In 2018, I was invited by Native American elders to travel to Canada to facilitate the first Canadian/American collaboration to heal historical trauma. As my friend Dr. Anthony Pico of the Viejas Band of Kumeyaay Indians says, "Historical Trauma is the father of ACEs and the twin to addiction." It was a mission to understand and facilitate a new perspective in working with ACEs. Upon our arrival at the Centre for Addiction and Mental Health (CAMH) in Toronto, we were greeted by Dr. Renee Linklater (author of Decolonizing Trauma Work) and a beautiful medicine woman. After being saged and cleansed in one part of the facility we were joined in the conference room. As I entered the room, the medicine woman, and I held a long embrace and I felt a surge of power and connection through my body. I sat for several minutes struggling to focus and wondering if she had felt it too. When lunchtime finally arrived, she asked me to step aside with her. When we did, she explained that as we hugged, she saw gold flecks of dust emerge from my body, swirling through the air, and she told me a story:
Back in the 1970's we held a meeting with all the local medicine people. In the middle of the meeting, an African elder came in, dressed in his traditional regalia, unable to speak English. Through a translator he said, "Our people are lost. In time, they will come to you and you can help them return home. We need you to hold space for them because they will come." The beautiful medicine woman said to me, "Welcome, I've been waiting for you all of this time."
I identify as a tribal African woman. According to the great work of john a. powell, (he purposely uses lowercase letters in his name to represent the humble perspective that we are part of the universe, not over it), prior to the 17th century and the invention of whiteness, there was a lot more racial contact and intermingling than what we experience today in the Americas. As egalitarian, tribal people, regardless of our traditions and cultural ways of being that are unique to all indigenous people, we enjoy a lot of commonality. When I am not in Mother Africa, I feel at home among the First Nation people of North America and I feel a very special connection among the Diné. Being in Navajo Nation is like a reprieve or sacred retreat from the Western world. I always have the most insightful, spiritual drive and enjoy the delight of spirit whispering in my ear.
Last week, we delivered a PACEs training in Navajo land. My focus was to teach PACEs science, with a strong emphasis on historical trauma, through as much of a Diné lens as possible. In the West, we often believe that we have discovered the beauty of being trauma-informed and that it is a new way of being. As egalitarian people, each person in the community is equally important and it is our responsibility to help when we are needed. We view people from a salutogenic lens, seeing them as perfect, whole and exactly as they should be. In many of our communities a child is nursed, loved, nurtured and corrected by many caregivers. Prior to capitalism, growth and expansion, the way we washed clothes, walked to fetch water, and many activities of daily living created opportunities for neurological regulation. For the Apache, when they returned from war, prior to rejoining their community, they performed a specific dance and song, which was their very effective way of debriefing after experiencing trauma. When we consult a medicine person or elder for counsel, they know just the right prayer, story, cadence, volume and tone of voice to calm our sympathetic nervous system. The ideology that we call trauma-informed is built into the foundation of indigenous culture.
My greatest prayer is that soon, every tribe will have their own trauma specialists to deliver trainings without the disruption of an outside influence. In Indian country, my job is to remind community members that I am only there to help them recall the great ancestor wisdom they have always known. Last week, during the training in Navajo Nation, we had about 70 people, 2 of whom were medicine people. After lecturing for two days, finally, when I asked a question, a medicine man in the room was eager to answer. I grabbed a chair and sat at his knee. He told the most vivid and beautiful story of healing. I had worked for two days to earn the gift of his wisdom. In the 10 minutes that he spoke, we all received the true medicine. I refused to speak another word after his. I thanked the participants. Elders hugged me and cried because the training was an answer to their prayers. And I immediately ended the training because we must always remember our place.
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