Black Healing Matters: A Series on Internal Trauma

This article was originally posted on UrbanCusp.com. It appears here as a reprint with permission.

In every struggle for justice, our focus on the external work of resistance, must always be equally matched by an awareness of how the battle is impacting us internally. It means that we realize that in fighting against oppression, some of its violence may have gotten on us, and seeped inside to become an unconscious part of how we see ourselves and treat our loved ones.

This week I introduce a series featuring the voices of women and men who raise questions about the internal state of African America as we do the work of resisting racism. In this series we’re talking about what happens when we get tired (and in this state of emergency), if being tired is even allowed? We write about accessing the spiritual and communal power that is in our hands, and we break the silence over hurts that have been forced underground for far too long. The essence of our work in the words we share is to offer something that helps us do the ongoing work of healing…even as we fight.

Lessons

There are some forms of violence that are really good at teaching lessons. They’re so egregious that you don’t even have to be the one in trouble, for you to learn the lesson. The amount of force demonstrated against Black bodies reminds me of this.

Every time a new video shows up detailing a police related incident in which a Black person is blatantly disrespected, severely harmed or killed; it reminds me of the spectacular ways that disfigured, lynched Black bodies taught the lesson.

Whenever we hear of another Black person losing their life as a consequence of an encounter with the police, the news is made real by the release of a cell phone, dash or vestcam video capturing their last moments alive.

These violent and traumatic deaths are immortalized and held up for all to see in public space, in much the same way that lynched bodies were held up in public gatherings for all to observe that this is what happens when you step out of line, resist, or dare to assume your right to simply ‘be.’

The interweaving of race and police force is nothing new, but social media’s capacity to broadcast it widely adds another dimension to its ability to traumatize communities.

We are responding to this trauma (for better or worse) through marches, vigils, riots, prayer, strategizing, organized advocacy, counter-cultural social media campaigns and education reform.

Even still there’s one front (perhaps the most important one) that I notice going unattended: home.

What are we doing to take care of the minds and souls that step up to the challenge every time we activate resistance day in and day out?

Where do we hurt and how is that hurt manifesting itself in-house in the African American community?

Ain’t nobody got time to think about that…

True.

But, if we win the battle what do we really have to celebrate when we return home to find our relationships, families and institutions empty and devoid of love?

Have we asked if close contact with the evils of racism has affected our ability to provide safe spaces with one another? In the fight to resist, have we taken on the tactics of those who oppress us?

We cannot afford to allow this moment in history to only be about the changes we demand of others. In a time when we have to speak up about police brutality, we have to be equally vigilant about intimate partner violence, family violence, sexism, homo/transphobia, child abuse, neglect, good/bad hair, light and dark skin, (temporary) haves and (disproportionate) have nots.

In the middle of #BlackLivesMatter, #SayHerName is a powerful reminder that traumas like what we’ve been facing for generations blur the line between our inside selves and the outside tactics we practice for survival.

We have to re-establish the threshold that separates our here, from the world out there.

Re-drawing that line allows us to remember that love does not make us weak, nor does it make us naïve. It keeps us accountable, during times like now when the impact of racialized oppression threatens to divide and deplete us. Love is resistance.

If we don’t learn this lesson, we will allow racism to distract us from the very thing that we fight against it so hard for – the right to live in a way that reflects our self-worth, dignity and God’s positive regard for all of humanity (including Black humanity).
- See more at: http://www.urbancusp.com/2015/09/black-healing-matters/#sthash.DXb4PC0y.dpuf

Black Healing Matters: Breaking the Silence on Male Sexual Assault

This article was originally posted on UrbanCusp.com. It appears here as a reprint with permission.

“With Badge In Hand”

There is a part of the movement for Black lives that is clearly focused on the survival of Black males. We are indeed concerned with what our brothers, fathers, sons, friends, lovers are experiencing as a result of racism. But, if we’re really going to do the work of helping the males in our communities heal, we have to not only battle against racism, we also have to break the silences in-house about some very painful places where our boys and men are hurting.

Patriarchy insists that to be male (to be a man), is to be invincible. Racism suggests that to be black and male is to be both threatening and invincible at the same time. These are the kinds of myths that prevent us from seeing the vulnerability of boys and men who have experienced sexual assault, and whose healing is even further complicated by racist ideals about the threatening nature of Black male embodiment.

This week Detective Kevin D. McNeil dismantles the stigma that prevents us from seeing and caring about the pain that males who have experienced sexual assault have been forced to hide for far too long.


Kevin D. McNeil
When it comes to violence toward women and children we need an extreme case or a celebrity offender before we have a conversation about abuse. And most of the time, we don’t believe it unless there’s some kind of picture or video proof because we don’t want to admit that abuse is happening every day. The majority of abuse cases have no videos. There are no press conferences. For the majority of victims there are people like me, a Special Victims Detective.

As a Special Victims Detective, abuse is a subject matter I know all too well. I interview abuse victims. I spend hours listening to little children recount how they were sexually molested by someone they trusted. I have walked into hospital rooms and examined the dead bodies of children who were killed by parents. I spend relentless hours putting together court cases that place suspects in jail. I take pride in getting justice for abuse victims. However, there is one victim I still have not been able to vindicate. That victim is me.

When I was just fourteen years old something happened to me that would change me forever. While walking home from a friend’s house I was kidnapped and sexually assaulted by an unknown adult male. After sexually assaulting me, the man straddled my bruised body, placed his hands around my neck, and began choking the life out of me. As I grasped for air all I could think about was my family.

I quickly thought about the concern and worry they would have for me if I came up missing. I knew I did not want to die this way so I fought back with all the strength my little frail body and bruised ego could muster up. I finally broke the man’s grasp, jumped up, and ran as fast as I could toward the open highway. The only thing that stood between me and death was a barbed wire fence.

I leapt over the fence and almost ran into the busy highway. Cars slowed down thinking I was some crazed person trying to commit suicide. Once the man noticed cars slowing down he decided to run in the opposite direction.

Grateful to be alive, I began my long walk home. My mind raced, “How would I explain to my mother coming home hours past my curfew wearing only a pair of muddy pants?” I thought about the embarrassment I would feel telling my family that my first sexual experience came from a man who forced me to do unimaginable things.

As a fourteen year old boy who already had self-esteem issues this would be the hardest thing I ever did in my life. I was so worried about what people would think about me, that I never pondered the severity of what had just happened.

The fact that I was almost killed or that I was sexually assaulted never crossed my mind. All that mattered to me was how I would look to my family and people who would hear my story. So when I finally got home I told my mother a lie. I told her that some boys in the neighborhood attempted to rob me but I got away. Since we lived in one of the roughest neighborhoods this was not difficult to believe. My mom offered to call the police but I told her it was not necessary.

The next day I went to school like nothing ever happened. In fact I spent the next three years playing high school football in the same stadium where my assault took place. Very few people know what happened to me that night, including my mother.

Every story of sexual assault is different, but the feeling of having to “move on” while hiding what happened is common. Kevin’s process of “moving on” has been a long one, in which he found a way to work through (rather than deny or avoid) the pain by taking a strong stand to help others.

The man who raped and tried to kill Kevin was never found, so his 14 year old self never saw the kind of accountability that he has dedicated his life and career to seeking for others in his work.

Every day that he shows up, speaks up, and does the intense work of tracking down people who use violence to harm others is another day added to his own healing, faith, resilience and strength.


When he’s not on the clock, Detective McNeil is hard at work as a motivational speaker, author, and consultant who focuses on empowering “individuals to recover their true, authentic selves and live out their life purpose.” Find him on Facebook at KevinMcneilBElieve.
- See more at: http://www.urbancusp.com/2015/09/breaking-silence-sexual-assault-pt-1/#sthash.9ypSUZH2.dpuf