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trau·ma

/ˈtroumə,ˈtrômə/

noun

1. a deeply distressing or disturbing experience.

Traumatic experiences are person-dependent. Something that is traumatic to one person might not be traumatic to another. It can be anything from your bullying story to breaking up with your first love to your parents divorce . Whatever it is, it sticks with you. It stays in the back of your mind, shaping your moves and thoughts. They shape you into the you that you see daily.

“Alright Michaela, the floor is yours,” my teacher announced

As the words flew from my mouth and from my mind, I could feel their eyes on me. I didn’t want to look up to meet their gaze. The gaze that would soon send me out of the school day in tears day after day. I finish the presentation. I am reassured with the claps.

“Boo!” I hear faintly from the back of the classroom.

There goes the reassurance, so short lived. Why did they have to do that? I did nothing to them. Why me? The faint and quiet “Boo” felt like the weight of the world on top of me. It hurt as nothing had before. It hurt me deep inside and I didn’t know why.

This was the first time I ever felt like this. I was scared to be in front of my classmates. I was scared of my classmates. That presentation back in 7th grade seemed to set a tone to the rest of my doing when it came to school. I became nervous and untrusting in myself. Yes, it has changed a bit in past years due to gaining more confidence in speaking to an audience but the feeling of being judged stays crawling up my spine as I stand in front of any traditional classroom setting. I hate this feeling. It comes back even if I don’t expect it. I feel my hands shake. I hear my voice trembling in my ears. The faint “boo” makes an appearance in my mind every now and then. I do try and fight that awful noise telling me I am not worth the presentation but it is quite hard sometimes.

Even short, quick words like these ,can be very effective in impacting how you feel about your identity. They stick with you. Catcalling is something many women will handle throughout their life. For some, it may be more traumatic than it is for others. Burtman said, in a New York Times article titled, My Body Doesn’t Belong to You, “...once I turned 16, my body no longer belonged to me but to the world at large and to certain men who drove their cars past it” (Burtman, 2017). Traumatic experiences can very easily affect how someone views themselves. In the example of catcalling, women can begin to feel that they are only worth the words they hear on the streets, words from mouths of people they don’t know. The words they hear on the streets are brought up during self-reflection. Self-reflection is not always dwelling on trauma, but thinking about them in a more positive light. Reflecting can flip those words around; That “ayo Ma, let me tap that”, can turn into words of self-love. “You’re beautiful”  Self-reflection is very much key to true self-love and being able to face traumatic experiences again. You ultimately know you better than others do, but that does not mean they can’t help you. You need to know all kinds of ways to help yourself out of a rut. Others are able to give you those ideas. Others can be used to bounce around your own ideas. It is very important to most people. I say most because something that works for you might not work for someone else, just like something traumatic for you might not be traumatic for someone else.

In the book Between the World and Me, Coates is trying to convey the importance of race and identity. He talks about living in his own skin and telling us what it is like to live through experiences that were truly created by race. He says, “In America, the injury is not in being born with darker skin, with fuller lips, with a broader nose, but in everything that happens after” (120). This quote says that the things that affect your identity most are experiences. Many different things can make an experience traumatic. For Coates, traumatic experiences that happened because of his race left a great impact on his character. They affected how he viewed himself in comparison to others. They left a lasting impact on his identity.

Many things we know and experience in life can have an affect on our identity. A traumatic experiences can be one of those things that effects you greatly. Though it is traumatic it doesn’t mean it has to have a negative lasting impact on your self identity. Through self reflection and reflecting with others you can change how that experience affects you. Traumatic experiences are different for all that go through them but in the end, the impact is the same.

Depression is an illness that many choose not to recognize and that flies under the radar far too often. It seems to only be noticed when something drastic happens, such as a suicide attempt. People with depression can only truly connect to others that have depression; this is the only way we seem to belong. My claim is supported through articles and Ted Talks that talk about a low sense of belonging in depressed individuals and that reach out to give comfort to these individuals. This topic also brings about the question of what belonging truly is and what it means. To someone with depression, someone who’s lonely and desperate for comfort, belonging means everything.

The night I nearly killed myself wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. I went to school and it was terrible, then I came home. When I got home, I did my homework, even though I didn’t see the point; I knew I wouldn’t be there the next day. I forced a dinner down my throat, struggling through each bite. I took a shower so that I’d be somewhat clean when they found me. I went to my room, coming out only to use the bathroom, and at one point to steal my grandmother’s sleeping pills.

Everyone went to bed early that night, and I said goodnight and I love you to them all. It didn’t seem out of the ordinary for them. Waiting until I was sure my family was asleep, I went online. My main social media back then was Pinterest; I had friends from all over the world. We had a group chat and we were all depressed. I told them how I was feeling.

People with depression have a hard time connecting with others; this is because depression makes a person feel alone. According to a study by the University of Michigan, “A psychological sense of belonging is a greater predictor of major depression than other factors commonly associated with depression… the disease isn't always easily detected by friends or family members because those who suffer from depression often try to hide it.” This shows that it is hard for people with depression to really connect, even with friends and family. When someone has depression, they are both desperate for a sense of love and belonging and conflicted because they feel that they’re not good enough for those around them. It seems that the only people who want them around are the ones who are similarly suicidal, depressed people; they need you as much as you need them.

Typing, typing, typing. “I don’t want to be alive.”

Ping. “Me neither.”

Ping. “It’s hard to keep going, hard to see the point.”

Ping. “You can always talk to me.”

These are the people I know, the people who know me. I share my all with them; every second of every day, they know about everything. They know about the bullying and the eating disorder and the cutting and the burning, and anything else that was done to tear me down, by others or by myself. These people lifted me up. I lifted them up, too, but not for long.

Typing, typing, typing. “I want to kill myself.”

Ping. “Me too but it’ll be okay.”

Ping. “Me too but don’t.”

Ping. “Me too but if you don’t I won’t.”

These people know how I feel. They feel the same way. These people were my friends, trying to give me a will to live when I couldn’t do that for myself. We all want to take away the others’ pain. Maybe we do, but we all have the same pain, so nothing really changes.

I needed a break from them; I couldn’t disappoint them too much too quickly. And if I said anything about my plan without having already swallowed the pills, they’d talk me down. I couldn’t let that happen. I counted the elliptical blue pills. Even years later I remember that there were fifty-three melatonin pills in the bottle that night. I wondered if it was enough.

I’ll never know the answer to that question, I think. The morning after, no one could tell that anything was really different at all. It’s because I didn’t share with them because I knew they wouldn’t understand.

In a TedTalk by Mark Henick, Why We Choose Suicide, he talks about his experience with this, saying, “In fact, I was so normal, most people never would have guessed… And I know that some of you know that feeling too.” This quote reflects how people don’t really see or notice when a person is suicidal. They pass someone off as quiet, or they don’t think of it because the person doesn’t ‘seem suicidal’. Mr. Henick also makes a connection to anyone listening; he knows that this is something that people face every day silently and wants to make sure that they know that they’re not alone. He knows that talks about depression are often controlled by those who haven’t experienced it, which makes it hard for those who have to come out and talk about it. It’s difficult for us to feel like we belong, even in a conversation about us.

Typing, typing, typing. “I’m going to kill myself. I have a bottle of pills and I’m going to die.”

Ping. “Don’t, we love you.” A lie.

Ping. “Sara you’ll regret it.” I can’t regret if I’m not around.

Ping. “Sara your family will be wrecked.” As if they even care.

I took one pill. I took another. I stopped. I didn’t write my notes; I needed to. Writing each one I cry harder and harder, and I’m getting scared.

Typing, typing, typing. “I’m scared. I have to do this but I’m scared.”

Ping. “It’s okay to be scared.”

Ping. “You don’t have to do this.”

I just wanted it all to go away. I knew that they cared about me but I couldn’t stand it.

Ping. “Don’t do it Sara. That’s an incredibly painful way to die. You won’t sleep you’ll be in pain for hours and when your family finds you it won’t be clean, it’ll be messy and devastating. Devastating. The note won’t be enough. They will cry walking by your room for months and funerals cost thousands of dollars they don’t have. Put down the bottle and go to bed, Sara.”

That message kept me alive long enough to go to sleep without taking any more pills. The girl who sent it, her name was Lilli, and she lived in California. She lived halfway across the world, yet she was able to save my life. She was part of a network that I related to and that kept me alive through the darkest parts of my life. They understood how I was feeling and offered comfort, solutions that they had put to the test. They were the only ones I could connect to, and that chat was the only place that I felt the warm sensation of belonging.

From your hosts,

Ellis and Karston

Monolithic Masculinity

For centuries, the interpretation of what it meant to be a man has been altered to fit the time period. Expectations of how they behave, speak, and interact with one another can be whittled down to a formula for what society depicts as the “ideal man.” We set the expectation that men are supposed to be emotionless and strong in all aspects, suppressing their true feelings for fear of scrutiny from their peers. Of course, this doesn’t apply to all young men. Some go against this fabricated normal, but what do can they do? It is through no fault of their own that they do not fit this mold. However, when we compare them there will always be the question, “who’s the better man?”

Young men who are living behind this facade are subject to seeking approval of their masculinity. They are being forced to be someone they are not or don’t want to be so that they can be accepted. We see this in schools and in our outside communities. This causes them to reject their true selves. For many succeeding in life is being able to express who you are and not conforming to the straight path that is given to you that was formed so that you are what society wants you to be. It’s beneficial to be true to yourself in spaces where a monolithic form of masculinity is only accepted because of the fact there are expectations of what a true man is.

During the early stages of adolescent development, we are not fully aware nor do we choose to acknowledge how much influence our surroundings play into our lives. We see them in cartoons, movies, literature, the list goes on. We always see the classic scenario of the damsel in distress and the big macho man saving her. This is a basic claim to an adult looking back on their childhood. It is something that they reflect on and says, “oh yeah…” But as children, we are living our best lives unaware of these outside influences. Leanord Sax, a practicing physician, writes in an article about Masculinity in America, “As a result, many boys today define masculinity negatively: Being a real man means doing things that girls don’t do.” From this, we see that young men as a result of having an idea of a what a man should be, limit themselves to one form of thinking that puts them in direct competition with not only themselves to try and prove that they are masculine enough. But as well as putting themselves in competition with the opposite gender unknowingly destroying the unique sense of self that some value because of its’ important relation to self-identity.  

For young men trying to find themselves during this time of confusion, how can we expect them simply put themselves out there but at the same time have them think that who they are isn’t accepted.  In the same article “Masculinity in America,” Leanord Sax continues to argue that young boys are, “....reveling in their supposed masculinity but disengaged from the real world.” Looking at it as a young man myself, I see this type of behavior on a daily basis. I remember when there was a time where I was one of those boys who was so worried about being a “man.” But then I realized I was never going to get anywhere if I kept thinking the same way. Looking at this from above, having an out of body reflective experience I saw that my actions, words, thoughts, and habits, were all heavily based on what my males peers deemed fun. Their jokes that were misogynistic and sexist to me seemed normal because that’s what normal guys talk about, right? It wasn’t until later that I realized that the people I surrounded myself than were not helping build my idea of what a real man was. Having the ability to have an honest conversation with myself about what a man was proved to be beneficial in the end. That is what some young men are missing. As they grow up, they have no idea how expansive the concept of a man, and with that comes confusion leading away from the path of acceptance.

These ideals leave our young men short-sighted and lost. We cannot say that these ideas will simply disappear, what we can do however is begin to accept those for who they are not who we want to be. As a society, we need to learn to accept the children for who they are, especially our young men. Dismantling gender roles is the first step, but bringing up the next generation to accept themselves and others is the only we can truly tell kids to be themselves. Masculinity isn’t a formulated thing. You can mold it, shape it however you like. But if we want to produce better men, we have to let children define masculinity for themselves.   

In my life, I have experienced what I recognize as a cycle of identity; a pattern of changes in my self that I can pinpoint to specific times in my life. This way of viewing identity can be applied to many peoples’ lives. We have all felt alone in our lives; like we don’t belong. And experiences where we feel isolated are the ones that affect us the deepest. I remember a time where I felt this way myself:

The sedan was filled to the gills with middle-grade girls; we were packed four deep in the brown leather backseat. We had just finished a very important travel soccer game and were still feeling the glowing euphoria of a 3-0, those were scarce for us. As the car sped along the highway somewhere in Montgomery County, So What came on the radio. Immediately the other girls roared along with P!nk’s gritty, sassy vocal: “Guess I just lost my husband, I don’t know where he went!” As my heart sunk in my chest; I pretended to sing along, mouthing some of the more predictable lyrics and hoping no one noticed. I had been given a test that everyone had studied for but me. In that moment, I felt like I would never truly be part of the team, no matter how many goals I scored on the field. My early experience as an outsider is still deeply ingrained in my identity today. I have gone through many selves, but I can pinpoint a few instances in my life when my self changed noticeably. They were catalyzed by the environment I was in at those times, and are reflected in the lives of many people in our society.

In her Ted Talk, Embracing Otherness, Embracing Myself, Thandie Newton poignantly says about selfhood: “What is real is separateness, and at some point in early babyhood, the idea of self starts to form.” The development of self is something we all experience throughout our lives.  Newton is describing the first of the key phases of self. In other words, she is alluding to the fact that when we are young, we learn to first cling to the things that make us similar to other people, and we begin to mold ourselves based on those characteristics. Some things, like gender, are imposed on us from birth, used to separate us in different roles to organize society. We are very attuned to this, and tend to want to cooperate with it, taking a side on a fake dividing line. As Newton says, separateness becomes very real to us very quickly, and we instinctively want to avoid the feelings that come with not fitting in. In our early childhood, where it is clear to us we don’t have much power in our world, we cling to the things that do give us security, and that means ascribing ourselves to specific groups.

This first phase of self, for me, went unchallenged up until middle school. For most people, middle school is a time where your identity is pretty much constantly attacked, no matter who you are. This is a time where bullying is severe, where the things that make you different are put on display for everyone to see. I questioned the very essence of who I was- I stood on a ledge, a cavern of possibilities all around me, waiting to jump. Who are you? Who are your people? What do you like? These questions are all important in this second phase of self. For some people, the second phase of self leads to the rejection of certain irreversible parts of your identity, sometimes forever. It’s not safe to be different, so you deny the things about yourself you can’t change.

The second dramatic change in self that I experienced in my life was also in middle school, right after the first. Like my first change in self, it was characterized by me relating myself to other people by difference, rather than similarity. But unlike the uncertain and shameful experience of the second phase, I dug my heels into my identity. I tried so hard to stand out from my peers. Seeing how big the world is in your early teenhood completely grabs hold of you and makes you want to matter. So it was important for me for my identity to be centered around the things that made me unique. I actively sought out new music, books, and clothes, completely falling into my role as the ‘weird’ kid. I was really worried about what people thought, but I pretended I  wasn’t.

When I hear the word “culture,” I picture a big gathering of people all coming together to celebrate their similarities with one another. I see colors, lights, dancing, singing, rituals, etc. To me, it is something to cherish because it’s where you can find belonging. It’s where you have almost everything in common with the people surrounded by you. It’s home. I was sent out into the world where there wasn’t only my culture. There were hundreds more and it’s when I realized I won’t always belong wherever I go. Stereotypes are put on many cultures, putting people to shame about the culture they come from or are apart of. Being a part of two cultures is when things can get very complicated. I am stuck between the Puerto Rican culture and the American culture and it is like I am stuck between two worlds. Two worlds that cannot interfere, it is either one or the other or even sometimes neither. But I believe that there is a world where the two can coexist because both are who I am.

I love being Puerto Rican but being Puerto Rican in Philadelphia is completely different from being Puerto Rican in Puerto Rico. I pick and choose when I want to show the Hispanic side of me since it isn’t something that’s normal to people in Philadelphia. English is the main language and speaking another language is a “cool” thing when it’s really the same as knowing English. We all make each other feel so different just because we don’t come from the same culture or ethnicity or especially when not all of us are the same skin tone.

The stereotypical Puerto Rican is being “too ghetto” or “too loud.” In a way, I can see this being true but usually to me, it is taken as a joke until I notice it out in public.

“Mom, can you please stop?”

“Stop what? Come on Nani, lighten up.”

“But you are being loud, and you got people looking at us like we crazy.”

I look around after saying this and instantly see all the eyes that were on us. It was kind of awkward and uncomfortable because I do not like to attract attention to myself.

“Man f*** them, la gente son presentao (People are nosy). And that’s not my fault.”

“Ooooookay,” I said rolling my eyes. I can sometimes feed into the idea of the stereotypes. I try so hard to not seem like a stereotypical Puerto Rican, when deep inside I know I am not. I do not care about what others think but when it comes to being judged because of my race and culture is when I take it seriously. For this reason, I tend to change myself depending on where I am at.

The main character in The Hate You Give, Starr Carter, experiences the same feeling of what it is like being stuck between two worlds. The author, Angie Thomas, talks about Starr’s desire to fit in when she wrote: “That means flipping the switch in my brain so I’m Williamson Starr” (71). “Flipping the switch” is something I do a lot especially when being in a place that represents the definition of professionalism or being somewhere where someone considers me as a stranger. “Flipping the switch” is like changing your whole demeanor. Many people say I tend to give off the idea that I am always mad or upset so in a way I try to do the opposite by changing my facial expressions and giving good first impressions. We all want to be viewed or noticed a certain way when in reality it won’t always work that way. In some situations, people can be seen as the target depending on where they’re from or what they look like and at times I can feel like this person.

Being around my family is when I don’t have to worry about how my culture affects anyone else, but this changes when I visit Puerto Rico. The people in Puerto Rico are much different than the Puerto Ricans here in Philadelphia. Since Philadelphia is filled with so many other cultures, I tend to shut myself out from my culture so people will see me and not my culture. In Puerto Rico, I don’t have to do this since everyone is mostly the same over there but it’s when I feel out of place or an outsider because I am not from Puerto Rico. I am from America and a part of the American culture. They have different traditions that I never learned or heard of and I speak more English than Spanish. Knowing more English is where I feel out of place the most, especially with family around my age.

Ta-Nehisi Coates, author of Between the World & Me has similar experiences to my life with the people around his age. He tries to understand a series of ideas he has developed about his body and the generation he comes from by saying: “Now I felt the deeper weight of my generational chains” (124). He digs deeper and understands why these “generational chains” have such a significant meaning. The generations we come from, are apart of our identity. We all want to feel accepted by the people we’ve grown up with and can relate to the most. When we don’t feel comfortable around these people, we can often tend to question who we are and our belonging. I remember speaking to one of my cousins and she did not know any English. I was able to communicate with her to the point where we can both understand each other pretty well. After our conversation, it really hit me that I don’t fit in as much there as I do here in Philadelphia. It made me feel good about where I’m from but also put me in the position that it doesn’t matter what culture I am apart of.

Being a part of two cultures can make someone wonder who they really are as a person. Being aware of the person I am can help me rely more on myself. I listen to my own opinions more often than others. I have an inner connection with both of my cultures that I have learned to use as an advantage, like being able to communicate with people who speak both english and spanish. I’m learning to fight the stereotypes that are chasing after me. I am learning to accept myself for the person I am and not care about those around me. I am learning to live in a world where both of my cultures coexist with each other and not having to shut one or the other out. Knowing who I am is a relief because I know how to face the challenges of who I am when the time comes. I know me.