Healing Balm: A Journey through Racial Trauma and Redemption

Growing up as a Black man in America, racism has been an ever-present shadow, shaping my reality and influencing every aspect of my life. From a young age, I became aware of blatant interpersonal racism. However, it wasn’t until later that I understood the pervasive reach of systemic racism and how deeply it affected me and my community. This understanding, coupled with my own experiences, highlighted the distinction between “little T trauma”—those subtle, yet pervasive microaggressions—and “big T trauma,” rooted in acts of police brutality and the generational trauma faced by Black people.

Raised in a nurturing, predominantly Black community, I had a strong sense of belonging. Family, church, and neighbors provided a cocoon of love and support. Yet, as I discerned my call to pastoral ministry during my senior year of high school, I had no inkling of the profound internal struggles that lay ahead. Little did I know that the microaggressions I would face—those seemingly insignificant “little T traumas”—would lead to chronic stress and anxiety. These traumas made me hyper-aware of how I was perceived by others, causing anxiety in social situations and a constant need to prove myself, often overcompensating to fit into spaces where I felt out of place.

After high school, I entered Roberts Wesleyan College, a predominantly white institution. My initial excitement quickly gave way to stress and isolation. Everything about me—my speech, worship style, afro, and even my laughter—was scrutinized and deemed different, too loud, or unprofessional. Though the intent was rarely malicious, the ignorance and bias of some classmates and professors were palpable. These experiences led to the insidious development of imposter syndrome, where I constantly felt like a fraud in my achievements, fearing that I would be exposed as unworthy. This fear drove me to overwork, striving to meet perceived expectations, while simultaneously battling the overwhelming sense that I was not enough.

These “little T traumas” also chipped away at my self-esteem. Constantly subjected to subtle slights and dismissals, I began to doubt my abilities, intelligence, and worth. This erosion of self-confidence made me reluctant to take risks or pursue opportunities, further alienating me from my authentic self. The pressure to fit into certain stereotypes, or avoid negative ones, led to a fear of authentic expression. I found myself altering my speech, appearance, and behavior to align with what was considered acceptable by the dominant culture, silencing the true essence of who I was created to be.

One of the most hurtful experiences occurred while studying abroad in Lithuania. During a conversation with fellow students, someone tried to explain how I was not like “regular Black people,” making a derogatory distinction between African Americans and a racial slur. Shocked and angry, I remained silent, not wanting to face repercussions for reacting, especially being so far from home. This silence marked me deeply, contributing to my ongoing struggle with cultural alienation. The pressure to distance myself from my Black identity to avoid discrimination created a profound sense of disconnection from my cultural roots, leaving me grappling with a loss of identity.

Despite these challenges, I completed my BA in Religion and Philosophy, married my soulmate Misty Duncan, and pursued my Master of Divinity at Northeastern Seminary. In early 2016, Misty and I joined Anchor Church, our spiritual home to this day. While the church community was welcoming and affirming, my internal struggle with anxiety and belonging continued. Although supported by the church, I felt isolated, unable to voice my struggles fully.

In 2020, I became the Assistant Pastor at Anchor Church after completing my Master of Divinity. Concurrently, I began my ministry as a Hospital Chaplain through the CPE program at Sisters of Charity Hospital. This period marked significant emotional and spiritual growth. I learned to articulate my feelings and struggles, laying the groundwork for a profound realization of my trauma during a doctoral retreat.

During the session on writing and publishing at the first doctoral retreat, I was overwhelmed by a wave of anxiety. As I explored these feelings, I began to unravel the deep-seated effects of “little T traumas” and a profound belief that I had nothing important to say or write. This belief, rooted in years of microaggressions, not only undermined my sense of worth as a Black man but also shook my sense of calling as a pastor. I always believed that God could have called someone better than me—someone more deserving and capable. This internalized doubt fed lies that eroded my confidence and sense of belovedness before God.

As I reflected further, I connected these feelings to the broader reality of “big T trauma”—the generational pain and systemic racism that has plagued Black communities since the transatlantic slave trade. The trauma that began with slavery has continued to manifest through brutal acts like police violence, but also through persistent economic disparities, educational inequities, mass incarceration, and the ongoing segregation within the church. These systemic injustices, deeply rooted in our nation’s history, have left profound scars on the Black community and on my own sense of identity and purpose.

Jeremiah 8:22 poses a haunting question: “Is there no balm in Gilead? Is there no physician there? Why then is there no healing for the wound of my people?” In its original context, this verse reflects the prophet Jeremiah’s deep lament for the spiritual and social brokenness of Israel. The balm of Gilead, a high-quality healing ointment, symbolizes the potential for restoration that remains unrealized due to the people’s persistent disobedience and systemic injustice. This verse resonates deeply with my journey. The wound of racial trauma, much like the spiritual ailment in Jeremiah’s time, calls for healing that transcends superficial solutions. Despite the deep wounds inflicted by systemic racism and both “little T” and “big T” traumas, I cling to the hope and healing power of God. My story, intertwined with a yearning for true reconciliation, reflects a modern quest for that elusive balm in Gilead—a quest to address the root causes of racial trauma and seek profound, transformative healing.

Over the past two years, my doctoral studies at Portland Seminary have been a profound crucible for my journey of healing and transformation. Supported by my cohort, faith community, wife, and the Holy Spirit, I have worked to address and heal from racial trauma while learning to guide others on this path. My goal is to make significant strides toward racial reconciliation and justice within the Western New York Christian community and beyond. Through the Good Neighbors Racial Healing Initiative, my doctoral project, I seek to empower individuals—especially my Black and Brown brothers and sisters living, working, and worshiping in predominantly white spaces—to remain rooted in their belovedness before God. I aim to help them stay true to their authentic selves and callings, fostering a ministry dedicated to healing and empowerment. I also invite my white brothers and sisters to reflect on how they have been affected by and have perpetuated racial trauma. By examining their own roles within systemic racism and making space for the healing of their siblings of color, I encourage them to allow the Holy Spirit to transform their minds, hearts, and behaviors, and to bear witness to this healing through advocacy and close, empathetic engagement.

Healing begins with acknowledgment. We must confront the wounds, seek divine guidance, and build a community that celebrates diversity and fosters true belonging. Let us rise and allow the true balm in Gilead to work through us, by the power of the Holy Spirit, bringing healing and hope to a world in desperate need of both. Together, we can dismantle the structures of racism and cultivate a beloved community where every voice is valued, and every individual is seen as God’s precious creation..