You are currently viewing Unforgettable: Vicarious Trauma of a Black Girl: Part 1 (Trigger Warning)

Unforgettable: Vicarious Trauma of a Black Girl: Part 1 (Trigger Warning)

I was naive, my world a bubble. Which prompted a perception that my parents abandoned me because they were “always at work”. Going to school embarrassed because I didn’t have new shoes, and wore all of my sister’s hand me downs. Provisions made, my parents had a plan for us, a better future, wrapping and sheltering us, believing in good people.

They wanted better for us, so they worked. They wanted us to have opportunities they never did as children. We spent much of our time being raised by our village. Some of these members were perverted. Some of these members didn’t have our best interests at heart. Some of these members felt us a burden, and treated us as such. I became angry. Why were these people rejecting us?

A sunny day, riding slowly down a residential street in that ugly green caravan. It’s back window was busted and never repaired since the accident, closed with some discolored hard substance. We heard police sirens. Surely they weren’t stopping us. Police only stopped bad people and “speeders”, and ma was moving painfully slow down the street. But, she stopped anyway.

My mom was slammed to the ground, her head pushed into the pavement, as her babies screamed from the driver window, her arm injured from the excessive force. They took her and stuck her in a cop car, and proceeded to escort her babies to another one. At 5 and 6 years old, a little black girl and her big sister sat in the back of a cop car in chained seat restraints. A victim of racial profiling, my mother was never really vindicated. I didn’t realize it then, but my perspective of life was forever changed…

Unforgettable: Vicarious Trauma of a Black Girl is a memoir blog series I decided to write as a tribute to all of our lost stories, the things that were too painful to talk about for so long, the things we’d rather count blessings, than struggles. “The elephant in the room” is often a phrase used to suggest a big problem that is so awkward, people would rather ignore. From my perspective, that elephant, is the struggle incurred from misrepresentation of my people (African Americans). But we are #elephantstrong because we continue to be blessed  and flourish despite the circumstance. I hope that this blog encourages you to share your stories and break the stronghold of those past traumas. We must create, not beg others to move on our behalf.




Hello lovelies! I'm your designer De'Andria. Thank you so much for visiting Love, D. Jenee, I hope you leave her loving YOU even more. Let's start with freeing up your style/aesthetic. I experience freedom through artful expression. In dance, conceptual art, poetry, and activism!

Leave a Reply