Reclaiming Grief

Each of us, at some point, will have suffered a loss, a bereavement, a disappointment or a rupture at a deeply personal level. Similarly, as activists, we navigate many instances of grief. We grieve when we lose leaders, community members, colleagues and loved ones. We grieve for all the ways we are marginalised, dehumanised and mistreated; and for the injustice caused by oppressive systems. We grieve the potential and love that we have lost out on or might never experience. There is grief anchored in oppression and trauma, ancestral grief and trauma, and grief for any harm we might have caused.

Our grief, while painful, is an integral part of the healing process and can contribute to a deeper sense of wholeness. It helps us process loss, adapt to new realities, and ultimately find a new sense of meaning and connection. Grief can also reveal hidden parts of ourselves and connect us with others in shared experiences of sorrow.

Grief is a complex process – a journey that affects everyone differently and has no set pattern. Cultural beliefs and traditions, for example, have influenced the interpretation, attitudes and management of grief across time. Psychological and social constructs further shape dominant narratives and practices of grief, which, in turn, shape how each of us thinks about and approaches grief. Moreover, we each experience different complexities of grief, and our capacity to engage with it in multiple contexts and at different times can be very different.

Many of us may have an aversion to grief, but this aversion might be rooted in fear. For some of us, we fear that if we allow ourselves to surrender to our grief, we may drown in it. However, the cost of not going there, of abandoning our grief, means that we travel a superficial road and miss out on what we reclaim when we create space for our grief and sorrows.

Approaching grief

White supremacy, capitalism and patriarchy are ideological and structural systems that both engender and reject grief. Yet, as humans, we are hardwired to accept death, loss and change as natural parts of life. Death, loss, endings and change are a natural part of every life cycle. Our bodies will die. Our organisations will die. Our movements will die. Likewise, the specific conditions that oppress our families and communities will come to an end. At the same time, grief belongs. It is not a burden. Loss is simply an element of change.

While these phenomena deepen our relationship to loss, they are often deeply uncomfortable. Each of us has to navigate grief and confront natural loss as well as repeated and generational, traumatic losses fueled by inequalities.

In a world of “getting on with things” – a world that demands clear linear explanations and a culture that often encourages us to avoid the depths of emotions – grief can be perceived as inconvenient, as it can be both boundless and timeless. Yet, our unprocessed and unexpressed sorrows, our congested stories of loss, when left unattended, block our access to the fullness of ourselves. Conversely, at the collective level – in the context of widespread death and suffering from diverse causes – grief is a form of reliving, remembering, pain, loss and struggle, and thereby accounting, the violence inflicted. Grieving thus becomes political mourning, a mode of meaning-making that creates space for increased political activity after loss, mobilising and utilising our collective grief as a political tool of social change.

Hence, claiming our grief, whether individual or collective, is an act of resistance. It allows us to develop more fluid vocabularies of hope and loss as we navigate a spectrum of emotions, find strength in resilience, and discover new meaning in the face of our losses.

Different forms of grief

Grief can take many forms because loss has many faces. While a Euro-American worldview often prioritises individual expressions of grief, it is important also to acknowledge the social and political contexts that shape loss and mourning and to acknowledge that grief can also be a response to relational breakdowns as well as systemic issues like oppression, violence, or injustice, not just individual suffering. To do so acknowledges a need for collective mourning and systemic healing, challenging the tendency to privatise grief, and thereby ignoring its broader systemic complexities.

• Grieving a bereavement/loss is often the most talked about, and therefore, the best known form of grief. Indeed, there is no right or wrong way to grieve, and the grieving process is a multi-faceted one that includes a wide range of emotions, from shock and disbelief to anger, guilt and profound sadness. Physical symptoms can include fatigue, sleep disturbances and changes in appetite. Behavioural changes can include difficulty concentrating, withdrawal from social activities, and changes in routines.
• Grieving a breakdown or loss of a relationship is less talked about. The process can be similar to grieving the death of a loved one, with stages like denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. When grieving the loss or breakdown of a relationship, it is important to feel all the emotions that arise, seek support from trusted friends, family, or a therapist, and to prioritise self-care.
• Grieving for past versions of yourself, often called “self-grieving”, is a natural part of the healing process whenever we experience significant personal growth or change. Self-grieving helps us acknowledge and honour the person we once were, recognising the value of our experiences and lessons. The process of self-grieving involves us looking at the different emotions we may hold about our growth and change, making it easier to accept our current selves and move forward with greater peace and understanding. Self-grieving may also happen when we have to work through unresolved feelings and emotions related to past traumas, relationships or life events. By acknowledging and processing our past, we can gain clarity and perspective, allowing us to embrace the future with greater confidence and adaptability.
• Grieving persisting oppressions and the state of the world is a complex process with lasting psychological and emotional effects. It’s a way of acknowledging the pain, loss and trauma associated with these experiences and can involve sadness, anger and intrusive thoughts. Grief over oppression can manifest as a “historical trauma response”, leading to various mental health challenges like depression, anxiety and self-destructive behaviours. It’s a crucial step in healing and working towards change, but it’s also important to recognise that grieving is not a linear process and can be ongoing. Those of us with multiple marginalised identities may find ourselves moving between grief and rage. We are likely to navigate rage and grief about all the “isms” that seem to engulf us, about inequality and poverty, for the disregard, the neglect, the silencing, the despair. Our experiences of moving between grief and rage can also be a toxic freeze on the inside: when the brain and body systems simply shut down into an interior slow suck of depression and numbness. In whichever direction one moves, it may be the one survival tool we know because of what we learned early on. It may seem like the only line of attack in the face of pain. We experience this because we feel so vulnerable. We may wail and storm, cry or be dumb and perhaps numb, collapsing from the sheer immensity of feeling.

At the individual level, we have to find ways to tend to our own emotional healing so that we can continue moving in the world. However, grieving can also be a form of resistance and a way to advocate for social justice and change. Collective grief can foster a sense of community and solidarity among those who have experienced oppression and discrimination. Engaging in advocacy and activism can be a powerful way to express grief and work towards positive change. Remembering and honouring the experiences of those who have been affected by oppression and violence is important for promoting healing and justice.

Denying grief denies humanity

“Espinosa-Jones makes it plain: “Grief knows what it’s doing.” Grief is wise and ancient and knows what to do. When we interrupt grief’s processes, or ignore them, it can lead to apathy, addiction and unhealthy forms of anger. What loss hates most is to be ignored.” Malkia Devich-Cyril

Allowing ourselves grief confirms our worth. We are worth crying over, and we deserve to cry. Our losses matter. We claim grief because it is not a disease that we need to get over. Instead, grief is a response to a hugely transformative event that irrevocably changes those who experience loss.

We have to pay attention and reject the white supremacist paradigm of control, productivity, and getting it together and neglecting our personal and collective need for healing and wellbeing. Asking us to get on with it not only denies the value of what we have lost but also silences our ability to express and acknowledge what we have lost.

As we claim our right to grief, we have to notice dominant narratives about grief that turn gaslighting into an art form, convincing us that it is safer to deny grief than to feel it. At every turn, we are persuaded that grief is a wild, unacceptable emotion that must be handled, managed, overwritten and hidden.

These systems of inequality that have ‘normalised’ particular approaches to grieving, reject what Espinosa-Jones calls “a relational culture”, a culture of noticing and acknowledgement. A culture of acknowledgement in grief refers to creating an environment in which the experience of grief is recognised, validated and supported. This includes actively acknowledging the pain and suffering of those who are grieving, rather than trying to minimise or dismiss their emotions. It also involves allowing people to grieve in their own ways, without pressure to “move on” or “get back to life” prematurely.

Moving away from isolated, individual expressions of grief

“If our future is to be the loving, caring, and just world we’re fighting for, our healing must be as interconnected as our freedom.” Scalawag: grief & other loves

Moving away from individual expressions of grief doesn’t mean suppressing our individual emotions. It is instead about finding healthy ways to process grief individually and with others. It’s also about finding a balance between acknowledging the pain and isolation of loss and allowing accessible ways to reintegrate into daily life, while also fostering a sense of community and shared experience.

Author and grief activist Francis Weller suggests that oppression forces individuals, communities and generations to view the processing of grief as an individual responsibility. He argues that ​“the psyche knows we are not capable of handling grief in isolation”. Much of the grief we carry is not personal, but shared and communal. Denying our shared grief, shutting it down and not being able to speak about it openly uses up a lot of our energy and thus interferes with our ability to feel fully connected to life and other people.

Sharing our grief is what my good friend Liepollo Pheko calls the “solace of solidarity”. Grieving collectively is more than just grieving for the same loss (like those caused by an event or occurrence). It is also about showing up for one another and creating spaces where we can hold each other’s tears, vulnerability and confusion, tenderly and fearlessly. For example, “crying circles” or collective mourning rituals offer a structured way for groups to acknowledge and process grief together. They provide a container for expressing emotions, fostering a sense of community and shared experience. They can even lead to action and hope beyond the grief process. This type of solidarity calls for a different level of presence and hearing (with empathy). In other words, it requires embodied hearing that allows us to mirror each other’s pain, see each other’s pain and hold it. It means we acknowledge that there is no monopoly on loss, that we weep with each other: “at this moment, my tears are on loan to you”.

The ability to grieve with others allows us to stay present and bear witness, rather than allowing ourselves to retract and close down our hearts to the world. By tapping into the collective, we acknowledge that we all experience grief, sometimes simultaneously, and yet we can show up for each other because, rather than despite, our grief.

Actively responding to grief

“Grief can be the garden of compassion. If you keep your heart open through everything, your pain can become your greatest ally in your life’s search for love and wisdom.” Rumi

One of the hardest things that we as activists and human beings must do is turn and face the parts of ourselves that hide from the world and confront the intensity of our losses. In other words, what goes beyond the closed doors of our hearts? What are we grieving for?

It takes courage to feel our grief and respond without judgment, and with empathy and compassion, so that, even in our numbness, we do not lose touch with our values. We must accept that our own bias and pain can sometimes cause harm. Shutting grief down can lead to profound levels of dissociation, and if left unattended, may find expression in the external world when we don’t expect it and often in unhelpful ways. It can find expression in our inner lives, often impacting our personal and collective health and wellbeing.

While grief might be the impetus to create more just systems, not making space for, and integrating our grief, trickles down into our work and politics, and may become blurred by our own experiences of powerlessness and disempowerment. Such unintegrated experiences might lead us to rescue, fix, control or protect ourselves and others rather than creating spaces and communities that can hold grief and discomfort, trusting in its transformative potential. This level of work is neither easy nor trivial, and the level of commitment needed for it cannot be overemphasised.

As we expand a broad awareness of grief, we learn to approach our grief and the grief of others without judgment. On the other hand, becoming aware of our grief, reaching out for professional or peer support, and owning our grief journey can open our awareness until we see grief that we didn’t even realise existed. We practice the art of accompaniment without casting any part of ourselves out. It is also important to acknowledge that grief can feel overwhelming, and therefore, we often believe that being with our grief must be an intense experience.

But the opposite is often true. When approaching our grief, we can do so in small, gentle ways and bear in mind that grief is a process and will not happen overnight.

“Simply touching a difficult memory with some slight willingness to heal begins to soften the holding and tension around it.” Stephen Levine

As we do the work of healing, we’ll find that our grief comes in waves, and while the pain lessens over time, the grief never fully goes away. We do inner work not to isolate and protect ourselves from suffering and grief but to be able to connect with and hold each other in our grief, to create communities of care.