The Tapestry
I don’t think that my g/g grandmother was the first one to stop herself from speaking up but she’s the one that I seem to be linked to. The three generations between us I’m certain had their fair share of silencing but from my vantage point, all the women in my family were strong and didn’t take no mess. It wasn’t until many of them passed that I learned how they altered their lives for their loved ones, for their community. I’m not sure what hopes and dreams my great grandmother, grandmother or great aunts had but I can say that they did a lot with the lives that they had.
As a child I remember feeling as though I was living my life backwards. That I was experiencing all the pain, sadness and hardship in the beginning so that I could live out he joy and greatness towards the end. This was confirmed by a cousin who said that at a young age he would often find me staring off like I was deep in thought. I wasn’t sure why but I knew that my life had a heaviness to it. Sure I experienced trauma at a young age but I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t able to just move on and being happy like the other kids. I tried to fake it at the very least. But that never worked.
When you are born into this life carrying the pain of not only past lives but generational hurt you don’t know what you’re holding. I’ve read many articles, listened to many podcasts and joined friendly conversations about healing generational pain/trauma, but no one talks about how exceptionally hard that is. Especially when you aren’t able to talk to the previous generations who endured some serious trails by fire. That’s not to say that they would engage me in conversation anyway. My grandmother never spoke about her life as far as I knew. And she certainly wasn’t going to divulge any information to her grandchild.
I would’ve loved to know how my grandmother endured heartache after heartache. How she weaved together joy, pain, anger, loneliness, and beauty into a tapestry of art work that would get passed down to me. I know I have their resilience as well. The women in my family, though silent in their struggles, made something beautiful. I never got to see my g/g grandmother but I got to be raised up around my great aunts. The sisters of my grandmother each held a special magic that created a symphony of light, power and passion when put together. I remember family reunions and admiring the smiles, laughter and even enthusiastic shoulder bounces and hip sways when we would dance the electric slide. These women were (and still are) magic to me.
The picture of my g/g grandmother sits on my counter with a picture of my great grandmother and biological mother who have all passed. At times I look at her picture and stare at her solemn face as she sits on a couch looking back at me with dead eyes that seem to want to say so much but stop short of letting out any words. I feel the pull of my ancestors calling me. Now that I’ve done this ritual I’m not sure what else will come. Maybe this will be an opportunity to connect with other ancestors that I haven’t had a chance to connect with before. I do know that part of my healing work with my g/g grandmother is telling my story. I’m in a weird space right now. God is setting me apart, keeping me safe as I come to YHWH seeking sustenance day after day. I know these posts may sound all over the place and that’s cause I kinda feel all over the place. But if you stick around you’re gonna get to see me blossom and shine. It’s time for me to be seen.