On Grief

Reflections on personal and collective grief.

It feels contradictory to forge a new sense of value and foundation in life at a time when the end feels eerily around the corner for all of society. But it also feels like the appropriate time in history to come to an understanding of what it means, for me, to find a semblance of meaning in what feels like a perpetual existential crisis. As someone whose existed with the conviction I would not live to see 40 and have eagerly, or rather traumatically, existed with a productive urgency it brings relief to feel present with myself and those in my life. Though, it was never the state of the nation that granted me this ease. It was presence with others in our strife.

Being soft in a society that conditions us to harden in effort to “succeed” and “survive” is isolating. Being a lover in a heartless world is soul-crushing. Witnessing, experiencing, and processing death both as a child and now as an adult has taught me to value my life and those I share it with. The collective grief we’re experiencing has shifted my emotional, moral, and social core forcing me to confront the harm of the liberalism that exists within me. Addressing the ways in which white supremacy, patriarchy, and capitalism contribute to, and exacerbate, our emotional turmoil and free will has severed, strengthened, and created connections. It has also exposed layers of grief that have been dormant in me for years. Moving me away from nihilism and embracing the existential crisis of our human experience. Still, I am worn out by the narrative that lessons learned from death and grief are formative towards success and survival.

When a cousin passed away from a violent death when I was a teen, I lost a relative who inspired me to be silly and outspoken. With her death I lost my faith in religion, but found conviction in humanity and our ability to grow through and in spite of loss. When a close friend took his life as we supported each other through heartbreak, I lost a friend and a source of artistic and radical inspiration. With his death I lost faith in romance, but found conviction in community and its ability to change all of us. When my grandmother, who I had spent every weekend with leading up to her death, unexpectedly passed away I lost the source of my conviction and connection to my family. But I found the memories of her and the lessons she taught me, as with everyone I’ve lost, live on in my words and actions.

With all these losses of life, I maintained the will to live. I’ve learned from my relationships with family, friends, and partners how death shapes my outlook and my behaviors. Which, at times, results in over-communicating, projecting my pain, and struggling to end relationships with those who were unable to recognize my pain and support my healing. The deaths that haunt me spawned an overbearing savior complex in many of my relationships that is quelled by isolation and grief. Death and grief have always inspired me to keep thriving. But I am exhausted of channeling strength, acquired from traumatic emotions that come as a result of the neglect and harm of others, to survive in our unjust society.

Being an adult has taught me that no career path will provide us with safety and security. Wherever there are systems of power we will endure invalidation and a lack of accountability that will corrupt our lives and relationships. A relationship will not heal our wounds or give us clarity. Wherever there is unresolved trauma and pain we will experience disconnection and heartbreak that we’ll always have to process on our own. Not every community we engage in will provide us with empowering tools and resources. In a society fueled by hyper-independence and productivity we must actively work to listen to each other’s needs and learn through our individual strife what we all need and how to create supportive networks together.

I express myself not because I have it all figured out, but because I continue to be in community with folks who ask questions and seek answers which lead to care and comfort that validate our experiences. Because I learned from the folks I’ve lost what they were trying to figure out as they passed away in isolation and I also lost myself while questioning why they’re no longer here. Because hundreds of thousands of folks are losing their lives everyday while being isolated and many are trying to figure out why when the answers and solutions for change are within and in front of us. I’m no longer interested in success and survival. In all my grief, it was when I stopped asking questions and came out of isolation that I found a sense of peace and supportive communities.

Sitting with grief and being in solidarity with other folks has always healed my wounds and led me to the people who want to grow and change through actions. Words have always connected me with those people and communities. Words have always kept me safe and provided me with security. The words of others has brought me community, safety, and security in my humanity. I’m grateful for the life I live and hope to continue to share this world with folks who, on their own journeys, look to others for peace and solidarity with all of humanity through our words matching our actions.

Audre Lorde said “...unless one lives and loves in the trenches it is difficult to remember that the war against dehumanization is ceaseless.” I’m grateful for the folks who continue to use their voices to remind us that we DO need each other to remind us of our humanity. That those fighting for survival need our words and support to succeed. We will never evolve in isolation or progress through individualism. As we’ve always witnessed, those with power and privilege will continue to profit from our individuation and condemn us for solidarity. I’m grateful to exist amongst communities where I can process the injustices of our society, feel and be open with my emotions, and turn grief into action alongside folks who are actively seeking growth and change for all of us.