Anniversaries 

the new world trade center behind me as I walk to my doctor’s office

Today is a new anniversary for me. With everything I’ve been seeing on my newsfeed about the Katrina 10th anniversary, and being in rehearsals for an important anniversary ritual on September 11, I wanted to share some thoughts. Anniversaries are important. Even anniversaries of trauma. These anniversaries are not celebrations of the trauma, nor assertions that things are now back to normal. Things will never be back to normal. Horrible things happen. Human beings are capable of horrible things. But we are also resilient. We survive, we continue to live and risk and love anyway. We heal. We participate in and even facilitate each other’s healing. I don’t like the adage, “what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger,” because it implies that strength comes from near destruction. We are born strong. So it is simpler than that- what doesn’t kill you doesn’t kill you. You keep going. Our bodies naturally tend toward healing. So do our hearts. Remembering the trauma is acknowledging the healing.

On Saturday I remembered how it felt to see my home torn and left to bleed out. I also remembered how it felt to hold a binder full of emails from strangers in Chicago willing to open up their homes to me after I fled there. How it still feels to be in a room full of people who share my hometown and understand its complexity. Today I remember the car accident I had while moving out of New Orleans into New York. It’s slammed into my memory the way that all traumas are. But that trauma was also followed by the kindness of strangers and friends, a new rooting of my life, and healing of my body.

Next Friday I’ll remember the day that devastated my new home, joining with New Yorkers through my art, honoring the lives lost, and praying for peace. Healing can not happen without grief, and grief can not happen without remembering. These anniversaries are about remembering the injury and honoring the healing. When I remember these days, I grieve for what is lost, and I celebrate human resilience.