Lansing/Landing

I write this page both as a prologue and an epilogue. It is a framing tale, a landing page, both beginning and end, the starting place as well as the questions I still take with me as I leave.

I am a PhD student at Michigan State University now. Oklahoma is behind me, and when I left, it was with the bittersweet knowledge that I may never go back permanently. But I am an Oklahoman, and will always be an Oklahoman. I was not always proud of this, but moving to Michigan, I realized how much Oklahoma means to me as my home.

This piece was a process of discovery for me. I've studied trauma for several years now, and I always knew that I was drawn to trauma because of my life experiences. However, I've never fully articulated them, instead studying other people's trauma rather than my own, even as studying trauma has helped me understand myself and come to terms with who I am. This project provided a space for me to speak my trauma. Some of the stories are old for me; I've told and retold them many times and am comfortable with speaking them. Some stories I have only spoken to a select few, and they are more painful to write and share. I have not gone into detail for many of the pieces, instead trying to describe in general terms what happened to me and why it is painful.

In a study on women who wrote about their post-rape traumas, Elissa Brown and Richard Heimberg found that increased detail in traumatic writing was "associated with decreases in both social anxiety and dysphoria," but also that "rape victims may have to be willing to share their stressful experiences to experience symptom reductions" (788). Essentially, they found that women had to be in a position where they felt comfortable sharing details of their traumas in order for the writing to alleviate symptoms; those who did not feel comfortable sharing still experienced symptoms.

Based on this study and my own personal comfort levels sharing certain traumas, there is a lack of detail in some of my experiences for several reasons. Some of my stories implicate and judge other people, and I do not want to give them more power than they already have over me by speaking their names and their actions. Some of my stories are still too raw and painful for me to tell fully, and I cannot bring myself to share more than I have here. Some of my stories I do not fully remember, and so I give to you what I do know.

While I refuse to speak the names of those who have abused me, I want to consider the powerful words of Jacqueline Jones Royster and the importance of creating space to hear all voices. In "When the First Voice You Hear Is Not Your Own," Royster writes that much "depends on the ways in which we talk and listen and talk again in crossing boundaries and creating, or not, the common ground of engagement" (1126). It is impossible for me to silence my abusers, literally or figuratively. They are part of me, and their actions are part of my history, however stifled they may be at any given moment. In order to engage here, I have decided to name only sources of hope for me. These voices include my cohort (Kate, Elise, Hannah, Stephanie, Shewonda, Erin, Kristi), my mentors (Danielle, Alex, Bill, Chris, Susan, Jim, and so many others too numerous to name), and so many amazing friends (Evin and Michelle in particular).