For generations, strength has been a survival strategy, yet the psychological toll of navigating race, identity, and chronic stress in America remains one of the most overlooked public health issues of our time.
Now more than ever, in the age of social media, we are inundated with violent and racially charged images, videos, commentary, and rhetoric. Many of us wake up and go to sleep scrolling—absorbing content, engaging in comment sections, and going back and forth with strangers we’ve never met. Rarely do we pause to consider the impact this constant exposure has on our minds, moods, bodies, nervous systems, and overall well-being.
Plainly put, what we consume—and what we push through—is affecting us in far more ways than most of us realize.
The truth is, the extreme divisiveness of the current political and social climate is affecting everyone. But for people of color, this moment often feels like an extension of what we have been navigating for generations. One of the hardest parts is the sense that all we have fought for—everything our parents and grandparents endured—is at risk of being undone. That fear doesn’t come from nowhere. It’s rooted in lived experience.
In my own family, that history is deeply personal. My great-uncle marched for civil rights in Selma and was beaten to the point of having several broken bones because he was seen as a race traitor—he was white. My grandfather, a Black man, left the Deep South and moved north, determined to create a better life for every generation that followed. On both sides of my family, there is pain, sacrifice, courage, and forward momentum. And yet, in moments like these, it can feel as though we are moving backward instead of forward.
Generational trauma doesn’t only live in the stories we pass down—it lives in our bodies. Research now shows that prolonged exposure to stress, violence, and oppression can shape how our nervous systems respond to the world. Trauma can influence how we regulate emotion, how we perceive safety, and how our bodies react to stress. Over time, these patterns don’t just disappear; they can be passed down biologically and behaviorally, affecting how future generations experience the world even if they haven’t lived through the original events themselves.
This helps explain why so many people feel exhausted, on edge, or emotionally overwhelmed without always being able to name why. It’s not just about what’s happening now—it’s about what’s being reactivated.
And yet, alongside this heaviness, something else is happening. More than ever, people are actively seeking spaces to heal. They are following pages that share hope and good news, choosing content that nourishes instead of depletes, and turning toward one another in search of deeper connection and understanding. There is a growing recognition that survival alone is not enough—we need restoration.
So what does this mean for everyday life?
It starts with awareness. Paying attention to how our bodies respond to what we consume—news cycles, social media, conversations—can offer important clues. Chronic stress doesn’t always show up as panic; sometimes it looks like exhaustion, irritability, numbness, or the constant feeling of being “on edge.” Naming these responses without judgment is often the first step toward healing.
It also means being intentional about where we seek support. Healing doesn’t have to happen all at once or in isolation. For some, it may look like therapy or culturally competent wellness care. For others, it may begin with community, boundaries around media consumption, or spaces that allow for rest and reflection. Small, consistent choices—made with compassion rather than pressure—can help regulate the nervous system and create room for restoration over time.
This realization is what led me to write Healing While Black: Ancient Wisdom, Modern Psychology & The Science of Healing. The book was born out of a desire to explore what healing looks like when culture, history, and psychology are all acknowledged. It combines research, historical context, and culturally grounded practices to offer a more complete picture of Black mental health—one that moves beyond simply “pushing through” toward regulation, resilience, and wholeness.
That same vision is what’s shaping the early stages of the Black Healing Network. What began as conversations around wellness and healing has evolved into a growing effort to spotlight Black healers and wellness providers, amplify culturally competent care, and create pathways for connection. It’s not about having all the answers—it’s about building trust, visibility, and access in a space that has too often been overlooked.
Healing is not a luxury. It’s not a trend. And it’s not something we should have to earn through suffering. Healing is our birthright—and reclaiming it, individually and collectively, is one of the most powerful acts we can take right now.
By Natasha Ickes
Short bio
Natasha Ickes is a 4x TEDx speaker, author, and mental health advocate exploring healing through a cultural and psychological lens. She is currently pursuing a master’s degree in clinical psychology and is the founder of Shear Passion Salon and the Black Healing Network.
