One of the biggest core wounds I’ve had to heal is doubting myself. Perhaps, it stems from generational trauma: a burden earned from my identity as a Black Muslim woman in North America. I can remember from the time I began grade school that I had in innate need to excel. And this need was driven by a passion to be accepted, to be validated in ways that perhaps my ancestors could not have for themselves. My mother would constantly remind: “You have to work three times just as hard as the next person. Why? You are black, you are Muslim and you are a woman. You are the most hated thing this country has ever seen but never let that deter you from your destiny.”

Memories like these haunt me as I sit in spaces of people dripping of privilege. While I cannot deny my own privilege (having the means and intellect to read, write and work in well-known and established institutions), I cannot deny the trauma experienced from having my hopes and dreams seemingly mitigated by shields of disadvantage. And believe me: I am not the only one. What say you of those whom have been wrongfully incarcerated; having their rights stripped away? What say you of working-class families, whose parents did not have the opportunity to send their children to private schools, colleges and universities? Or immigrant families, forced from their homes into a spaces where they are unwelcomed, ostracized from society as the “other”. We live in a society that separates us not only by color, but by class through means of mental acuity, physique and economic standing.

For those of us whom are deeply empathetic to the struggles of others, we often ask ourselves “what can I do to help”? Its quite admirable honestly; even with our own innate feelings of unworthiness, we still stand for others. But even this can be a trap. How can one untether themselves from their own trauma through fighting for anothers? I must be candid and ask- who will stand and fight for yours? Nevertheless, it is often through this cyclical cycle of seeking healing externally that God grants us the wisdom to finally be able forgive ourselves in ways that we never could before. Our stories are just stories: a culmination of memories, experiences and perceptions all charged with the task of bringing us to your depths. Of helping us understand ourselves. And perhaps…perhaps through this revelation, one finds the strength to look in the mirror and accept who they see. Beautifully so, as time has proven through hearing each others stories, staring at familiar and unfamiliar faces and images, visiting spaces that reminds of us of home, reflecting on the uniqueness of each of our stories—we somehow find healing.

I don’t claim to know everything, in fact I believe that I barely know anything at all. But what I am sure of is that through seeing the humanity of one another, we build systems of healing. I know that through supporting works derived from intrinsic truths, we project strength that allows for others to stand in their own authenticity. I’ve witnessed how beautifully and intricately interconnected we are to one another and how this connection is proof in a greater Divine being that ties us all together.

We all have healing to do. We have generations of trauma, of withstanding pain, of quietly allowing injustice to breed resentment within our being. From these passions given to us from The One we are called to a higher purpose of embodying the righteous qualities that exists within God Himself. We are called to a higher purpose of breaking illusions–helping one another, being kind, reminding one another who we truly are. We are called to a higher purpose of experiencing this existence. Of experiencing humanness, of experiencing Him. Be sure that your experience is one that is well-worth the journey.