**Content Warning: self-harm, suicidal ideation**
“The other side of grief is gratitude. The other side of grief is joy. The deeper the grief, the greater the joy.”
- Ate Leny Mendoza Strobel
Once, for too long, I believed my grief was irrational. Existing in excess due to my abnormal brain, subpar discipline, and feminine weakness.
During my 17 years in professional mental health treatment, I saw myself as they saw me. A young, able-bodied, verbal, cis heterosexual Asian woman.
I was infantilized. Ignored. Pitied. Mocked. Medically subdued. Held in rooms and behind locked doors-voluntarily and against my will.
Unseen in my totality.
***
While institutionalized, late at night, the older white head nurse charged into my room. Sitting on the bed, I backed away from the door as my arms and legs curled to cover my body. I turned my face and closed my eyes.
She laughed and said, "I'm not going to hurt you."
She demanded I undress, to inspect the wounds on my skin.
She made a disgusted face and said, "I don't understand people like you. How you can hurt yourselves. I'd never do anything like that."
***
My chronic suicidality felt isolating until I learned others with similar lived experiences have had similar thoughts and feelings.
“The prevalence of serious suicidal thoughts was highest among adults age 18 and older who report having multiple (two or more) race (6.9%)."
"Transgender people are twice as likely to think about and attempt suicide than LGB people."
"Autistic people have more than three-fold higher rates of suicide and suicide attempt than the general population."
***
I am those three groups in one person.
My multiracial grief is not belonging. Too American. Too exotic.
My Autistic grief is not belonging. Too weird. Too sensitive.
My trans grief is not belonging. Too non-conforming. Too variable.
As I considered how these identities are dehumanized by loved ones, strangers, and the government, I came to the conclusion that we are not inherently self-destructive. We live in a society that tries to destroy us by refusing to see who we are. It is not shameful to feel the pain of that cruelty.
* * *
I believe those with complex identities are uniquely attuned to injustice and the lifelong commitment to creating positive and sustainable change-not only for ALL *beings*, but also the air, land, water, and spirit.
As a descendant of colonized people and colonizers, I deeply feel and cannot ignore the urgency and responsibility to dismantle white supremacy.
As an Autistic person, I deeply feel and cannot ignore the need for respect of personal rhythm and accessible community care.
As a trans person, I deeply feel and cannot ignore the need for each person to be seen for who they are, and safe to be themselves.
* * *
I recognize how my light skin tone, proximity to whiteness, and class privilege enabled me to survive. I stayed alive to help others stay alive.
I create a safe space for myself, to help others feel secure. I value myself, so I can encourage others to welcome their own healing and contribution.
I believe it is the responsibility of the most privileged among multiracial, Autistic, and trans groups to see, listen to and uplift the messages of Black, Indigenous, nonspeaking, intersex, chronically ill, physically different, and multiply disabled members of our communities.
Because I have the ability to gather resources to sustain spaces of community care, I have a responsibility to do so.
I am a trained doula, "health coach", and mental health first aider, but I envision my future as a peer supporter.
Aside from relating to others in the ways I have already mentioned, I believe I can provide access to those who prefer personal one on one communication and/or variably paced text-based communication.
Those who lack parallel lived experiences of being multiracial, neurodivergent, and queer will never understand the extent of our struggles. And so, they will never fully appreciate the significance of our strengths.
No one else will celebrate us in the fullest ways we can celebrate us.
* * *
I am no longer ashamed of my grief.
It is not a personal, passive sadness. My grief is an inevitable reaction to living in my body-spirit in this world at this time. My grief is active, transformational rage.
Most importantly, my grief is compounded and collective.
It allows me to witness and validate others. To express: I can never understand completely, but I can relate. I can listen. I can work alongside you to build our collective joy and liberation.
I am sacred. I am natural. I am divine. We are sacred. We are natural. We are divine.*
*Author's note: I do not know who first said these words (and have tried to find out), but I have seen them repeated in our communities. If you know the origin of these phrases, please let me know, so I can give them credit.
Gabe discovered their transness and Autisticness during the pandemic, and are currently learning about decolonization and peer support. For more of their writing and resources, you can follow them on Instagram (@gabeneuroqueer).
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