The Unspoken Truth About Mother-Daughter Trauma
Editor's Note: If you're a sexual abuse or assault survivor, the following personal essay could be potentially triggering to you. If you find yourself in need of help or assistance, please contact The National Sexual Assault Telephone Hotline at 1-800-656-4673.
I was 12 when I was molested by mom's boyfriend. I broke the age-old vow, what happens in our household, stays in our household, when I told my mentor what happened. My mom found out about it when a Child Protective Services worker came to our house to interview me in our living room.
On my way home to tell a complete stranger what happened, in the car alone with one of my uncles, he warned me that by telling the truth I'd be the reason why I'd get taken from my mom and she could go to jail.
As I sat on the same couch where pieces of my innocence were stolen and hearing the voices of family members in the next room, I listened to my Uncle's advice and chose to save my mom instead of telling my truth.
I'm 33 now. We never discussed what happened. None of us — her, him, nor my uncle. She stayed in the relationship with him while he continued to live with us. Feeling like I had to suppress anything I felt about being molested and having to hide it from everyone, I tried journaling my way through the shame and disappointment I felt.
In my mind lived questions about whether I did something to make him want to touch me — was I too comfortable at home, wearing something around the house that was too revealing; did I laugh too much at his jokes so he thought I was flirting; did I do anything that made him think I wanted him to do what he did? That has been a heavy load to carry.
A few years later, one evening during a heated argument of theirs, my mama told him that she believed he'd molested me but at that time she loved him more than she loved me. Without missing a beat and sticking true to our unspoken rule on how to address important conversations, we never discussed it. I already didn't know how to tell her I was still hurting from the hands of the man that had been in our lives since I was about seven years old. How could I tell her that her words were equally painful?
It was hard living in the same space as him and beginning to believe that I was less important, it was unbearable to hear her validate how I'd felt.
Without having real-life healthy relationships, living in that dysfunction was the foundation of deciding to dodge love. I was too young to know that her version of love was really codependency. I was old enough to know, though, if that was love, then I didn't want it. With my adolescent wisdom, I believed that love would lead me to make illogical decisions that hurt innocent people.
Much too young to make these kind of decisions, I'd told myself that I'd never give my heart to a man and I'd never allow people to get too close to me (so much so, this is the first time that I'm actually exposing my entire truth to people that I've known for years — I've perfected the art of keeping people at a distance). My coping mechanism was to build a wall around my heart.
For me, if I wasn't enough for my mama to choose me, then how could I be enough for anyone else?
After sweeping my shame, confusion, and hurt under the rug while battling anxiety and trying to recover from vivid nightmares over the years, it took me becoming a mom to feel the desire to address my childhood traumas. Initially, it was too late, or so I thought, because my abuser and my mama were already deceased. For years I thought getting an apology from them was what I needed to move on. In reality, God and therapy are how I found closure.
Oftentimes, we're led to believe that closure and healing begins with a conversation with those that wound us. Nothing could be further from the truth. The closure we need comes from within. A couple of months ago I spoke with an aunt about my mom, asking her questions to gain a better understanding of my mom.
The more questions I asked, the more I realized that I don't need the answers to continue on my journey to heal. Just like there are answers that may help us, there are also answers that may hurt us. Giving myself permission to truly feel, acknowledge the pain I felt from him and her, trusting God, and fully diving into therapy, were pivotal in me being able to forgive them.
In therapy, I was challenged to change how I told my story to myself. Instead of it being laced with any traces of shame, embarrassment, or defeat, to find the empowering parts and speak them; speak highly of how I fought back and give less value to the abuse itself.
Even though I overheard her saying that she loved him more at the time of the molestation, it does not mean that she never loved me. In a vulnerable moment with her partner, she exposed herself to her weakness. It's not my job to carry that. While it hurt and altered how I've lived my life, it's because I allowed it.
For so long, I fought to not become her — sharing her idea of love, allowing my love for my husband to not compromise my decision-making skills as a mom, that I became overly protective of our son and uncomfortable with being loved. Sometimes even doubting that healthy love was even real.
I refuse to pass that along to our son.
Putting myself in my mom's shoes without us ever discussing her trauma, insecurities, and challenges helped me to begin to confront the expectations that I had of her. I was reminded that people are just that, they're people. I'm never going to fully understand the decisions she made — I'm not her, I never knew her, and I believe her decisions weren't meant for me to understand. I feel confident in saying that she never knew herself.
I don't believe my mom knew the fullness of the strength, power, and love that she possessed — enough of them that she didn't need the love from him that she wanted so badly that she welcomed having her judgment tainted by it. I find myself, now, often wondering how much it may have hurt her to choose her version of love over her intuition as a mother and as a woman.
As a mom now, I know that it had to have been a very difficult decision for her to make and then to live with daily with me in her presence. I have peace with the decisions she made — while I can't definitively say I would make the same decisions she made, who's to say that I still wouldn't stumble?
I believe the purpose in my pain was to add to the limited conversation of overcoming mother-daughter trauma within the African-American community.
One day I came across some game-changing scriptures — Acts 5:28-29. I was reminded that the generational pattern of nonexistent communication on important, life-altering situations and shame has led me to live in silence. In the scripture, Peter and the apostles were being commanded to stop preaching about Jesus and to stop speaking His name.
They responded by asking, "Do we listen to man or obey God?" That question hit me like a ton of bricks! It reminded me that our lives are not our lives, they ultimately belong to God along with assignments that we must fulfill.
While I do not believe God was part of the molestation, I do believe that He has called me to use it as a means to ending mother-daughter trauma. How dare I be covered by God's grace to heal from the significant pain that's been living in the depths of my soul majority of my life, then I have the audacity choose to stay silent because of what man may think about it? No ma'am!
I can't live comfortably knowing that I have something to offer another mom and daughter that may untie the knots of pain that have held them bound due to lack of perspective or poor communication. We don't do the work required to heal from situations merely just to be healed for ourselves. Perpetually, we become better so that others connected to us are inspired to do the same.
It's not easy telling others that I was molested. It is also not easy to tell people that my mom was in love with my abuser and she chose him. Hard decisions are the deciding factor between being selfish and being selfless. I choose the latter.
If you or anyone you know is being affected by sexual assualt or abuse, please contact the National Sexual Assault Telephone Hotline at 1-800-656-4673.
Featured image by Shutterstock
I find humor in most things, guaranteed to insert a rap lyric into our conversation (especially if it's getting too serious), sleep and food are my best friends. I'm married to THE most patient man, mom to THE kindest (smartest and most handsome) kid, a bit of a business owner (@our.words.matter), and a future (full-time) writer. Find me on IG (@jamiewshngtn) and say hi!
ItGirl 100 Honors Black Women Who Create Culture & Put On For Their Cities
As they say, create the change you want to see in this world, besties. That’s why xoNecole linked up with Hyundai for the inaugural ItGirl 100 List, a celebration of 100 Genzennial women who aren’t afraid to pull up their own seats to the table. Across regions and industries, these women embody the essence of discovering self-value through purpose, honey! They're fierce, they’re ultra-creative, and we know they make their cities proud.
VIEW THE FULL ITGIRL 100 LIST HERE.
Don’t forget to also check out the ItGirl Directory, featuring 50 Black-woman-owned marketing and branding agencies, photographers and videographers, publicists, and more.
THE ITGIRL MEMO
I. An ItGirl puts on for her city and masters her self-worth through purpose.
II. An ItGirl celebrates all the things that make her unique.
III. An ItGirl empowers others to become the best versions of themselves.
IV. An ItGirl leads by example, inspiring others through her actions and integrity.
V. An ItGirl paves the way for authenticity and diversity in all aspects of life.
VI. An ItGirl uses the power of her voice to advocate for positive change in the world.
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We Need To Talk About The Current State Of Black Cinema
In the last decade, Black cinema has seen a revival like no other, thanks to writers and directors Jordan Peele, Barry Jenkins, and Ava DuVernay. Through their narratives, we have been enamored with Black stories of normalcy and horror that have captivated audiences and shown exactly what narratives are deserved and desired by Black viewers. Nevertheless, the current state of Black films still has some ways to go, and can easily accomplish the next stage of its reemergence if it considers the genres where representation is still lacking.
For years, Black audience members have been treated like they're secondary, forced to enjoy the experiences of their white counterparts as if they were sidekicks to their journey instead of walking in their shoes.
On the heels of his Oscar win for "Best Screenplay" for the 2023 comedy/drama American Fiction, first-time director Cord Jefferson shared his perspective on the narrow view of Black characters on-screen and why there's a need for diversity in the Black stories we choose to tell in film. "There is an appetite for things that are different and a story with Black characters that’s going to appeal to a lot of people," Cord explained. "[Black films don’t] need to take place on a plantation, they don’t need to take place in the projects. It doesn’t need to have drug dealers in it and doesn’t need to have gang members in it. There’s an audience and market for depictions of Black life that are as broad and as deep as any other depictions of people’s lives."
Now, as Black cinema continues to grow, they must challenge themselves to create tales that reflect the Black experience beyond the narratives of racism, slavery, and segregation. Instead of creating more window-filled films, where we must peek into the lives of others in hopes of seeing ourselves, it is imperative the new films provide mirrors for Black audiences to finally see themselves as worthy of romance, levity, fantasy, action, and time.
The art we create must challenge Black cinema as they know it to create the Black movies that should have always been. Here's how:
Black Cinema Needs More Romance and Romantic Comedies
Black cinema deserves whirlwind romances with tenderness, complexity, kindness, erraticness, playfulness, and compassion.
Instead of being the second-hand side quest to a tale filled with hardship and misery, Black romantic stories should be placed center stage with intentionality and eloquent execution. It is important that Black romantic comedies be recreated with the same gusto they did in the early 2000s for white romantic comedies, with narratives that are better than the ones we idealize today. In these new narratives, Black romance must show that Black men can be whole and Black women can be easy to love. It is also essential to show that love can be held by same-sex couples.
In Black films, our love needs levity. It needs warmth. It needs nurture, and it needs to come in abundance so that we have examples of more than one way to love. Because at this moment, the only narrative we have been given on Black love comes from that of sadness and grief. Love that requires one or both parties be broken and bruised and bleeding all over the other to the point that hate and self-loathing breed a love like one has never known. This narrative is overplayed, and even more so, it is cruel in creating a falsehood that everything black must be birthed from sorrow.
Take Love & Basketball, the romance/drama, for example, which many consider to be the pinnacle of Black love. I don't need to tell you why because there are a thousand and one comments and videos on how everyone tries to defend this romance. Instead, I’ll tell you why it is not. Their romance is toxic. Simple as that. It’s cultural and controversial, so I won’t go too much into detail, and if I need to, we can have a separate article for that. But the relationship is toxic, and there are moments when both Monica and Q are giving nothing, but expecting everything.
Omar Epps and Sanaa Lathan in 'Love & Basketball'
They never truly learn how to love one another properly and justify their bad examples of love on what they experienced in the past (read "generational trauma"). Though that could be the reason, it did not justify the ultimate outcome. And though some of us might have felt seen by a story like this, especially in our own imperfect love and dating experiences, the Black experience is not a monolith, and it does not represent the healthy love we now seek to cultivate in our lives.
Plus, with such an emphasis placed on films that are dramas, there is a focus on the struggle, whether it be life or love. Paving the way to see ourselves in more films as romantic leads that offer levity, like a romantic comedy, is a welcomed change to the moving and culturally impactful stories we see. When we think of Black romantic comedies of yesteryear, actresses like Queen Latifah and even Gabrielle Union come to mind, but since the early 2000s, we haven't seen nearly as much traction in the world of romantic comedies overall, but especially ones that feature Black leads with Black love interests.
When Black romance stories are made, love should be given to the characters as a gift, not a sentencing. It should unravel beautifully, and the characters and their romance should be cherished. Their love should be watered, tended, and filled with so much beauty the gods themselves cry.
Kofi Siriboe and Jade Eshete in 'Really Love'
Netflix
Black Cinema Needs More Sci-Fi and Fantasy
In the last three decades, we have seen films about a boy who flew across the sky because of the alien he carried in his bicycle basket, objects that have come to life to tell children stories, vampires who glitter in the sun, and children who can visit a magical world by running through brick walls. Yet, you’re still telling me that our imaginations cannot expand far enough to see all this done with characters who are Black? Ridiculous. Pure absurdity. There needs to be more moments of wonderment and amazement in Black cinema.
There needs to be realms that children and adults can escape into when the reality of institutions becomes too much to bear or rationalize. We shouldn’t be thankful that white stories change characters into Black ones so that we can travel along and hope to experience the same sense of wonder as our white counterparts.
Instead, we should have stories that were made for Black characters to travel freely and happily escape the challenges faced in our society. We need realms where we fit perfectly in and can be just as magical and enchanting as we’ve always been.
Black Cinema Needs More Action and Thrillers
Last year, the Times wrote an article focusing on the influence of Richard Rountree's Shaft on the Black action hero narrative. In this article, the writer listed eight movies that were essential to watch that held Black leads as action heroes. Unfortunately, the majority of these movies listed came from the 1900s, with very few films featuring Black action leads in the 2000s or later.
Recently, Amazon Prime released their version ofMr. and Mrs. Smith, where Donald Glover has the chance of being the infamous spy that stole our hearts in 2005. In this, he is the same, charismatic character that he always portrays, with a little more action and thrill than we have associated with him before. Although the show has its flaws, Glover as an action hero makes for an entertaining watch and an interesting take on what it would mean to be a Black spy during moments where blending in in white spaces is essential.
Donald Glover starring in 'Mr. & Mrs. Smith' (2024)
Prime Video
On the other hand, we have Michael B. Jordan, who finds himself in action and thrillers where he is either the villain (Black Panther), anti-hero(Creed), or reluctant, and controversial savior (Without Remorse). In his films, he shows how Black characters can be both the hero and the villain simultaneously based on circumstances and unfortunate interactions with institutions that he has sworn to protect and have sworn to protect him. And of course, we cannot forget about the action films Samuel L. Jackson has starred in, including a revival of the aforementioned Shaft in the 2000s.
However, despite the list of Black actors above, the film industry still lacks tremendously in the Black action protagonist department. Despite its need, we rarely see Black actors allotted the opportunity to run from exploding buildings like Tom Cruise in any Mission Impossible film or the ability to hunt down the kidnappers of various Black girls taken from their father's home, as Liam Neeson does in Taken.
To enhance Black cinema, the industry needs to consider making Black characters the hero of their own stories, and for their own people. These action films must be just as outlandish and enticing as the action films made before, without a greater chance of a happy ending and outcome. Now that the action and thriller genre is looking for a revival, it is wise to consider using Black people as the heroes they've always been and rarely recognized as.
Black Cinema Needs More Black Period Pieces (outside of slavery and segregation)
The last thing we need is another damn story rotted in our nation’s mistreatment of Black people. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying that these stories are not important. I am just saying it is the last damn thing that we need. Why? Because we already have 101 Dalmatians worth of these, and we don’t need more. If you want a period piece on slavery and segregation, watch 12 Years a Slave or Harriet, or Birth of a Nation, or Emancipation, or Antebellum, or Hidden Figures, or Freedom, or Remember the Titans, or Emperor, or….you get the point. There are plenty of movies about Black people and our centuries’ worth of hardship.
However, our stories are more than this, and there are moments in history that I believe fiction writers can integrate Black people and their experiences without making slavery and segregation stand in the forefront; think series likeBridgertonor Queen Charlotte.
India Ria Amarteifio as Queen Charlotte in 'Queeen Charlotte: A Bridgerton Story'
Netflix
Hell, take Lovecraft Country, for example. This story acknowledged racism, segregation, and mistreatment of Black people. However, the narratives given to the characters in this period piece were so complex and intricate, that the last thing they worried about was racism itself. In a world where monsters are rooted at every corner, the societal pressures of segregation are in the back of their minds.
Though they still dealt with moments relating to racism, their character’s experiences weren’t based only on it. The only time it was was when they were around white characters, and outside of it, they were well-rounded characters who experienced life as it was, most importantly outside of the box society tries to fit them in. This needs to happen, again. I want stories where Black people speak in modern English, walking around their big ass gardens in dolly, vintage, and cottage-core dresses, and pleated pants with suspenders.
We need stories in history where Black people can exist outside of the white historical lens.
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Featured image via Giphy