Breaking the Silence: Healing from the Legacy of Jim Crow
Dearest Reader,
I had the most fascinating and heartbreaking conversation with my uncle recently. He showed us a photo of the house he was born in and shared stories about growing up during the Jim Crow era. I won’t share his full story, that’s his to tell. One detail shook me to my core: as a toddler, he was called “alligator bait.” Hearing that still affects him to this day, and honestly, it’s been sitting heavy with me ever since.
That conversation got me thinking about how much we’ve been taught to suppress our voices just to survive. For so many of us, silence has meant safety. As a businesswoman, I’ve often wondered why it feels easier and sometimes safer to stay in the background, letting others shine while we hold back. My family and I talked about how common this is in our community and how damaging it can be to keep everything bottled up.
Even when I see people on Instagram or giving TED Talks, there’s often this sense of holding something back. It’s like there’s always a layer of protection, a need to stay safe. Artists often have their work as an outlet. I’ve been able to express myself through writing. But it was not until recently that I felt free to write my heart out. For years, I was afraid of someone stumbling across my words and judging me. That fear of being seen runs deep.
I’ve been thinking about how we use words like “dignified,” “sophisticated,” and “reserved” to describe ourselves or others. I wonder if, sometimes, those words are just a cover for staying silent. How many of our stories go untold because we’re trying to stay safe? How much of our truth do we keep to ourselves?
Why We Hold Back
Even when we’re visible—on social media, in leadership roles, or in creative spaces—there’s still this instinct to hold back. On my podcast, so many guests have shared stories they’ve never told before. It’s powerful, but it also makes me wonder: how much are we still hiding? And why?
Safety is still a big deal in our community. We might call it being “introverted” or chalk it up to imposter syndrome, but I think it’s deeper than that. Dealing with racism and bigotry takes a toll. It shapes how we move through the world, and how much of ourselves we’re willing to share. We might dress it up as being classy or keeping it together, but underneath, it’s often about survival.
When I was training to become a coach, I learned about a chart that helps people identify the emotions behind their reactions. For example, anger is often a mask for hurt. That got me thinking: is our reserved, dignified demeanor sometimes masking fear? Is it about staying silent to feel safe?
Breaking the Cycle
My uncle’s story reminded me that this isn’t just in my head—it’s something deeper. It’s generational, passed down from my parents, grandparents, and beyond. But recognizing it is the first step to breaking the cycle.
I’m choosing a new path for myself. I’m showing up fully, expressing myself without holding back. It’s not always easy—it can feel uncomfortable—but I know I’m undoing years of conditioning. When I share my truth, I’m not being “too much.” I’m healing wounds that go back to the Jim Crow era, wounds that live in my DNA and have been passed down through generations.
By embracing my voice and my truth, I’m not just freeing myself—I’m honoring the people who came before me, those who couldn’t speak up even when they wanted to. And I hope that by doing so, I can encourage others to step into their own truth too.
With Love,
Monica Wisdom
