate to White dominant culture in order to survive.
Many of us do not have the luxury of moving through the world without considering whether behaving, speaking, dressing, or living authentically might result in ridicule, discrimination, or racial microaggressions.
Racial trauma can result in depression, hopelessness, isolation, disrupted sleep cycles, increased hypervigilance, physiological struggles, and other conditions. Due to the frequent exposure and re-exposure to race-based stress and danger experienced at personal, collective, and vicarious levels due to the political system, how could these not be the effects?
Psychological modalities and self-care practices can help us cope, but are incomplete when the sources of our wounds are embedded in law, institutions, and the status quo. Telling someone with racial trauma that “it’s going to be okay” won’t be as helpful. As long as the conditions that produce the harm remain, the body has every good reason to stay alert.
While it can feel overwhelming and despairing to examine the structural and historical roots of racial trauma, it remains crucial to practice coping techniques in order to live as meaningfully and fully as we can as racialized people. I trust that we can step into our power and live consciously together, to the point that we are not overcome by racial trauma.
Recognize the systemic reality of the source of incessant stress and pain. Even though it sounds simple, removing any false notion that the suffering comes from anything inside of you can do wonders for your perception of yourself. You are not broken. You are not to blame for the struggles you endure. You are a miracle to have survived this much and this long.
Co-regulation is key. In the West, hyper-individualism is often the norm in finding solutions to our ailments and problems. But in this journey of healing, it is important to be in community. Co-regulation can mean finding the trusted loved ones in your life who can believe you in your experiences, share your burdens, and help you process and attune to your emotions. This could mean finding mental health support that you find alignment with. In recent years, there has been a rise of professionals, clinicians, and healing communities who have integrated decolonization and sociopolitical awareness into their respective practices and treatments. Even though therapeutic interventions won’t be the only source of healing and fulfillment in our lives—no single intervention should be—it is helpful to have a practitioner to witness and accompany you through your journey. Remember to trust yourself in doing the research and trusting your gut in finding a therapist to work with. You know your story and your body the most. You are trustworthy.
The impacts of racism and colonialism occurred at physical, mental, spiritual, and societal levels, so it is important to consider a holistic approach in healing. For me, a formative part of my healing journey was to look back at my ancestral roots, including the community practices and spiritual traditions that were erased or degraded by colonialism. I have also taken considerable time reading the works of authors and poets of color, where I can feel belonging in their specific stories. These are literary and spiritual affirmations of our self-dignity, which structural racism aims to stifle and suppress. These sacred expressions and symbols of our innate and immovable worth help us further in our healing journeys.
Participate in efforts that address and dismantle systemic racism at a local level. As psychotherapist and professor Travis Heath once shared, “We can’t self-care our way out of systems [of oppression].” While it is imperative to recognize the need to self-soothe our physiological and mental responses to stress, we also need to get to the root of the problem, which is systemic. Where are the groups in your town that collectively explore and practice accountability processes outside of law enforcement? Can you participate in neighborhood watches? Would you consider supporting solidarity communities and mutual aid efforts?
Even in the moments when it feels like racism is too entrenched and prevalent to dismantle, I often remember the numerous ways in which life has become a bit more doable and dignifying even in the undeniable reality of systemic oppression. There is still a multitude of work to do and undo, but just as many visions of a more humane future seemed impossible at a certain point in the past, so can we build towards a safer, more liberated and dignifying world.
Gabes is a mental health counselor, grassroots organizer, and writer who works with climate and human rights defenders across the world. In her research and praxis, she seeks to expand our practices and imaginations of community and ecological healing from decolonial perspectives and multispecies justice.
She is also a singer-songwriter, a voracious reader, a freediver, and a lover of banyan trees and marine life.
Black, Latine, Asian, Pacific Islander, Native, and Indigenous people experience similar rates of mental health challenges as white individuals, yet people of color access treatment and support at half the rate. This is due to a significant gap in treatment caused by systemic racism, lack of equitable healthcare, and absence of cultural competency due to the fact that approximately 86% of psychologists are white, amongst other issues across our society.
In recognition of the unique struggles faced by BIPOC communities, we have compiled a list of mental health resources focused on supporting these experiences here.