dancing through depression
Mental Health Therapists are well versed in Trump-anxiety: the worries, fears, ruminating thoughts, hyperarousal, pain, and insomnia that plagued majority of the country during the 2016 campaign. We saw it in our clients, discussed it with peers, and likely went home and experienced the same symptoms. As a woman of color, a child of immigrants, raised in a middle income home, a clinical social worker educated in social justice, feminist theory, human development, trauma, and oppression, I felt a deep sense of concern with where this country was heading.
Fast forward a few months to November 2016, when Trump-anxiety turned to Trump-depression, a manifestation of our grief, loss, and traumatic stress. Trump supporters enjoyed mocking this experience, after all, this is the party who proudly encourages "political incorrectness," uses slogans such as "F#ck Feelings" and continues to name-call social justice activists things such as "snowflakes" and "sore losers". I don't expect this name-calling to change, since name-calling is a classic form of self-protection and defensiveness. A behavioral symptom known to therapists as a sign of insecurity and pain. Therefore, I make a daily vow to work hard to manage my Trump depression by honoring my grief and sense of loss, accepting my pain, and acknowledging my racial trauma.
Some weeks are tough though, such as this week: just today I read about Trump referring to immigrants as "animals," later defending his statement that the comment refer to a gang comprised of immigrants. This is the same man who referred to the KKK as a group of "many good people" --- a disgusting gang of racist murderers with a shameful history. Then, earlier this week, a white male representative from Trump's political party attempted to silence a female representative of color as she talked about discrimination. Also the Chief of Staff casually suggested "it would not be cruel" to rip children of color from their parents to place them in foster care. Name calling, silencing women of color, ripping children of color from the arms of their competent parents...we are not living in "post-racial America," no, no this is Racist America, the same America it's always been. And we need to heal from our pain, our trauma.
I find myself reading, then re-reading news stories, ruminating on my thoughts, replaying racially traumatic experiences, hyper-focusing on social situations, questioning the intentions of others, and eventually feeling exhausted, hopeless, and isolated. This is my experience with Trump-depression. And it sucks.
Earlier this year, I knew I needed a healthy outlet for my Trump-depression, an outlet that did not include eating junk food and scrolling through social media, an outlet that did not include engaging in name-calling, an outlet that effectively honored my needs.
I stumbled upon a dance class and had very little hope that I would enjoy the class. I have not had great experiences taking dance classes, since dance often requires precision, grace, and most of all, dance requires vulnerability. As I looked around the room, women and men of all sizes, shapes, ages, ability levels, and skin colors danced joyfully to fun, loud music. I knew I found a new home, a place I would grow. As we all danced together, we allowed ourselves to feel vulnerable and connected, flawed and imperfect, and most of all, joyful. Since then I have attended this class regularly, and gain more than just physical exercise. I gain what I believe is needed in this world right now, I gain a deeper sense of community to diverse groups, connection to others, connection to my mind and my body, the courage to allow myself to feel vulnerable through movement, and the creativity to express myself in ways I find empowering. Dance has a long history of empowering oppressed groups to connect courageously and creatively to their community, and I am honored to do my part to continue this healing tradition.
So as we power through the next two years of an administration hell-bent on traumatizing communities of color, LGBTQI, immigrants, women, lower income, and religious minorities. Let's keep dancing. Let's keep dancing with our various courageous communities, finding our connection, allowing for creativity, and empowering us to remain hopeful, heal our pain, and find our purpose.
Fast forward a few months to November 2016, when Trump-anxiety turned to Trump-depression, a manifestation of our grief, loss, and traumatic stress. Trump supporters enjoyed mocking this experience, after all, this is the party who proudly encourages "political incorrectness," uses slogans such as "F#ck Feelings" and continues to name-call social justice activists things such as "snowflakes" and "sore losers". I don't expect this name-calling to change, since name-calling is a classic form of self-protection and defensiveness. A behavioral symptom known to therapists as a sign of insecurity and pain. Therefore, I make a daily vow to work hard to manage my Trump depression by honoring my grief and sense of loss, accepting my pain, and acknowledging my racial trauma.
Some weeks are tough though, such as this week: just today I read about Trump referring to immigrants as "animals," later defending his statement that the comment refer to a gang comprised of immigrants. This is the same man who referred to the KKK as a group of "many good people" --- a disgusting gang of racist murderers with a shameful history. Then, earlier this week, a white male representative from Trump's political party attempted to silence a female representative of color as she talked about discrimination. Also the Chief of Staff casually suggested "it would not be cruel" to rip children of color from their parents to place them in foster care. Name calling, silencing women of color, ripping children of color from the arms of their competent parents...we are not living in "post-racial America," no, no this is Racist America, the same America it's always been. And we need to heal from our pain, our trauma.
I find myself reading, then re-reading news stories, ruminating on my thoughts, replaying racially traumatic experiences, hyper-focusing on social situations, questioning the intentions of others, and eventually feeling exhausted, hopeless, and isolated. This is my experience with Trump-depression. And it sucks.
Earlier this year, I knew I needed a healthy outlet for my Trump-depression, an outlet that did not include eating junk food and scrolling through social media, an outlet that did not include engaging in name-calling, an outlet that effectively honored my needs.
I stumbled upon a dance class and had very little hope that I would enjoy the class. I have not had great experiences taking dance classes, since dance often requires precision, grace, and most of all, dance requires vulnerability. As I looked around the room, women and men of all sizes, shapes, ages, ability levels, and skin colors danced joyfully to fun, loud music. I knew I found a new home, a place I would grow. As we all danced together, we allowed ourselves to feel vulnerable and connected, flawed and imperfect, and most of all, joyful. Since then I have attended this class regularly, and gain more than just physical exercise. I gain what I believe is needed in this world right now, I gain a deeper sense of community to diverse groups, connection to others, connection to my mind and my body, the courage to allow myself to feel vulnerable through movement, and the creativity to express myself in ways I find empowering. Dance has a long history of empowering oppressed groups to connect courageously and creatively to their community, and I am honored to do my part to continue this healing tradition.
So as we power through the next two years of an administration hell-bent on traumatizing communities of color, LGBTQI, immigrants, women, lower income, and religious minorities. Let's keep dancing. Let's keep dancing with our various courageous communities, finding our connection, allowing for creativity, and empowering us to remain hopeful, heal our pain, and find our purpose.
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