What We Carry

March is Women’s History Month. March is the month I became a mother. Since then, it has become a time when I naturally reflect on my own identity as a woman. While sitting in my car, waiting for my clothes to dry in the laundromat, one of my birth grandmothers came into my spirit. I didn’t meet her until I was in my early twenties because she didn’t raise my mother. The more I observed and learned about her, the more acutely aware I became of her own unresolved grief.

​Her story is marked by profound loss. She lost her first child after leaving her daughter with a paternal relative to work away. When she returned, they were gone. Later, she gave two more children to their fathers, unable to provide for them. There are so many losses across the spectrum in those decisions, too many to name on both sides.

These losses resonate beyond my birth grandmother's story. It is not uncommon for women—especially Black women who have been conditioned to lean into resilience—to leave their grief unacknowledged. That avoidance often shows up in ways that can go unnoticed or excused away. They might notice unexplained pains in the body. They may experience difficulty establishing and maintaining healthy relationships. The effects often go beyond the individual, having a widespread and lasting impact.

Grief that goes unaddressed doesn’t disappear; it travels, often across generations. It can show up in our relationships with friends, family, partners, and self. This month, or at a time of your choosing, I invite you to take some time to reflect on your own story. What are you carrying? What do you want to hold on to and what do you want to leave behind? 

What will be your legacy of healing?