My Grandmother's Hands: Racialized Trauma and the Pathway to Mending Our Hearts and Bodies

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As well, the author leads us to examine intergenerational trauma—traumatic events that affected parents and grandparents.

And to me, what you speak into that, very concretely — you say, “We tried to teach our brains to think better about race” — which makes sense; it felt like that was a good idea. But it didn’t take us — we tried to work on it in terms of ideology and public policy and politics. Fifth, he introduces new terms such as “dirty and clean pain” and “the soul nerve” and while it’s not necessarily bad, I felt it was completely useless and seemed like he was trying to hard to make up something new for some reason. I was so excited to read this book and really wanted to like it. Unfortunately, it really missed the mark for me. While the author has a clear writing style, I felt that so many points were repeated over and over again in an unnecessary way. Almost like the author didn’t trust his readers so understand the points. I really liked that this book attempted to take a deep look at trauma and how important it is for us all to work through it. I completely agree with it. I think that was the saving grace of this book as it is what he spends a majority of the book on. Beyond that, I have many complaints.

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Tippett: You have this image in your work that part of our civilizational work, our national work, our political work, is to each of us settle in our bodies in a new way. And then the image that I love is that we have to settle in our bodies together, collectively. His few chapters that provide breathing and grounding exercises are helpful, but 1) I cannot divorce the rest of his harmful perspective from these suggestions and 2) you can find information on those breathing and grounding exercises elsewhere without subjecting yourself to pro-cop and policing rhetoric. Journaling is often recommended as a way to process some of our contemplations, reactions and after-affects. The depth of the embodiment work here is a disappointment, rarely exploring further than insights like 'antiracist leaders should find a signature garment to wear to inspire solidarity'. An important concept is how trauma can spread between bodies, termed “blowing” trauma through another person, using varying degrees of abuse, control and violence. This phenomenon often occurs as a result of triggers, in a spontaneous manner, which are considered unintended, and thus may be rationalized after the act. This spread can occur in families as well as among strangers.

Menakem: So one of the things about the animal part of the body is that even though me and you are in this room — this nice place— there’s a part of the body that’s saying, “Yeah, but what else is gonna happen?” And the reason why — especially when I’m working with bodies of culture, one of the first things I have them do is orient; orient to the room, not orient in the mystical way but actually literally. Because many times the bodies of culture are waiting for danger. Even though you know nothing’s behind you, letting the body know it actually helps some pieces. Now, if you get reps in with that, not just do it one time or just when I tell you to, what you may notice is that you have a little bit more room for other — literally, for other things to happen that can’t happen when the constriction is like that. This adds such an important somatic lens for anti-racist conversations and work. I highly recommend this book for white people, as the exercises and suggestions helped me feel out the white supremacy my body holds and figure out regular practices that can help weaken or release it.

My Grandmother’s Hands is a call to action for all of us to recognize that racism is not only about the head, but about the body, and introduces an alternative view of what we can do to grow beyond our entrenched racialized divide. Menakem: That’s exactly right. That’s why what you see now is like the flower of the seed of that. That’s what you’re seeing right now. And so when you say little things, the body hears, “Yeah, that’s right. They ain’t human.” The book is divided in 3 parts. The first part is pretty much Resmaa Menakem stating the same thing over and over and preparing the reader for what his book is going to be about. I found this to be unnecessary and a waste of time. I just wanted him to get to the point. There was no need for him to mention multiple times what books he wrote, what TV shows he's been on, or how his brother is a police officer. It was extremely redundant. Menakem: Exactly. Flaying, whipping — here’s the thing. Land theft, enslavement, imperialism, colonialism, genocide — all of that. My Grandmother's Hands is a beautiful, thoughtful, though provoking, painful growth/hope engendering book.