Inheriting The Silence

I’m shaped by the stories of those who came before me. Growing up, I didn’t fully understand that the stories of my ancestors—both spoken and unspoken—were forming my identity. The stories that shaped them—the ones they voiced and the ones they silenced—found their way into my life nonetheless, directing my perception of the world, my choices, and my fears. It’s not always a story that told; often, it is found in absence, in silence, in what is left behind and what is deliberately left unsaid. I observe how silenced hurt and trauma resurface across generations and time. I think about what it means to inherit this silence and how it is both a shield and a burden—how it protects but also erases. Now, as the next link in the generational chain, I wonder what I carry forward to my child and beyond. Am I able to protect my child? Is there even a way to protect, a way to heal past traumas, a way to shield him from the mix of hurt that is passed down and exists in the present? I hold my child and wonder how much of myself—my past and the present world around me—I can silence to protect his future. Is it even the right choice, to keep inheriting the silence? Dedicated to my son Levi, who makes it all matter.

I’m shaped by the stories of those who came before me. Growing up, I didn’t fully understand that the stories of my ancestors—both spoken and unspoken—were forming my identity. The stories that shaped them—the ones they voiced and the ones they silenced—found their way into my life nonetheless, directing my perception of the world, my choices, and my fears. It’s not always a story that told; often, it is found in absence, in silence, in what is left behind and what is deliberately left unsaid. I observe how silenced hurt and trauma resurface across generations and time. I think about what it means to inherit this silence and how it is both a shield and a burden—how it protects but also erases. Now, as the next link in the generational chain, I wonder what I carry forward to my child and beyond. Am I able to protect my child? Is there even a way to protect, a way to heal past traumas, a way to shield him from the mix of hurt that is passed down and exists in the present? I hold my child and wonder how much of myself—my past and the present world around me—I can silence to protect his future. Is it even the right choice, to keep inheriting the silence? Dedicated to my son Levi, who makes it all matter.