Dear Laila Rae,
I love you.
This year I am writing your letter on your actual birthday. I am sitting looking out the window at the snow falling and feeling a sense of peace at the beauty and quiet of a snowfall. Everything slows down and I can just and be still. And while I appreciate the ability to sit and be, I feel a sense of deep sadness over missing your birthday for the first time ever. We celebrated over Zoom and I was able to sing you happy birthday and watch you disassemble your cake, that I did not help create. Your birthday this year feels like most of the past year. A lot of reflection, stillness, joy, and love, compounded with deep sadness and feelings of loss.
So many have lost so much in the past year. My feeling of the past year is one of grief. Grief over the lives lost due to Covid-19. Grief that our nation seems unwilling to heal the racial inequity and instead it turns towards denial. Grief over widespread and unfounded conspiracy theories imbedding itself into our collective psyche. Grief over an attempted government coup. Grief over the small things I have been unable to do because of the pandemic. Grief over the things I have been forced to do because of the pandemic. But my deepest grief has been over the death of my dear friend, Maria.
I’ve realized I don’t handle grief well. I like to problem solve and find ways to overcome challenges, and I tend to see grief as a challenge. I’ll sit with my grief for a short period, but don’t have the patience to allow myself to grieve for extended periods. Often my grief turns to anger. Anger is easier than grief. It is easier to stay angry and the state of the world, to stay angry at those who believe in harmful conspiracy theories, and it is much, much easier to stay angry at Maria than allow myself to feel the weight of my grief.
I believe that anger has its place, as do all our emotions, and anger is a powerful motivator for change. But I no longer think that anger brings about lasting change. I now think in order to create the lasting change needed, in the world and in ourselves, we have to honestly grapple with a painful past. Once America is truly honest about our past, and acknowledges the compounded consequences of our past, then we might start to grieve over our history, and then we might be able to begin to heal. And then we might create real change and possibility for all peoples.
The first letter I wrote to you was right after the 2016 election. I felt like our country had changed overnight, I was shocked at what I already knew, but had never been forced to confront. Today, over 4 years later, I feel hopeful that our country might finally begin to be honest about our history, that we might finally begin to learn and grieve and heal, but I’m not sure we are ready for that pain. I fear most of us will be like me, and choose anger without ever creating space for grief.
It might seem weird to people that I am spending so much time talking to a 7 year old about grief. You know there is so much I admire about you, and today I admire how you feel all of your emotions. Our society tries to tell us what emotions are okay to have, and which are not okay. Some feelings are classified and bad, some neutral, and some good. Most of us inhibit many of our feelings, and when we deny our feelings, we move into defensive spaces. Often we never fully process our emotions, and I don’t believe this is healthy for us, or our relationships. There is actually a model used by psychologists that is called the Accelerated Experiential Dynamic Psychotherapy that explains this concept in depth. Most of it is over my head, but what I have gathered is the importance of allowing ourselves to fully step into our feelings, and then we can process, and move to a place of healing.
I am trying to learn to accept all my feelings, and all the feelings of others, as a core part of me, of them, and then to reach a place of peace and also strength. When we allow ourselves to fully sit with our emotions, we also learn to love ourselves better. Laila, you have not yet been jaded by the world. You scream when you are mad, you cry when you are sad, you laugh when you are happy, you shower the ones you love in hugs and snuggles. You live each day fully immersed in your emotions and most important of all, you love yourself. You have so much confidence in yourself, and that self-confidence trickles into confidence in the people you trust. You lean on others when you need support. You ask for help when you need help. You tell us you can do it yourself when you can do it, or just need to figure something out on your own. If only more of us humans could move through the world like you (I started to type maybe with a little less screaming, but maybe what we need is a lot more screaming) then I would have even more hope that we might one day create the world I imagine for you. Ibram X. Kendi tweeted, “No you won’t recognize America when power is shared, justice lives, and equity between groups is the norm.” In 2016 I promised you I would “fix it.” I dreamt big dreams for you, but I also had an idea we had to return to something I understood as better and normal. But today, my dream for you is an America I no longer recognize.
I want an America that looks like you, in all your many identities.
Love,
Aunt Whitney Rae
