This essay was originally a series of journal entries written in December 2019, right before the COVID-19 pandemic began.

When I think of water:

I think of a story my mother told me when I was a girl. After death, a person must pay a fare to the ferryman to cross a river to journey onto the next life. For this reason, some Kwahu people are traditionally buried with a piece of gold in their shoes or mouth.

I think of the Miracle of the Swine, a Biblical tale of evil entities being cast out into the sea.

I think of the unsupervised swimming pool aboard a cruise ship that I could have easily drowned in when I was eight years old, and the aquaphobia that ensued.

Yet, when I think of the water, I think of the Olympic-sized swimming pool on a university campus in which I finally learned how to swim as a twenty-two-year-old college student.

With these associations in mind, it is unsurprising that I associate “trauma” with bodies of water.

Trauma is a uniquely painful and isolating experience that is unfortunately shared by many.[1] Trauma may occur after exposure to a single stressor or with prolonged biopsychosocial neglect. In her book, Building Resilience to Trauma: The Trauma and Community Resiliency Models, Elaine Miller-Karas further describes trauma as Trauma and trauma. [2]

In keeping with the water analogy, small bodies of water represent “small-t traumas”, such as minor accidents. In contrast, large bodies of water represent “large-t” traumas, such as interpersonal violence, natural disasters, and terrorism. [2]

The Boat

Too often, trauma begins in childhood. Over two-thirds of U.S. children experience a traumatic event before the age of sixteen. [3] Although near-drowning is a personal trauma of mine, it hints at a larger phenomenon. In the U.S., the rate of fatal unintentional drownings of Black children (aged 5-19) is 5.5 times higher than their white counterparts. [4] I can’t help but recall how Black people in the U.S. were banned from public swimming pools and other recreational areas in the 20th century[5] and the resulting stereotype and harassment continues in the present day.[6]

Trauma exists in space-time. Agency-reducing transgressions against one community that are perpetuated by peoples, institutions, systems, and nations can linger over time. A trauma so deep it spreads across generations; it is entwined in our history and embedded in our genes [7]. The historical traumas of Africana peoples are evident by missing voices, state-sanctioned killings, a dearth of natural resources, broken dreams, spiritual deaths, unfinished family trees, misrepresentation in the media, dying languages, poor health outcomes, and more. Historical trauma has impacted my ancestors, myself, and will likely impact my descendants as well.

I first encountered literature regarding the psychological implications of centuries of oppression in the African-centered Azibo Nosology, first published in 1989 [8]. Scholars like Dr. Joy DeGruy have expanded this body of work (see: Post Traumatic Slave Syndrome). [9] Historical trauma is so massive it eclipses the worldview of some communities, yet remains too large to focus on in others.

I recall a childhood trip to the Florida Keys. I sat on a glass-bottom boat floating in the strait. There, I caught a glimpse of biodiverse coral reefs and peered at the dynamic world below. I remember feeling surprised at the layers upon layers of complex ecological relationships. This environment was a universe onto itself and any internal or external changes produced ripples felt by us on the surface, a fluid exposome. [10] We try our best to float above it all and to leave those waters, that sea behind a glass.

The Anchor

Tornadoes, earthquakes, droughts, wildfires, hurricanes, and floods are examples of natural hazards*. Hazards become disasters when they exceed a community’s response capacity and result in widespread harm to life and resources. [11] Natural disasters are ubiquitous, yet diverse in their breadth, duration, destruction, and complexity. Similarly, the psychological responses to disasters are as diverse. [12]

When disaster strikes, we prepare, respond, and recover all while attempting to mitigate harm to health and the environment. [13] Yet, a disaster may appear without warning. Familiar spaces, systems, and communities are laid waste. In the aftermath, people are often physically displaced [14] and may feel unmoored. As a steel anchor provides stability amongst waves; people anchor each other. [12, 15, 16] For too many, a natural disaster is only an addition to a long list of traumas. A major part of recovery is building connections in moments when people are feeling swept away by the tides (see: the Friendship Bench [17]; Healing Hurt People [18]).

 *Disease outbreaks (i.e. COVID-19 pandemic) are another example of natural hazards.

The Island

At times when I think of trauma, I am not submerged in the sea, traversing rough waves, or rooted in one place. I have found refuge, dry land—an island. For some individuals, an island is a place to escape to; it represents restoration, rejuvenation, reformation, and recovery. Others may feel deserted on an island; island-dwelling becomes an experience of unwanted solitude. I believe the distinction between these two experiences lies in a difference in agency. Seeking refuge on an island has a different connotation than left behind on an island.

On the island, I wonder how to apply the flora and fauna around me. Preoccupied with stressors, memories, triumphs, and insecurities, can my needs be met with what is within my reach? When the support, funding, or patience runs out, what is next? Housing systems, public health infrastructure, educational facilities, social welfare, child protective services, and other sectors serve as islands.

I was a student in a “failing” suburban school district for the entirety of my primary education. For high school, I was bussed out to a magnet school in a more affluent and less racially/ethnically diverse neighborhood, with smaller class sizes and higher standardized test scores. My “college-prep” high school did not have a mental health professional on staff, a library, sport teams, or music education.

Reading, theatre, and other extracurriculars helped me cope with troubled waters. Perhaps these absences were due to a lack of funding, red tape, ignorance, or rigid board of education mandates. With adult eyes, I recognize that my high school struggled to meet my needs and the complex biopsychosocial needs of all students.

The Fisherman*

There are some traumas so familiar, they sit in the doorway waiting to welcome you. I am a first-generation Ghanaian-American Akan woman.  Africana people like myself, have experienced over 400 years of oppression.[19] The historical trauma that ripples across generations caused by the kidnapping of family members, extinguishing of culture, and plundering of resources is never far from my mind.

Many White folks have told me or my mom or my cousin or my grandmother or my ancestor or the friend I have not yet made, that we have a problem and they know how to fix it. In a graduate course regarding trauma, I observed a guest lecturer recount her first visit to Uganda and Kenya. Upon touching down on soil and exiting the plane she was amazed to see modern technology and whatever other erroneous assumptions she held were in stark relief to reality. If I were her, I would have turned around, boarded the plane, and returned to whence I came; she had no business there. Instead, she felt called to “help” the children she met by establishing and leading a music therapy program.

I was further distracted by the imagery; Black bodies literally served as the background to her presentation. ​​The final afront was when the lecturer referenced a famous adage with contested origins when describing the train the trainer model of her program—“give a man a fish, and you feed him for a day. teach a man to fish, and you feed him for a lifetime.” [20]

Did community members actually express an unmet need? Why is there hunger, when did it start? These are the sort of questions I wish the lecturer would have asked and answered before beginning her program. Perhaps before colonization and imperialism, there were spaces or practices that addressed this need, a need for healing from stress. Yet, a great number of these methods, rituals, songs, and spaces were extinguished by scientists, named primitive by anthropologists, and/or overwhelmed by colonization. In their absence, communities weaved a net of care and innovation to hold everyone together.

Although that lecture reminded me of many negative experiences, it also reminded me of the resilience of Africana peoples. That resilience carries/carried us far and one day I hope we no longer have need of it. The concept of resilience is nebulous. Resiliency is described as a personality trait, while resilience is a “process of maintaining positive adaption in the face of adverse life circumstances.” [21]  

The responses to stress do not fall within a binary (pathology versus resilience). An individual may experience distress, exhibit resilience, experience post-traumatic growth, or other responses. [21] The body of water that caused grief, pain, and bitter memories can also provide sustenance or growth—fish. Sometimes you gaze upon the water for only a moment and a fish appears. You may also capture a fish and have it slip from your grasp. At other times, you may sit and ponder day after day until finally a fish appears, yet it does not look as you expected. We are all fishermen of differing experiences and approaches seeking to sustain ourselves.

 *There are differing opinions [22] on the appropriate nomenclature for people who fish professionally. Although gendered, “fishermen”, is the term preferred by some women in this profession. [23, 24] Therefore, I use that term in this text.

When I think of trauma, I think of the ocean.

A great body of water with unfathomable depths. Insurmountable and mysterious, it is something that humans learn to endure. If you must face those deep waters again, then you will build a boat to traverse the sea.  If your boat leaks and capsizes, then at least you know how to swim. This time, you will swim knowing that dry land exists, and it may be closer than you think. You will eventually find refuge on an island or two. There you will find everything you need to survive. On the island, you look back at the water and the water looks back at you. In the reflection, you will find healing.

References

[1] Benjet, C., Bromet, E., Karam, E. G., Kessler, R. C., McLaughlin, K. A., Ruscio, A. M., Shahly, V., Stein, D. J., Petukhova, M., Hill, E., Alonso, J., Atwoli, L., Bunting, B., Bruffaerts, R., Caldas-de-Almeida, J. M., de Girolamo, G., Florescu, S., Gureje, O., Huang, Y., Lepine, J. P., … Koenen, K. C. (2016). The epidemiology of traumatic event exposure worldwide: results from the World Mental Health Survey Consortium. Psychological medicine, 46(2), 327–343. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0033291715001981.

[2] Miller-Karas, E. (2015). Building resilience to trauma: The trauma and community resiliency models.

[3] U.S. Department of Health & Human Services. (2020, April 29). Understanding Child Trauma. Retrieved May 29, 2021, from Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration website: https://www.samhsa.gov/child-trauma/understanding-child-trauma

[4] Julie Gilchrist, & Erin M. Parker. (2014). Racial/Ethnic Disparities in Fatal Unintentional Drowning Among Persons Aged ≤29 Years—United States, 1999–2010 (No. 63(19);421-426). Retrieved from Center for Disease Control and Prevention website: https://www.cdc.gov/mmwr/preview/mmwrhtml/mm6319a2.htm

[5] Wolcott, V. W. (n.d.). The forgotten history of segregated swimming pools and amusement parks. The Conversation. Retrieved May 30, 2021, from http://theconversation.com/the-forgotten-history-of-segregated-swimming-pools-and-amusement-parks-119586

[6] Chokshi, N. (2018, August 1). Racism at American Pools Isn’t New: A Look at a Long History. The New York Times. https://www.nytimes.com/2018/08/01/sports/black-people-pools-racism.html

[7] Lumey, L. H., Stein, A. D., & Susser, E. (2011). Prenatal famine and adult health. Annual Review of Public Health, 32, 237–262. https://doi.org/10.1146/annurev-publhealth-031210-101230

[8] ya Azibo, D. A. (2015). Moving Forward with the Legitimation of the Azibo Nosology II. Journal of African American Studies, 19(3), 298–318. https://doi.org/10.1007/s12111-015-9307-z

[9] DEGRUY, J. (2017). POST TRAUMATIC SLAVE SYNDROME: America’s legacy of enduring injury and healing. revised edition. JOY DEGRUY PUBLICATIONS.

[10] Vrijheid, M. (2014). The exposome: A new paradigm to study the impact of environment on health. Thorax, 69(9), 876–878. https://doi.org/10.1136/thoraxjnl-2013-204949

[11] Yonetani, M. (2012). Global estimates 2011:People displaced by natural hazard-induced disasters. Geneva: International Displaceme

[12] Goldmann, E., & Galea, S. (2014). Mental health consequences of disasters. Annual Review of Public Health, 35, 169–183. https://doi.org/10.1146/annurev-publhealth-032013-182435

[13] National Center for Environmental Health (U.S.). Division of Environmental Hazards and Health Effects. Health Studies Branch., & Analysis & Services Program. United States. Agency for Toxic Substances and Disease Registry. Geospatial Research (Eds.). (2015). Planning for an emergency: Strategies for identifying and engaging at-risk groups: A guidance document for emergency managers. Retrieved from https://stacks.cdc.gov/view/cdc/32996

[14] Kolmannskog, V., & Trebbi, L. (2010). Climate change, natural disasters and displacement: A multi-track approach to filling the protection gaps. International Review of the Red Cross, 92(879), 713–730. https://doi.org/10.1017/S1816383110000500

[15] Kawachi, I., & Berkman, L. F. (2001). Social ties and mental health. Journal of Urban Health, 78(3), 458–467.

[16] Thoits, P. A. (2011). Mechanisms Linking Social Ties and Support to Physical and Mental Health. Journal of Health and Social Behavior, 52(2), 145–161. https://doi.org/10.1177/0022146510395592

[17] Maanvi Singh. (2017, January 10). The Friendship Bench Can Help Chase The Blues Away. In Goats and Soda: Stories of Life in a Changing World. Retrieved from https://www.npr.org/sections/goatsandsoda/2017/01/10/508588401/the-friendship-bench-can-help-chase-the-blues-away

[18] Overview. (2019, November 8). Center for Nonviolence and Social Justice. https://drexel.edu/cnvsj/healing-hurt-people/overview/

[19] Hannah-Jones, N. (2019, August 14). The 1619 Project. The New York Times. Retrieved from https://www.nytimes.com/interactive/2019/08/14/magazine/1619-america-slavery.html

[20] O’Toole, G. (2015, August 28). Give a Man a Fish, and You Feed Him for a Day. Teach a Man To Fish, and You Feed Him for a Lifetime – Quote Investigator. Retrieved November 13, 2019, from Quote Investigator® website: https://quoteinvestigator.com/2015/08/28/fish/

[21] Evans, A., & Coccoma, P. (2014). Trauma-informed care: How neuroscience influences practice. London: Routledge.

[22] Branch, T. A., & Kleiber, D. (2017). Should we call them fishers or fishermen? Fish and Fisheries, 18(1), 114–127. https://doi.org/10.1111/faf.12130

[23] Sweet, S. (2017, April 27). Why Women Who Fish Are Still Fishermen. Retrieved November 13, 2019, from The Walrus website: https://thewalrus.ca/why-women-who-fish-are-still-fishermen/

[24] Welch, L. (2019, May 29). What do fishermen like to be called? It’s not “fisher.” Retrieved November 13, 2019, from Alaska Fish Radio website: http://www.alaskafishradio.com/what-do-fishermen-like-to-be-called-its-not-fisher/