Good Mourning, America: United in Grief
On the heels of Independence Day weekend, we, as Americans, experienced the connective tissue of unity. Celebrations throughout the country showed families holding cookouts in the park, flags hanging from doorsteps, and fireworks coloring the air with red, white, and blue. For a moment, despite our political differences, we are resolute in the founding ideals of liberty. 248 years later, those ideals are the subject of today's culture wars as head into the general election: What and who represents America? Yet, we have not asked ourselves as a nation the most looming question: how have we changed since 2020?
The year 2020 is emblematic of our social readiness for a troubling decade. As we experience collective déjà vu with the contentious rematch between President Joe Biden and Donald Trump, the 2024 election season will likely resurface anxiety, violence, and chaos that dominated our lives. Anxiously, many of us sought shelter in nostalgia or completely disassociated, seeking refuge in escapism and entertainment. Some became embroiled in their pain, believing that conflict can heal their suffering. The FBI reported that in 2020 hate crimes reached a 12-year high. Guns, also, told the story of 2020: from the January 6th insurrection to the deaths of Breonna Taylor and others, to the over 22 million firearms purchased in one year alone. If guns are emblematic of our sense of safety in times of distress, then we must express our pain in times of healing. We are not at war with each other; we are at war with our pain. First, we need to name it publicly: grief.
Grief is more than a loss of a loved one; it is anytime we experience the loss of normalcy. In America, we treat it as taboo, regulating it to the private sphere where only a therapist or clergy-person can assist. As such, grief becomes individualized and lonesome, yet the crises of the 2020s have been a collective struggle, fracturing the worlds we knew by disrupting the ordinary — our routines and rituals. Thus, my organization Conversations by Courage will host an art-based public memorial called Poetic Pause on July 20th at Key and Cleaver, starting at 7pm (register here). Memorials allow us to heal and reflect upon the past. With poetry as a guide, this event provides a space to heal and mourn. We invite participants to bring artifacts that symbolize their experiences of grief and healing. This event is part of the larger "Re-story U.S." initiative and is proud to be included in the World Design Capital San Diego-Tijuana program. To recover, we must become a nation of mourners and organizations can play a role in uniting us in grief:
1) Public Healing Campaigns
Despite the aftermath of the pandemic, there has been no national appeal to grieve. As such, we returned to work and school, expected to ignore, pretend, or dismiss our need for aftercare. Campaigns that promote mourning, rest, and dialogues can build morale and strengthen bonds.
2) Expand paid leave benefits
Currently, there is no federal policy on paid bereavement leave. The Center for American Progress reports that 3 in 4 (76 percent) private sector workers do not have access to paid family leave. With only five states with bereavement leave laws (including California), it is time we provide adequate and comprehensive bereavement support for all workers. Additionally, expand leave to cover losses like of a pet, extended family members, friends, or miscarriages, or even divorce.
3) Offer flexible work arrangements and life counseling
When we recognize that every crisis causes pain, we begin to expand our coverage to support our people in transition. Following the aftermath of loss, flexibility is key. Organizations can use crisis transition plans to adapt and onboard employees and students back into work and school. Moreover, counseling services can address the side effects of the crisis. During times of social unrest, provide work from home opportunities, fund affinity-based groups, and offer restorative days.
Heading into the fall, the lesson from 2020 is clear: crisis reveals who we are; and without collective care, our social pain may find a host in hatred. As we heal, grief, not guns, can become the national symbol of unity in times of intense polarization.