Written by Dondre Stokes, Edited by Renaldo McKenzie
This blog was written and submitted by Dondre Stokes as part of a series leading towards a book project dealing with Mental Health and Generational Curse/Trauma. This is Mr. Stokes first blog and article, and he will be a regular contributor to The NeoLiberal. This blog post will also be the feature of a segment on Mental Health on The Neoliberal Round Podcast.
If there’s one thing about pain that I’ve learned, it is that it tends to spread itself like a wildfire, burning more fiercely as fuel is gathered. Once a family tree begins to burn, if the flames aren’t halted the cinders will drift off to ignite another. And within these branches, these twigs that’ll easily become firewood, are our individual lives. Personally, I believe that my life’s been very hard. I’ve certainly made plenty of my own mistakes, at no fault of anyone else but me. And yet, there’s plenty I could blame my parents for. Their ignorance, lack of flexibility, and failure to admit their own mistakes.
My Mother, for example, was a very stubborn woman. She’s stuck to her own beliefs and ideals despite the holes in them. No matter what she’d just patch them up and carry on without even considering my many objections. It is only when she came to her own realizations that she began to change and adapt. Rather than telling her that she was wrong about things or presenting alternative arguments like I’d done for a lifetime (about 20 years), our turning point came when I was roughly 24 years old, when I explained to her in full detail how her actions as a parent made me feel. For her, feelings were powerful, and it was like finally speaking in a language that we could both understand. For the first time, she admitted to being wrong about several things and apologized to me. I’d been acknowledged, I’d finally been heard. The validation I felt after years of frustration was palpable, and at last I began to let go of long-held grudges. Unfortunately, as I’d learn in more detail, she has not yet been afforded the same luxury.
You see, a lot of families are similar, in the fact that despite your differences with your parents and their decisions, they’re probably not half as bad as their parents. They have flaws, sure, and some of those flaws have probably hurt you more than they comprehend. But that flexibility in thinking, the modern knowledge gained from changing times and the prevalence of the internet, the understanding of just how much feelings matter, these things are luxuries they had that your grandparents didn’t. Obviously, these luxuries aren’t really luxuries by today’s standards. They’re necessities. But necessities change as the seasons do, and as one era ends, another begins with new challenges and requirements for living good lives. What is standard and non-negotiable in child-rearing now was hardly an afterthought two generations ago.
My teenage African-American grandparents living in 1969 were no strangers to adversity and hardships. Both seeking escape from abusive and broken homes themselves, they found love and solace in each other despite the objections of their parents and started a family together, no doubt determined to do things differently, the right way. The rules were different back then, the internet was nonexistent, survival was all that mattered, and the White man was an ever-present threat to that survival, constantly lurking and more than willing to prey on an unwary black traveler. It wasn’t about being happy, it was about mouths to feed and discipline to be instilled. Opportunities were scarce, but danger was plentiful. How you feel as a child isn’t important, however, you will listen to me and heed my instructions. In return, I’ll feed you, clothe you and protect you as best I can. You may hate me and think of me as a monster, but there are bigger monsters out there that will devour you if you’re not careful. That was the mindset and the mantra of many black families of that era.
My grandparents, despite their dreams and best intentions, struggled under the weight of their adversities. The danger and unfairness of the times, the challenges of raising children when they were arguably still children themselves, and the pains of falling out of love with each other over time were all a lot, I can scarcely imagine how hard it must’ve been. Having to mature a lot in a short amount of time, and also not having the time of really getting to know each other and maturing their relationship before children took its toll. My Mother and her two older brothers felt the effects of this deeply. Imagine growing up not only under a harsh discipline with physical and verbal abuse, and also a lack of displays of affection, hardly a word of love. Then on top of that you’re smack dab in the middle of a constant lover’s quarrel, parents separating and getting back together, seeing sides of your parents that you shouldn’t be exposed to. My grandparents who didn’t know any better carried their pains into parenthood and never properly dealt with them, with age came a maturity and a softening but by then the flames had spread. And they’d never admit to being wrong, as far as they’re concerned you should be grateful you didn’t grow up like they did.
My mother was also determined to be different and raise her kids in a loving home. By the time I was born in 1994, a new age had already come about. The internet gave us access to so much information from so many places, and perspectives were broadening. Racism hadn’t gone anywhere, but it was no longer a boogeyman free to snatch our children as it pleased, many had laid down their lives to give us a fighting chance and opportunities for not just survival, but happiness and fulfillment as well. Therapy was a thing, and mental health was being considered, but still not as a priority just yet. As a result, my Mother boldly walked through the fires at her feet, carrying my younger brothers and I on her back. Although the burns were severe, she treated them as needed and did not stop to address the painful flames until much later. She was as strict as she felt she needed to be, but embraced her softer side and showered us with love when she could. She took note of our interests, and encouraged us to read and soak up knowledge and educational programming. The deeper generational issues weren’t fully addressed, but the improvements and change for the better began with her. She wasn’t perfect and couldn’t fathom taking advice from a kid like me, but she did better and paid much more attention to the emotional needs of her children than those who came before her.
For my father, I fear he was nearly completely charred from his chaotic upbringing by the time he even met my mother, and when he burned out, the house we shared together burned down with him. I believe he never recovered, and never properly addressed his traumas, and as a result, he lost his family and we essentially lost our father. Young men raised by single mothers, you know what it is. Having to figure out so much on your own, meeting more resistance from your mother than you feel you deserve, the constant friction and being put in the position of being a father-figure to your younger siblings without a choice orany of the actual authority. It sucks. By the time I got to college, I was being consumed by my own painful flames and didn’t last long there. But I endured, and in an effort to finally put out those fires burning me from the roots I did a lot of soul-searching and research. The results were positive, and although things didn’t change overnight, I can say now at 27 that my branch is no longer burning. If I have children, I won’t pass the pain of 3 generations onto them. They’ll be fighting the flames of Modern America’s emotional wildfires instead, fully equipped with flame-resistant gear and powerful fire extinguishing hoses.
If you’re hurting, take a deep look at your life, the things that have happened and how you interpret them. If that leads to blame for your parents, take a deep look at their lives and upbringing if possible. Understand how they’ve been hurting. You may be surprised at what you learn and the revelations that come with it. The process may make you very vulnerable and make you feel more exposed to pain temporarily, but what you gain from it will be worth it. I believe we live in a world full of unresolved generational trauma, people grow up never dealing with it and they spread the fire to their neighbors, coworkers, complete strangers, and most importantly, their own children. If you can imagine people walking around literally on fire and oblivious to it, spreading the flames everywhere to anyone that passes by,, whole communities on fire, and the image scares you, it should. But we know live in an age where mental health knowledge is readily available, as are resources for healing and therapy. I don’t wanna sound like Smokey the Bear or anything, but only you can prevent forest fires. That shit’s realer than most of us realize. We have an obligation to learn, and an obligation to heal. We know more now about how our minds and our emotions work in tandem than ever before, and how it can affect us. People in control of their emotions as well as their minds are strong and capable of overcoming almost anything, imagine if all of us had that strength and pooled it together. It’d probably be as close to utopia as we’d get. For now though, I’ll settle for raising awareness and encouraging others to heal and spread better energy.
This is the first blog in a series by Dondre Stokes. You May reply to this post by submitting an email to the editor at [email protected] or the writer at [email protected]
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