“Pride is you. It is me.”

Pride is important for so many reasons. We celebrate our community, achievements, and growth. Pride is about honoring those around you for the beauty they possess. The beauty you possess. The remarkable victories and the ability to be proud of the skin that was perfectly crafted to wear despite how many rips and tears the world may make you think you have. I think it's fair to say that the journey of self acceptance is a long one. To feel comfortable and confident regardless of if someone else denies the belonging we rightfully know we have. This month is about honoring your place. Holding your head high and celebrating the victory of existing out loud.

I can acknowledge the moments that I felt ashamed to step in my truth out of fear that I would be viewed as too different. Not only am I a black woman but also identify as a member of the LGBTQIA+ community? The 12 year old girl living inside of me who was once afraid to exist in honesty, would be so proud of the version of me that grew from my trauma enough to allow me to experience the beauty of my truth. This month, I honor resiliency. The victory of being able to scream I am enough. The courage to scream from the mountain tops for the countless people who have yet to find their voice to scream for themselves. The ability to stand in the spotlight while also cheering from the sidelines in honor of those before, during, and after me. This month, I acknowledge the power in thriving even if that exists only in the comfort of your spirit or loudly through the colors we wear boldly in celebrating the unique experience that is pride. This month, I denounce the hate and criticism for people just being who they were designed to be. I celebrate the victory of honestly, courage, and acceptance.

If you are reading this as someone who is wondering when their time will come to feel confident and comfortable in their truth, know that you don't have to tell the world who you are to acknowledge your perfectly crafted design. It's okay to take your time. You write your own rules. What is pride? Pride is you. It is me. We are pride and that is enough. 

Written by Anteria Wynn, CADC. If you are interested in learning more about Anteria and her work, click here.

When Mother's Day hurts

Mother’s Day. A day painted in pastels and floral fragrances, a day whispered with words of love and gratitude. But what about those for whom this day is not a celebration, but a reminder of heartache? For those whose mothers have passed away, whose relationships are strained or non-existent, Mother’s Day can feel like stumbling through a thickest fog of grief and longing.

The ache of loss is a relentless companion for those who have lost their mothers. It's a pang that lingers in the hollows of your chest, a dull throb that echoes with each passing year. On Mother’s Day, the absence of her laughter, her warmth, her comforting embrace, can weigh heavier than the weight of the world itself. The memories, once cherished, now cut like shards of glass, leaving behind jagged edges of sorrow.

For others, Mother’s Day is a stark reminder of the fractured relationships that have left them estranged from their mothers. The silence of unspoken words, the ache of unanswered questions, the gaping hole where a bond should have been—it's a pain that burrows deep into the soul, leaving scars that never fully heal. To see others celebrating their relationships with their mothers can feel like salt rubbed into raw wounds, a cruel twist of fate that amplifies the loneliness and longing.

And then there are those who never had a mother to celebrate, whose lives have been devoid of the nurturing presence that should have been their birthright. For them, Mother’s Day serves as a painful reminder of what could have been, a bittersweet fantasy of a love they've never known. The ache of emptiness, of longing for a mother's love that was never given, can be suffocating in its intensity.

As someone who has traversed the tumultuous terrain of grief, I understand all too well the weight that Mother’s Day can carry. For me, Mother’s Day is a bittersweet melody, a symphony of memories intertwined with longing and sorrow. The absence of my great-grandmother, my pillar of strength and wisdom, leaves a void that cannot be filled. Her laughter, her gentle touch, her unwavering love—these are the fragments of her essence that I cling to, even as the years pass by.

In the wake of her passing, I've found solace in the simple rituals that connect me to her spirit. I indulge in her favorite snacks, savoring each morsel as if it were imbued with her essence. I lose myself in the shows she found humor and joy in, the familiar melodies of laughter echoing through the empty spaces she left behind. And in the kitchen, I find sanctuary in recreating the dishes she lovingly prepared, each bite a testament to the love that still binds us together across the chasm of time and space. Amidst the storm of emotions, I’m learning to navigate the choppy waters with compassion and grace. Here are some tips that I have used to help me hold space for the difficult feelings to find moments of healing in the chaos of Mother’s Day:

1. Acknowledge the Pain: Allow yourself to sit with the pain, to feel it fully without judgment or shame. Recognize that it's okay to grieve, to mourn, to feel the weight of your emotions. I've experienced moments of overwhelming sadness, where tears flow freely and without warning. They come in waves, triggered by a song on the radio, a photograph tucked away in a drawer, or a fleeting memory that catches me off guard. In those moments, I allow myself to surrender to the grief, to feel its weight pressing down on my chest, knowing that each tear is a testament to the love that I carry in my heart.

2. Create Your Own Rituals: Find ways to honor and remember your mother or the mother figure you wish you had. Light a candle in her memory, write her a letter, or spend time engaging in activities that remind you of her.

3. Reach Out for Support: Lean on friends, family, or a therapist for support during this time. Sharing your feelings with others who understand can provide a sense of comfort and validation. Shout out to my therapist! She didn't just listen with her ears; she listened with her heart. She had a remarkable ability to hear the unexpressed, to witness the ignored, and to hold space for the full spectrum of my emotions without judgment or reservation.

4. Practice Self-Compassion: Be gentle with yourself. Treat yourself with the same kindness and understanding that you would offer to the most cherished person in your life.

5. Set Boundaries: It's okay to set boundaries to protect your emotional well-being. If seeing others celebrate Mother’s Day feels too painful, give yourself permission to step back and take care of yourself.

6. Focus on Gratitude: While Mother’s Day may bring up painful emotions, try to focus on the positive memories and lessons you've gained from the maternal figures in your life, no matter how fleeting or imperfect those moments may have been. As I look in the mirror, I see traces of my grandmother’s spirit reflected back at me—a small smile, a twinkle in the eye, a spark of mischief. We were kindred spirits, she and I, connected by a bond that transcended time and space. And though she may no longer walk this earth, her presence is felt in every beat of my heart, in every breath I take. I am grateful for the strength she instilled in me—the resilience to weather life's storms, the courage to face adversity head-on, the wisdom to find beauty in the midst of chaos.

7. Seek Meaningful Connections: Reach out to others who may be experiencing similar emotions. Connecting with others who understand can provide a sense of solidarity and support in navigating this difficult time. I too, am working on that!

Remember, you are not alone in your pain. You are seen, you are heard, and you are worthy of love and compassion—even on the hardest of days.

- J

Breaking Chains: My Journey from Oppression to Conscious Leadership

In the echo of history, we stand at the intersection of remembrance and responsibility. As we commemorate Martin Luther King Jr. Day, it's not merely a date on the calendar; it's a profound invitation to reflect on a legacy etched in courage, justice, and unwavering determination. Today, as I reflect on Martin Luther King's powerful "The Drum Major Instinct" speech, I can't help but draw parallels to my own journey. Dr. King spoke about the innate desire in all of us to lead, to be recognized, and to feel significant. However, he challenged us to channel this instinct into a force for good, into a drive for justice and equality.

My story begins (actually, scratch - ‘begins’ and replace that with ‘my story has been impacted by'. MY story begins with my ancestors *snaps fingers*) with the harsh reality of discrimination and oppression in various leadership roles. I've faced the subtle biases, the systemic barriers, and the unspoken challenges that come with being different in a position of influence. It's a lonely road, one that's often met with resistance and skepticism.

Yet, in the face of adversity, I made a choice – a choice to be a conscious, intentional, and active leader. The road less traveled, filled with risks and uncertainties, but also laden with the potential for transformative change.

Breaking the Chains: A Personal Awakening

The drum major instinct, as Dr. King described it, is the desire to be out front, a desire to lead the parade. It's a natural inclination, but how we lead and the causes we champion determine the impact we have on society.

In my own experience, I found myself at the crossroads of conformity and conviction. The pressure to conform to existing power structures, to stay silent in the face of injustice, was immense. But I couldn't ignore the calling within me, the call to lead with purpose and to challenge the status quo.

Navigating the Battlefield of Bias

Leadership, especially when challenging norms, is a battlefield. It's where biases clash with ideals, where stereotypes attempt to overshadow substance. I faced moments of doubt and moments of triumph. But through it all, I remained steadfast in my commitment to conscious leadership.

Transitioning from a passive observer to an active advocate wasn't easy. It required uncomfortable conversations, tireless efforts, and the courage to confront ingrained prejudices. However, with each step, I could feel the chains of oppression breaking, not just for me but for those who would come after.

The Ripple Effect: Impacting Social Change

Dr. King emphasized the ripple effect of leadership – how one person's actions can inspire a movement. I have witnessed this firsthand as my commitment to conscious leadership began to influence those around me. The collaborative work I was blessed to be part of focused on integral themes to impact social change and reform: Encourage colleagues to start questioning their own biases, reevaluate policies, and contribute to a culture where inclusivity can began to take root.

Yes, there were setbacks. Yes, the journey was arduous. But the impact on social change was undeniable, even in small doses. The drum major instinct was transformed from a desire for personal recognition to a call for justice, equality, and a better world for all.

Embracing the Risk, Embracing the Future

Choosing to be a conscious leader in the face of discrimination is not without risk. It requires resilience, bravery, and an unwavering belief in the power of change. My journey may be one among many, but it serves as a testament to the potential within each of us to break free from the chains of oppression.

As we commemorate Martin Luther King's legacy, let us reflect on our own drum major instincts. Are we leading for personal glory, or are we leading for the greater good? The choice is ours, and the impact can be profound.

I take back my body.

I take back my body.

The body I have existed within, but without.

The body that has fought, endured - SURVIVED.

The body that has existed as a foreigner, unable to comprehend the torment - the hate.

The body that has been used as a tool for pleasure yet existed without love.

The body that has never experienced safety but was kept for safe keeping.

BUT OH BODY YOU HAVE SURVIVED.

The curves you carry tell a tale beyond it’s time.

Those legs have kept you mounted when you were expected to fall.

Those arms, my dear, have carried more than pain.

They hold compassion, humility and strength that can never be measured.

That temple, has received and given life that will change the world.

I take back my body.

OH BODY, I TAKE YOU BACK.

Inspired by the artistic expression of Rupi Kaur: "I'm Taking My Body Back."

National Domestic Violence Hotline: 800-799-7233

North Carolina Coalition Against Domestic Violence

Inherited Worry? Is that you?

I’m sure you may be familiar with the feelings, the sensations and even the heaviness. You look around and KNOW you are okay but that feeling you can’t shake seems to be indicating otherwise. Is someone coming to harm me? Is something going to happen to my family? Will I wake up tomorrow and everything I’ve worked for just – disappears? This is what I call “inherited worry.” Consider that continuous, unnerved and unsettling feeling isn’t ALL yours. Maybe that’s the worry and fear passed down through generations of our ancestors and elders, now settling upon us.

When I think about my elders, the wisest people within my family – I think about the time that I valued most with them, past and present. Congregating in the living room absorbing the love and humor existing within each soul. Eating our most cherished dishes, those consistently shared and cooked among generations yet evolving each time. Sitting in awe as the stories of our lineage were told, some troubling but most empowering. Those are the memories I cherish.

But! The troubling stories. The stories that your brain wanders back to each time you try to forget. Those are the stories I paid attention to most, scared but still intrigued. These are the stories that informed how I learned to cope, trust and above all – protect myself.

Post Traumatic Slave Syndrome 
Perhaps, you are familiar with Post Traumatic Slave Syndrome (PTSS). This term was coined by Dr. Joy DeGruy Leary to help explain the consequences of multigenerational oppression from centuries of chattel slavery and institutionalized racism, and to identify the resulting adaptive survival behaviors. Essentially, PTSS is the notion that the traumatic effects of enslavement have been transferred to successive generations.

Key patterns of behavior to be aware of that are reflective of PTSS:

• A vacant esteem.You have feelings of hopelessness, depression, and a general self-destructive outlook.

• Marked propensity for anger and violence. Extreme feelings of suspicion and perceived negative motivations of others. Violence against self, property and others, including the members of one’s own group — friends, relatives, or acquaintances.

• Racist socialization and (internalized racism).Learned helplessness, literacy deprivation, distorted self-concept, antipathy, or aversion for members of one’s own identified cultural or ethnic group, the mores and customs associated with one’s own identified cultural or ethnic heritage, and the physical characteristics of one’s own identified cultural or ethnic group.

According to Leary, PTSS cannot simply be treated and remedied clinically. Changes in society must take place first by ridding the U.S. of inequality and injustice toward the descendants of enslaved Africans. Maybe we see the impact of societal change during our generation, maybe we don’t. That doesn’t mean we cease opportunities to continue to fight, to persevere and to maximize our voices. As Rupi Kaur wrote,

“I am the product of all the ancestors getting together and deciding these stories need to be told.”

For more information regarding PTSS –
Dr. DeGruy has developed her theory of Post Traumatic Slave Syndrome, and published her findings in the book “Post Traumatic Slave Syndrome – America’s Legacy of Enduring Injury and Healing”.

Watch Dr. Joy DeGruy Leary – Post Traumatic Slave Syndrome

Artwork by: Marietjie Henning