Why I Write About Generational Trauma
Every once in a while I like to take a step back and look at my work as a whole and see if I can identify current themes that seem to be infused in my writing. There are almost always a few I can pick out. For instance, every single one of my stories written in the past two years includes some element of generational trauma and its long-term affects on family systems.
Generational trauma transcends individual experiences to shape the very core of family histories. Generational trauma, or the idea that traumatic experiences can be passed down through generations, has a profound impact on individuals and communities alike. It makes for a rich story foundation for this reason, and allows me to really dive deep into my characters—their behaviors and the beliefs that motivate them.
Generational trauma manifests when the aftermath of significant historical or personal events continues to echo through subsequent generations. From the scars of societal upheaval to the repetition of abuse in individual homes, these experiences leave an indelible mark on familial legacies. Addressing generational trauma is not only an exploration of the past but an essential confrontation with the present, understanding how history influences our identities and relationships in our current, every day lives. Its influence is undeniable, so I’m most interested in exploring what that looks like and how we can all relate with and understand it.
Beyond the academic discussions and clinical perspectives on the importance of discussing generational trauma, acknowledging it exists at all an act of collective healing. By approaching familial pain, we (hopefully) are able to create a way for understanding, empathy, and ultimately, breaking the chains of silent suffering. If I do nothing else in this life, not only for my family but for as many others as possible, I hope that my stories—and my very life—exist as one example of facing traumas and creating new paths moving forward.
Fiction, as a unique lens through which we view the world, gives us a less threatening way to consider what it means to be human, especially when we’re wanting to explore heavier and often painful themes related to the past. Without the weight of discussing actual events or connections in our families, we can explore everything that comes along with them, by placing the story onto fictional characters. That distance allows us space to look at it in a way we might not otherwise have the capacity to. I can’t get over how powerful that is!
I think more than any other art form, writing can allow us to really look at ourselves, and everything that made us who we are. As writers, we invite readers to step into the shoes of characters, experiencing their struggles and victories in a visceral way. This immersive journey fosters a deeper understanding of the characters' motivations and, by extension, the impact of generational trauma on their lives. It’s not just an understanding of the characters, either. In many instances these understandings transfer to our real lives as well because our defenses are down. It’s the beauty of good art.
As I navigate these themes in my work, I don’t want to just tell a compelling story. It’s my hope that, in confronting harder things, we can collectively contribute to the healing and transformation of the generations that follow. My characters don’t always have happy resolutions to these issues, but it still benefits us to read even those stories, because that’s true to life, isn’t it?
Regardless of the outcomes in our fictional worlds, I think the exploration of things like generational trauma offers hope. At the very least we see that we’re not alone. We learn that our struggles—and the struggles of our families—have some universal qualities to them. Ultimately, that means we’re all much more connected than we might imagine, and I can’t think of anything negative that comes from recognizing and accepting that we really are all one.
