Intersections of Trauma: War, Systemic Racism, and Higher Education

In Short

• Using their own experience of war as a backdrop, the author explores how trauma shatters an individual’s foundational beliefs, leaving them grappling with questions about their own worth and the inherent goodness of humanity.

• The discussion moves from personal to collective trauma, examining the profound betrayal felt by Black scientists in academia due to systemic racism and drawing parallels to Newton’s third law to explain the cause-and-effect relationships at play.

• Finally, the article offers a starting list of recommendations for individuals and institutional leaders in higher education, aimed at fostering equity and addressing the multifaceted nature of trauma.

That night in Baghdad in 1991, during Operation Desert Storm, the first U.S. war on Iraq, we were huddled in one corner of our house. It felt as if the bombs were falling in our living room directly. I was terrified and worried that my parents were going to die. I was 12 years old.

We all survived intact, at least physically. However, as clinical psychiatrists Murthy and Lakshminarayana (2006) reminded us:

War destroys communities and families and often disrupts the development of the social and economic fabric of nations. The effects of war include long-term physical and psychological harm to children and adults, as well as reduction in material and human capital. Death as a result of wars is simply the “tip of the iceberg.” Other consequences, besides death, are not well documented.

War also provokes us to ask some truly heart-wrenching questions. Whispering to myself but addressing the people in America as bombs rained down on us, I wondered: Why would you do this to us?

Even though I had never personally met an American, I nonetheless posed the question as though there were some deep connections between us, a sort of invisible bond—a bond I felt because of childhood innocence and an idealistic view of how people and nations should behave. The shock and disappointment of feeling this bond shatter was profound, albeit hard for me to put into words. For a long time, I found it difficult to express why I had pondered that question. But as I grew older and learned more about the complexity of trauma, I realized that my middle-school-self was trying to make sense of betrayal. In that moment, I felt betrayed by people I did not even know but to whom I felt a deep connection through the common thread of humanity. You see, even when children cannot articulate what they are feeling, they know, inherently, that injustice is a form of betrayal. In light of the recent atrocities in the Middle East, I cannot help but think of the countless children amid the ruins, and Palestinian children whose lives and families are being destroyed, echoing a similar sentiment, asking, “Why would you do that to us?” “Why would you abandon us?” Their voices are a testament to the enduring anguish and search for understanding amid the incomprehensible.

Betrayal as a Dimension of Trauma: A Personal Insight

The American Psychological Association defines trauma as a complex emotional response to terrible events such as accidents, natural disasters, and violent acts. These events initiate a cascade of defensive physiological reactions (Dalenberg et al., 2017) aimed at preserving life. Such reactions expend a great deal of energy, making them an exhausting defense mechanism that transcends the immediate event, leaving an individual grappling with an unyielding fatigue. Psychiatry professor and trauma researcher Ruth Lanius delineated the ways trauma overwhelms our senses, vividly illustrating it as an “insult to your senses” (Ojiakor, 2022; para 12). Whether through witnessing something terrible, enduring verbal abuse, or suffering violent physical harm, our sensory inputs are captured intensely by the reptilian parts of our brain. This portion of the brain, wired for survival, takes precedence in traumatic moments, acting reflexively to enhance our prospects of survival. By understanding trauma through this lens, we realize that it is more than just an emotional disturbance; trauma deeply infiltrates our being at the most primal level.

Psychiatrist and trauma researcher Herman (1992) explained that trauma is a state where individuals are left powerless, submerged in helplessness amid overwhelming forces. Whether prompted by natural disasters or human-induced atrocities, traumatic events shake the foundational structures that foster control, connection, and meaning in one’s life. Herman emphasizes that the nature of these events is not just their rarity but their capacity to overwhelm the typical ways we adapt to changes in life.

Through both my personal experience with war and my own study of trauma, I have come to understand that trauma is more than merely a physiological response: trauma births a psychological chasm that fundamentally alters our understanding of ourselves and our relationship to the external world. By shattering many of our foundational beliefs, trauma ushers us into a space where hope and trust become distant memories. Eclipsed by pervasive questions regarding any inherent goodness that once defined our perception of ourselves and our place in the world, the chasm caused by trauma can very much feel like deep betrayal. And that betrayal in itself is another aspect of trauma; after a traumatic event shocks and destabilizes us, it feels like a profound, burning heartbreak that undermines our faith—in ourselves, in humanity, in the future.

Part of what makes us human is our ability to hope, to imagine the future, to have faith, and to reflect on moral issues. Trauma can shatter all of these dispositions. Trauma locks us in time. It can corner us, making us question basic assumptions we hold about our own worth, about the goodness of others and the world, and about the future. It rattles our faith in humanity. Trauma can make it difficult to hope.

As I reflect on my experience of war and my struggle to rebuild my faith in humanity, I am drawn to consider a different type form of trauma, one seemingly unrelated to war yet tied together by the thread of shared human experience of betrayal: the notion of “insidious trauma.” A pivotal concept brought to light by clinical and forensic psychologist Laura Brown (1991; p. 122), insidious trauma describes the effects of traumatic experiences borne out of oppressive systems and institutions. Her concept extends the idea of trauma beyond overt catastrophic events, examining the traumas caused by often repressive societal norms and damaging daily experiences, such as discrimination based on sexism, classism, ableism, and racism.

Resounding Betrayals: Parallels in War and Systemic Racism

In the world of academia, a whole community of racially underrepresented scientists and physicians is grappling with the trauma of systemic racism, in a higher education setting that is meant to embrace, value, support, and elevate them. A recent article in the journal Cell shared the reflections of 52 Black scientists, shedding light on their experiences within the landscape of science, technology, engineering, mathematics, and medicine (STEMM) and describing the concepts of freedom and liberation in relationship to the now national holiday of Juneteenth (Mays et al., 2023). The authors invite us to delve into the labyrinth of challenges that so many aspiring and practicing Black scientists navigate daily, the daunting obstacles they must continually overcome, and the resounding silence they experience when their hard-earned achievements go unnoticed. What also goes unacknowledged is the toll on mental health that the current structure and culture of academia takes on them.

In school we learn the natural laws of the physical world, including Newton’s third law, “For every action, there is an equal and opposite reaction.” There is a cause and an effect, so every action creates another reaction, which in turn produces a new one. Thus, an endless chain of actions and reactions is created. Newton’s law of cause and effect is not only a principle of the universe—it is also a reflection on how science itself unfolds in the world, creating a tapestry of knowledge. Newton’s law emphasizes what we can measure, but we must also recognize that there are a host of effects and consequences we cannot possibly, or justly, quantify. This law, while rooted in physics, can serve as a metaphorical framework to understand the multiplicative ripple effect of systemic racism. The seeds of systemic racism have grown into towering obstacles for Black scientists. These obstacles are caused by human-made systems, and they also impacts humans—with human lives and dreams hanging in the balance.

As we unpack the Black authors’ narratives shared in Cell, it becomes clear that invocation of Juneteenth is not merely as a marker of emancipation, but as a call for freedom, equity, and reparation that is long overdue. For those Black scientists, Juneteenth represents an ongoing struggle to be free from the entrenched biases, the intergenerational wounds, and the unyielding struggles that are towering barriers they continue to face each and every day in their professional lives.

The first time I read the Cell article, I could not finish it. It was too painful. I tried a second and third time. Reading the article the fourth time, I realized that my pain stemmed from the fact that these individuals are more than just authors, colleagues, students, mentors, or fellow citizens. They are friends, family, part of the global village of academia, whose paths are marked with the intergenerational thorns of struggle, each with narratives tinged with the pain of an unjust history that remains all too present, an echo that refuses to be silenced. The very institutions that should be fostering knowledge, promoting equality, and providing opportunities for all have instead perpetuated a system that disproportionately hinders the progress of Black individuals in the STEMM fields. Our institutions. This systematic exclusion is a profound betrayal—one that is deeply personal yet shared by many, one that is rooted in history and is perpetuated in the present. Despite these heart-wrenching realities, I hold onto the same belief in a shared humanity that I cherished as a child. It is this belief that compels us to recognize the pain, address the inequalities, and relentlessly pursue a world where every individual, regardless of race or background, can thrive without prejudice or supremacy.

The disenfranchisement and exclusion faced by one generation limits opportunities for the next, creating a cycle of underrepresentation and lack of access that continues across time, especially related to opportunities for economic stability, upward mobility, and well-being. This exclusion not only impacts the present but also shapes the future, imprinting a sense of intergenerational betrayal. And just as trauma can reverberate through time, this betrayal is not confined to the past; it’s intergenerational. It stretches its vines across time, touching future generations and imposing on them the legacy of this betrayal.

My colleague in chemistry, Dr. Harry Price,¹ uses a poignant biological metaphor to describe this cumulative effect of racism, betrayal, and trauma: The seeds of systemic racism, when first sown, might seem small and insignificant, like the initial ripple on the water’s surface. But as these seeds grow and take root, they spread their influence far and wide, just like waves propagating across an ocean. As the waves grow in size and strength, so too do the impacts of systemic racism. They expand, become more pervasive, and impact more and more people as they spread across society and through time.

Toward a Path of Equity and Healing: Recommendations

We, in higher education, have mostly been complicit in perpetuating these inequalities and barriers. The words of Rev. Dr. Joseph Lowery ring true: “We must be just as diligent about closing the achievement gap as we were about creating it”² (2005). This powerful call to action resonates (or should) deeply within the higher education community as we reflect on our own complicity and inaction. Our responsibility does not end with sympathizing with these stories. Instead, we are charged with working toward a holistic and reparative model in STEMM, which requires more than just Band-Aid DEI initiatives.

It’s tempting to argue, “I didn’t have anything to do with this mess” or “I worked hard to get to where I am,” and while that may be true, we all inherited a system that benefits some at the expense of others. We all have a choice to be either part of an academic system that continues to perpetuate betrayal or to be part of a movement that digs deep and aspires to understand and mend the wounds of betrayal. Below, I offer some suggestions, beginning with recommendations for every individual in higher education.

1. Reflect on why equity matters to you personally, why it’s your moral obligation not just for this generation but also for generations to come.

2. Investigate a more nuanced understanding of equity and why it must be understood in a historical context (Philip & Azevedo, 2017).

3. Educate yourself on the history and ongoing effects of systemic oppression, particularly in your field or discipline.

4. Learn about the concept of “everyday restitution,” not just from a legal dimension but also from a relational and social dimension (Swartz, 2017).

5. Read about the interconnectedness of oppression, violence, trauma, and ongoing injustice, and why we need to incorporate the notion of intergenerational trauma into our equity work (Broch-Due & Bertelsen, 2016).

6. Engage with material and in discussions on intergenerational privilege.

7. Challenge your own biases and educate others about the importance of doing the same.

8. Continue learning about the experiences of racialized and marginalized individuals within STEMM (or your respective) fields; commit to amplifying those voices in your field.

9. Advocate for policy changes within your academic institutions to support reparation and healing.

10. Engage in community and academic conversations to foster dialog and actionable insights. This approach helps to keep your practices aligned with the evolving understanding of what equity should entail.

11. Remember that this work is ongoing and that mistakes are a part of the process. Keep learning, keep growing, and keep dreaming of a more equitable world.

For institutional leaders who want to rethink “business as usual” and the many ways our institutional norms and assumptions perpetuate such trauma, here are some additional recommendations above those that you can take as an individual:

1. Review and reform hiring and promotion practices. Develop a comprehensive system that uses culturally relevant and abundant criteria designed to replace conventional, Eurocentric benchmarks, thus rooting out systemic biases at the point of entry and upward mobility.

2. Expand the focus of existing equity and inclusion efforts to include trauma-informed approaches. Ensure that your institution is empowered to tackle well-being and healing, including the understanding and addressing of intergenerational trauma and wisdom, as foundational aspects of equity work.

3. Allocate funding for multifaceted research and initiatives related to equity. Direct resources toward understanding and rectifying systemic imbalances in both academic achievement and well-being, laying a fiscal groundwork for equity work.

4. Facilitate cross-disciplinary research on equity, systemic racism, intergenerational healing, resilience, and trauma. Engage experts across disciplines to create an ecosystem of knowledge and innovative solutions for transformative change.

5. Implement mental health and wellness programs that are culturally competent and trauma-informed. Prioritize asset-based approaches to foster resilience and uplift marginalized communities, recognizing the specific traumas they face.

6. Actively and authentically engage with the communities most affected by systemic issues like racism, trauma, and inequality on your campus. This engagement should go beyond understanding their unique needs to include collaborative advocacy and community-led initiatives that spotlight their strengths and contributions.

7. Form partnerships with external organizations specializing in social justice work. Include experts who focus on intergenerational trauma, healing, and wisdom to create a holistic approach to resolving systemic inequities.

8. Institute a system of ongoing assessment and feedback for all equity initiatives. Regularly evaluate the effectiveness of programs and policies, making data-driven adjustments as needed, and share these evaluations transparently with both internal and external stakeholders.

9. Advocate for policy changes that institutionalize these recommendations. Work to ensure sustainability through the integration of these recommendations into the very ­fabric of academic and organizational structures.

By starting with these actions, we can actively commit to creating a more equitable and just world, taking a step toward breaking the cycle of systemic racism in academia. We are part of a collective effort, a chorus of voices, united in creating a ripple of change. There is power in each small action, in each conversation, in each decision that is grounded in equity, empathy, and the recognition of our shared humanity. This work is our collective responsibility and our shared opportunity to attend to the wounds of betrayal and trauma that countless people have endured. This work is your responsibility.

I want to end by reiterating that while the physical circumstances and immediate experiences of war, displacement, and loss can be managed or overcome with time, it is the emotional toll that is harder to mend. We are often left with a wounded faith in humanity, a deep sense of betrayal and disappointment in people. Just as I, a child in a country devastated by an unjust war and crippling sanctions, questioned humanity, we, in higher education, must question and challenge the systems that perpetuate racial disparities and trauma. We must strive for a world where no child, student, or scientist feels betrayed by their fellow humans.

Disclosure Statement

No potential conflict of interest was reported by the author. 

Additional information

Notes on contributors

Mays Imad

Mays Imad ([email protected]) is an Associate Professor in the biology department at Connecticut College. She is interested in understanding the social determinants of student well-being and success and conducts research on equity pedagogy. Her work reflects a deep commitment to equity and justice in and through education. With fervor, she advocates for institutions to pay close attention to intergenerational trauma and to prioritize healing and well-being.

Notes

1 Associate Professor of Chemistry at Stetson University.

2 https://twitter.com/NMortaloni/status/1283829951674769408.