Inherited Pain, Chosen Healing

Over the past few years, I have immersed myself in the journey of uncovering my family history. As I listen to the stories shared by the elders, I find myself noticing the echoes of personality traits, gifts, and mannerisms that live on through generations. There’s a tender joy in recognizing how my sister, father, and I share a smile that seems to reflect a shared experience and a profound connection. It’s as if our laughter resonates with the same joy, capturing the essence of our presence together.

Yet, this bond also reveals the shared sorrows and challenges that we carry. The impacts of racism, segregation, exclusion, and trauma have intricately woven their way through our lineage, leaving marks that resonate within our very DNA.

I remember when I first noticed my keloid. I felt a wave of distress and shame wash over me. It was as though I had to hide a part of myself. With every scratch, I wrestled with the fear of whether it would lead to another keloid, always seeking ways to obscure it. A serious scratch, borne out of a trivial incident I’ll recount at another time, became a prominent reminder of my struggle. Each time I encountered someone new, their curiosity about the scar deepened my own insecurities.

But then, a realization began to unfold. My grandmother had keloid skin, too. In acknowledging this inheritance, I recognized that to deny my skin was also to disconnect from her legacy. As I delved deeper into this understanding, poetry began to emerge within me. I reflected on the lessons and stories I had gathered from my family. The keloid transformed from a source of shame into a meaningful emblem of my heritage. I am part of a legacy that extends beyond my own existence.

Exploring the nature of a keloid, I learned that it is an involuntary response to trauma—the skin overreacts, resulting in raised scars and inflammation. This reflection caused me to consider how individuals, when treated as less than human, can experience wounds that, when left unaddressed, may heal in ways that are visibly abnormal.

Instead of running from these wounds, perhaps it is time to embrace the journey of healing together. I have discovered that those very places where I have been scarred and subsequently healed have often become the areas from which I can offer support to others.

Let our scars serve as reminders not of our pain but of our resilience, a testament to the fact that we are still here, imbued with hope. After healing, we may find ourselves in a unique position to be a light for someone else navigating their own journey. After we heal, we can be uniquely positioned by God to be the light to someone else.