Honoring my Granny, Mrs. Addie Mae Wright

Black History Month is a time of reflection, remembrance, and honoring the resilience within our stories. I am using this moment to share my personal reflection on oppression and trauma as seen through the experiences my Granny, Addie Mae Wright, so vividly shared.

When we learn about African American history, we see it through many lenses. If we are not careful, those lenses can become clouded by the voices and beliefs of others, micro-aggressions, stereotypes, inherited narratives, and unhealed trauma. These influences, both personal and collective, shape our implicit biases. As a result, our awareness of the long-term effects of intergenerational trauma on individuals, families, communities, and systems can become skewed. But the reality is, many are and were impacted by intergenerational trauma caused by systems, attitudes, policies, and people.

When I reflect on intergenerational trauma, I remember stories that my grandmother, Addie Mae Wright (rest in heaven) shared with us. My granny was empathetic, compassionate, direct -while I mean “tell it like it is” -and fiercely loved her family, and we loved her more than she knew. She was dynamic, fierce, an intercessor, a prayer warrior, a nurturer, and our voice of reasoning.

As I sit writing this blog while living in Asia (an experience that I'm sure she never imagined I would have), I recall her stories about the dangers and traumas she faced, specifically trying to get an education, imagine desiring an education only to be denied because you were a little brown or black-skinned girl. She once shared a story that she was walking to school and someone through urine and feces on her. My heart tell breaks knowing what she faced so that generations after her could have different opportunities.

She often spoke of the hardships she faced as a child born in the 1920s. Imagine carrying intellect, value, and dreams, only to be denied because of when and where you are born and what you look like. As a child, I couldn’t fully grasp how these experiences shaped her narratives, emotions, and survival strategies that she carried in her mind, body, and spirit for years. Her experiences were the reason she pushed education and knowledge so persuasively for her grandchildren. I am glad she did.

As an adult and a therapist with experience in serving in trauma-informed spaces, I can now conceptualize my grandmother’s stories differently. I’m certain she likely never named them as trauma, but that’s exactly what she experienced. Having encountered stereotypes, micro-aggressions, and harmful narratives myself as a woman of color, I can finally grasp, through that lens, how deeply emotional pain, narratives of not being seen as “not good enough,” and being misunderstood in places where you are underrepresented can create years of intergenerational trauma that imprints itself across generations.

So how does one still walk in strength, power, knowledge, and promises while healing and becoming whole despite the intergenerational trauma, barriers, narratives, and micro-aggressions? It’s simple, GOD!

Before I found deliverance through the Word of God, I carried pieces of that trauma, too. I found healing through healthy attachment and love. I made a conscious decision not to let past inequities define my present. I share this not to criticize, judge, or harbor resentment toward any system or group. Rather, I hope to show how they lived experiences of a Black woman born in the 1920s can still impact generations.

Intergenerational trauma is hard. When left unhealed, it overwhelms and debilitates. Even when healing is sought, the impact just doesn't just disappear, it lingers in our minds, bodies, and spirits sometimes for years. It must be acknowledged because it is real. It can shape generations, spiritually, personally, emotionally, financially, and professionally. Personally, it has influenced who I am, how I move through the world, and who I will become.

I do not want to erase my grandmother’s history. Instead, I want to transform the impact of her experiences, stories, and even trauma into something hopeful and purposeful. I hope it brings healing to my family, my community, and myself. I want it to break emotional bondage, not continue it.

I want to boldly acknowledge, my maternal grandmother, Addie Mae Wright, was deprived of education, career opportunities, economic stability, and fairness as a young black girl born in the 1920s, I am glad she didn't allow that to define her. Yet despite these barriers, she found ways to thrive. She built a strong family and poured spiritual strength into her grandchildren. She always encouraged us to lean on the Word of God.

I honor her, my grandmother, Addie Mae Wright with my actions, accomplishments, boldness to walk in my Kingdom purpose without fear of being seen as not enough or having my valued questioned. I honor her through community engagement and service. I honor her by investing in others and in my calling as a licensed clinical social worker. I teach about intergenerational trauma, create safe spaces, and challenge stereotypes and micro-aggressions. I also acknowledge their real, lasting impact.

I honor her sacrifices with my accomplishments, compassion, healthy attachments, and love. I am committed to helping others thrive despite adversity.

I honor my hero.My love, she was my girl, Addie Mae Wright.

I hope and pray that intergenerational trauma no longer holds us hostage, but becomes a legacy of healing and unlocking wholeness, not a burden.

Thank you granny for your sacrifices so that I may have a different live.

I love you always! Your granddaughter, Qwanquita T. Wright, CEO Focusing on SELF