Generational trauma, often referred to as intergenerational or transgenerational trauma, is a complex and profound issue that extends the impact of traumatic experiences beyond the individuals directly affected. This concept describes how trauma experienced by one generation can be passed down to subsequent generations, influencing their psychological and emotional well-being. In the context of sexual assault, the ramifications of such trauma can be particularly severe, affecting not only survivors but also their mothers and other family members.
When speaking about my mother, she was the type to shield me from the outside world. Limiting my experiences as a child to venture on my own, if I could go out it had to be under the watchful eye of a relative. In high school, I felt like I had the freedom of a middle schooler. In early college, I felt I had the freedom of what a high schooler should have. My mother shamed my choices, looks, weight, hair, clothes, and even my skin. Even now I get criticized for how I look. I’m not sure how much of that came from her mother trying to protect her. My mother said when she was young, she had to be home before sundown and was yelled at if she looked at a boy too long.
This repression influenced my behavior when it came to dating. I never felt validated by my parents because I felt like I was never good enough for them. It does not mean I do not love them and they do not have good moments. My childhood was full of them. Birthday gifts, McDonald’s ice cream cones, and coming into their bedroom when I felt too scared to sleep by myself and they never complained. However, something was missing and my parents did play a part in it. My reckless behavior when it came to dating, I wasn’t allowed to date, so I had to lie when I went out. I went out with the guys and went into their cars and bedrooms and I didn’t know their last names half the time. People would tell me that it was dangerous, but my unhealthy mindset did not care. Feeling validated for an hour was worth the risk. It sounds pathetic, but I truly believed (and sometimes still believe) that I’m not worth it and a disgusting creature.
The night I was assaulted, I told my mom I was going to a friend’s birthday party (which was partly true). I went to the party first, and told that friend that my cousin needed me to pick her up because she was drunk (best excuse I could think of). I went off to the guy I wanted to see. There were a lot of red flags that night and I was left naked in a hotel room with my mother calling my phone and I forced myself (still intoxicated) to drive home just because I did not want to be yelled at. Other than wanting to take back the night, I wish I had a different mother. One I could tell I’m staying at a friend’s house and would be cool with it. One who called me beautiful and didn’t say I looked crazy with my curly hair down.
I never told my mother about my sexual assault, I do not want to be blamed for it. I do not want to hear her cry and say that she was right for keeping me repressed all these years. I wish I could say my mother would support me, but I can’t say that she will.
Maybe I will be a mother someday. I hope I can educate my children to protect themselves without repressing them. I’m currently on the path to healing and to be strong. My mother is someone I love and she is a wonderful person, but generational trauma led her to repress me the same way she was repressed.