Member-only story
My Trauma Style
How I Handled My Pain
As someone who has experienced multiple traumas in her life, I know my fashion and styling choices were a reflection of my emotional and mental state.
It began with the passing of my uncle when I was a pre-teen. I was around eleven years old when my uncle died. He was my mother’s favorite (and only) brother. My Uncle lived down the street from us and would visit often. One day, we learned from one of my uncle’s children (my mother’s niece) that he was dead.
My mother was grief-stricken. My brother and I were sad but didn’t know why. When we attended the wake and saw our uncle lying cold and still in a casket, that’s when it struck me. My Uncle was gone. His body was cold to the touch, empty of the happy spirit that was my uncle.
It was my first time experiencing death, and I was not too fond of it. My young mind went into shock, and I associated death with the color black (everyone was dressed in black at the funeral). So, it was many years before I would wear the color, opting for bright, lively hues.
There was also the trauma of poverty. Growing up, we lived in a large three-bedroom apartment in the Dorchester section of Boston. It wasn’t a lousy apartment except for the mice, the roaches, and the neighbors.
