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How silence, conformity, and small acts of fear can grow into forces that destroy lives—and generations.
“The problem with Eritrea,” explained an Eritrean friend who has left the country, “is that half of my friends are in prison and the other half put them there!”
I'M NOT A POLITICAL PUNDIT. I'M A THERAPIST AND A recovering bureaucrat. But as a therapist, I've seen the aftermath of trauma in ways that can't be ignored—the kind that leaves scars on both the body and soul. I've seen blood on people before it's dried, seen evidence of torture laid out for documentation. I've had nightmares where I run toward the scene of a violent attack as others run away from it. Ta-Nehisi Coates, in writing about racism, said it best: “But all our phrasing—race relations, racial chasm, racial justice, racial profiling, white privilege, even white supremacy—serves to obscure that racism is a visceral experience, that it dislodges brains, blocks airways, rips muscle, extracts organs, cracks bones, breaks teeth.” I extend this visceral reality to fascism—it destroys more than just societies; it destroys souls and bodies. Each act of political violence ripples through generations, leaving traces in both flesh and memory.