Introduction
Summary of the book My Grandmother’s Hands by Resmaa Menakem. Before we start, let’s delve into a short overview of the book. : Imagine carrying a heavy backpack on your shoulders every single day, without even noticing how much it weighs you down. Over time, that weight would shape how you move, how you feel, and even how you see yourself. Now, think of racism in the same way—as a painful burden passed from one generation to the next, leaving deep marks not just on our minds, but on our bodies as well. This isn’t something that stays out there in history books. Instead, it sinks into our muscles, our breath, our hearts, and affects the way we treat ourselves and each other. To truly understand and overcome racism, we must learn how it lives and moves inside our bodies. By learning to notice, calm, and heal this stress, we can finally create a more peaceful world. The chapters ahead will show you how this journey can begin with each of us.
Chapter 1: Understanding the Hidden Roots of Racial Trauma Buried Deep Within Our Bodies.
Imagine feeling uneasy, tense, or afraid, yet not fully knowing why. For many people in America, these feelings come from invisible threads of history woven into their bodies. The pain and fear passed down through years of violent injustices have settled deep within bones, muscles, and nerves. This means racism isn’t only an idea floating in society; it’s also an experience that shapes our breathing, our heartbeats, and even the way we hold ourselves when we walk into a room. The burdens of slavery, discrimination, and countless acts of cruelty have created a type of body memory. Even if we don’t know all the details, our bodies often remember. This is why understanding racism isn’t just about reading facts—it’s also about seeing how the past still lives inside us, influencing our feelings and reactions today.
Think about a person who has been tense for years because they live in a place where they never feel fully safe. Over time, their shoulders might be permanently stiff, their chest tight, and their jaw clenched. Now, imagine an entire community carrying such tension passed down through centuries. For Black Americans, the legacy of forced labor, segregation, and daily disrespect doesn’t just remain in old photographs or old stories—it has shaped how people feel in their own skin. If someone constantly expects danger or unfair treatment, their nervous system never really relaxes. This nervous system alert mode can lead to serious health problems, from high blood pressure to anxiety. By realizing this, we begin to see that fighting racism isn’t just about changing laws. It’s also about healing minds and bodies worn out by centuries of harm.
But it’s not only people of color who carry tension in their bodies due to racism. White Americans may carry a different form of stress—a kind of tightness caused by deep-rooted fears and biases they never chose to learn, but that culture taught them anyway. Even well-meaning white people can feel uncomfortable or anxious without fully understanding why, especially around those whose skin tone differs from theirs. This discomfort, shaped by history and social messages, might cause them to act in ways that harm others or maintain unequal systems. Understanding how racism affects all bodies is crucial. We need to accept that both victims and bystanders carry this stress, even if in different ways, and that the first step toward real change is recognizing these silent burdens.
To truly move forward, we need to start paying attention to the feelings hidden underneath our skin. This means noticing when we tense up, when we feel fear, or when we shrink ourselves in certain situations. It means understanding that these body reactions are not random—they’re connected to a larger story of what America has been, and what it still is today. As we begin this journey of discovery, we will learn why old habits stick, why certain groups are always on guard, and why discomfort runs so deep. By looking inward, we find clues to how racism sneaks into everyday life, shaping not only big events but also small gestures, conversations, and assumptions. With these insights, we can prepare ourselves to heal and grow stronger together.
Chapter 2: How Ancient Wounds of Collective Pain Pass Silently Through Generations of Flesh.
Trauma is like a wound that never fully heals if left untreated. When we talk about racism, we often think about big events in history—chains, whips, vicious attacks, or hateful laws. But these events left scars not just on the surface; they dug deep into people’s bodies and souls. Over time, these scars formed patterns of stress and fear that got passed down through families, like a bad inheritance. Grandparents who suffered violence might raise children who absorb their tension and worry. Those children then grow up and pass these feelings on to their own children, often without realizing what they’re doing. This creates a chain of discomfort and pain linking one generation to the next, keeping communities stuck in old reactions and fears long after the original harm was done.
Sometimes trauma can be straightforward, like if someone survives a terrible accident and becomes fearful afterward. But trauma caused by racism can be much trickier to spot because it’s woven into daily life. It might come from a thousand small cuts—rude comments, suspicious looks, unfair treatment—that happen over and over again. This daily pressure, known as hazy trauma, can wear a person down as surely as a single massive blow. With each new insult or threat, the nervous system tightens and the stress hormones rise, making a person feel forever on edge. In time, this leads to health problems, difficulty trusting others, and a sense of never feeling truly safe. Without noticing these hidden layers, we struggle to understand why communities remain stuck in painful patterns.
What’s even more surprising is that trauma may leave marks not just in our memories, but in our very genes. Scientists have found that high levels of stress can affect the way our bodies pass information on to our children. This means that if someone’s ancestors were harmed, the descendants might inherit a body that is more prone to anxiety or fear. In other words, even if we never personally experienced the original injustice, we might still carry its echoes in our blood. This idea helps explain why a community long oppressed can still feel uneasy generations later, even when some visible signs of oppression have faded.
To break this chain of inherited pain, we must first acknowledge its existence. Instead of blaming individuals for feeling anxious or defensive, we can realize that their bodies have been primed by history. When we understand that the stress in our nerves and muscles has roots older than our personal lifetimes, we can begin to treat each other with more compassion. If we listen to these body signals as messages rather than ignore them, we can start the healing process. We can learn techniques that help release tension, calm the nervous system, and gradually wash away the old fears. By doing this work seriously and patiently, we can prevent passing these wounds on to yet another generation.
Chapter 3: Realizing That Race Is a Recently Invented Concept Quietly Twisting Our Understanding.
It might shock you to learn that the idea of race as we know it didn’t always exist. People used to identify each other by their language, their country, or their religion. Over time, powerful groups began dividing humans into categories based mostly on skin color. This wasn’t done because it was true or natural, but because it helped those in charge maintain control. By inventing the concept of white as a special, more valuable category, the ruling classes managed to keep working people separated and suspicious of each other. As a result, Black people and other people of color were placed in groups viewed as lesser, even though there was no real biological truth behind these divisions.
We may think that race is old and unchanging, but in reality, who gets considered white has shifted over time. Groups once seen as not quite white—like Irish or Italian immigrants—were later accepted as white to strengthen the overall white category. This shows that race is not fixed or based on any hard facts. Instead, it’s a social invention used to shape societies and give advantages to some while denying them to others. These racial categories are like costumes put on people, affecting how they are treated and how they see themselves, even though beneath the costumes, we are all human beings with common needs and desires.
Because race is made up, it feeds many false ideas—one of the most harmful being white fragility. White fragility is the belief that white people are delicate and must be kept safe from the supposed danger of Black bodies. This belief quietly worms its way into everyday life, making some white people fearful or defensive without understanding why. It allows unfairness to continue, as rules and systems keep treating white people as more trustworthy or more deserving. At the same time, Black people are often seen as threatening or suspicious, and this harmful pattern keeps repeating.
When we understand that race is a lie that has shaped our world, we can begin to see how foolish these ideas really are. Realizing that it was invented to divide us can open our eyes to the possibility of uniting against it. Just as people once learned to trust each other across language or religious differences, we can learn to trust each other across invented racial lines. It starts by recognizing that these divisions serve those who benefit from injustice. By calling out these made-up boundaries, we take steps toward a world where our bodies no longer need to fear each other simply because of skin color. We can then begin the real work of healing the damage caused by these harmful illusions.
Chapter 4: Breaking the Cycle: Learning How Our Bodies Trigger Racist Reactions Almost Automatically.
Racist reactions often happen in split seconds, before our logical minds even know what’s going on. This is because our bodies react to perceived threats faster than we can think about them. When someone has learned, over many years, that Black bodies are dangerous or that white bodies are fragile, their heart rate might jump, or their muscles might tense up, whenever they meet someone with a different skin color. This can cause people to speak rudely, avoid eye contact, or even reach for a weapon without really understanding why they’re doing it. These bodily responses are not excuses for harmful behavior, but they do show that this problem isn’t just about personal attitudes—it’s also about automatic responses deeply wired into our nervous systems.
To break the cycle, we must first notice it. If a white person finds themselves feeling strangely nervous around a Black neighbor for no real reason, recognizing that feeling is the first step. Instead of pretending it’s not there, they can ask themselves: Why do I feel this way? Where did I learn this fear? By shining a light on these hidden reactions, we take away some of their power. Similarly, Black communities might recognize the emotional and physical exhaustion caused by everyday racism. Knowing that these feelings are shared, common, and rooted in history can help them understand that the problem isn’t personal weakness, but a system designed to create stress and fear.
Once we see how automatic these reactions can be, we can work on calming them before they cause harm. People can learn techniques to slow their breathing, relax their muscles, and remind themselves that the person standing in front of them is not a threat. By doing this, they disrupt the cycle of racist fear that leads to harmful actions. It’s like retraining the body—teaching it a new language based on understanding, not suspicion. This training takes time, patience, and honesty. But bit by bit, as more people practice it, we can reduce the grip that these old bodily reactions have on our lives.
If we ignore these bodily patterns, we’ll keep seeing the same heartbreaking events—unjust killings by the police, harsh words thrown at strangers, and neighborhoods torn apart by fear. But if we face these patterns head-on, we can slowly unravel them. Each act of noticing, each moment of breathing through fear, helps create a more peaceful future. Our bodies will learn new ways to respond. Our communities will learn to trust again. And with each step, we become closer to a world where racist reactions are replaced by calm, understanding connections. The journey starts inside each of us, by accepting that change is possible if we’re willing to work at it from the inside out.
Chapter 5: Steps to Begin Healing: Using Body-Based Exercises to Find Real Inner Safety.
So how do we start this healing process? It begins with paying close attention to our bodies. Simple exercises like controlled breathing, meditation, or scanning your body for tension can help calm the nervous system. When we practice these methods, we teach our bodies that not every situation requires a fight, flight, or freeze response. Instead, we learn to identify what’s truly dangerous and what’s just the echo of old fears. By regularly calming our breathing and gently stretching tight muscles, we send signals to our body that it’s safe to relax, even in moments that feel uncertain.
Over time, these exercises help us become more aware of how we truly feel. For Black individuals who constantly bear the weight of suspicion or threat, these practices can offer a measure of relief. Instead of blocking out the pain, they can face it with courage and kindness toward themselves, releasing some of that old, stored-up tension. It may hurt at first to confront these feelings—this is called clean pain. But clean pain leads to growth and eventually feels better than dirty pain, which comes from ignoring or denying the trauma. By bravely working through the pain, we open up space for healing.
These body-based exercises aren’t limited to sitting quietly by yourself. They can also be done with other people. Groups of friends, families, or neighbors can come together to hum, sing, or sway in harmony. These shared rituals have long been a part of Black American culture—think of the old spirituals sung in fields or the gentle rocking movements of a grandmother lost in thought. By practicing together, people strengthen not just their individual bodies, but also their community bonds. It creates a sense of we are in this together, which can lighten the burden of isolation and hopelessness.
When we combine personal self-care with community support, we build strong foundations for healing. A few minutes of focused breathing each day, a regular meditation habit, or occasional group gatherings can go a long way in calming frazzled nerves. If you add good nutrition, adequate sleep, physical exercise, and fun hobbies into the mix, you create an environment where your body and soul can truly mend. This isn’t about escaping the world’s problems; it’s about building inner strength so we have the energy and clarity to confront these problems and work toward solutions. By healing ourselves, we prepare ourselves to help heal our families, communities, and society as a whole.
Chapter 6: Black Communities Embracing Shared Rituals to Release Old Traumas and Reclaim Strength.
Throughout history, Black Americans have found ways to survive and even find moments of joy despite brutal oppression. From work songs sung in fields to church choirs, from rhythmic movements to quiet rocking, these cultural expressions helped people process their pain. They allowed communities to gather strength, soothe wounds, and remind each other that they were not alone. These body-based traditions acted like medicine, helping people release tension and feel connected. Even today, Black communities can draw on these powerful rituals to confront old traumas and find renewed resilience.
For a young Black teenager who faces daily microaggressions—small, hurtful comments or looks—gathering with friends or family to hum softly, sway back and forth, or sing uplifting songs can be more healing than any lecture. It’s a way to bond without needing words, reminding each other, We stand together. Older family members can pass down these comforting practices, ensuring that traditions of resilience live on. Such rituals help quiet the mind, relax the body, and offer a sense of belonging. Through these group activities, people build safe spaces that counter the harshness of a world still struggling with deep-rooted biases.
These community practices don’t erase history, but they transform how the body holds it. By regularly engaging in comforting, shared movements and sounds, Black communities can reduce the stress hormones that keep their nerves on edge. Instead of carrying fear, the body learns to carry hope. Instead of shrinking inward, people feel free to stand tall. Such a shift allows for clearer thinking, better problem-solving, and stronger unity. It’s not about pretending racism doesn’t exist; it’s about creating a stronger platform from which to push back against it.
From family kitchens to cultural gatherings, the places where these rituals occur become sanctuaries for healing. They are safe corners of a tough world, where Black people can breathe easily, laugh openly, and feel genuinely valued. Over time, these moments add up, weakening the hold that old traumas have on the mind and body. They serve as a reminder that although historical burdens are heavy, collective strength is heavier still. By embracing these shared practices, Black communities show that their heritage is not just about suffering—it’s also about overcoming, thriving, and shaping a future free from the grip of racial trauma.
Chapter 7: White Americans Confronting Internalized Fragility and Discomfort to Build Lasting True Solidarity.
While Black communities work on healing their bodies, white Americans have their own bodily education to undertake. White people may find that their bodies sometimes tighten around those who are different from them. They may feel uneasy without understanding why, simply because society taught their nervous systems to label Black bodies as threats. Confronting this discomfort is vital if white Americans want to stand as true allies. It’s not enough to say I’m not racist. The body’s automatic reactions may still carry subtle messages learned from centuries of injustice.
Healing for white Americans means learning to notice when fear or tension arises and asking tough questions: Why do I feel this way? What stories have I been told that cause this reaction? Instead of running from these feelings or dismissing them, they can lean in, breathe, and calm their racing heartbeat. By doing so, they teach their bodies that they are safe in the presence of Black people. Over time, such conscious practice can help dissolve the bodily habits of white fragility, making white Americans more trustworthy allies in the fight against racism.
This work goes beyond personal comfort. When white people become more at ease around Black people, they are better able to take meaningful action—speaking up against bias at work, defending a classmate who’s being teased, or choosing to support Black-owned businesses. These small, everyday choices signal that white Americans are not just talking the talk but also walking the walk. They show that white people can handle conversations about race without shutting down or getting defensive. This steady effort helps build bridges between communities that have long been kept apart.
As more white Americans take on the challenge of training their bodies away from old fears, they set an example for others. Friends, relatives, and neighbors see that it’s possible to unlearn harmful reactions and embrace a new way of being. Bit by bit, these personal changes add up, weakening the larger structures that benefit from racial division. Over time, this body-level work contributes to a cultural shift where white people no longer need to be fragile and can stand firmly with Black communities against injustice. True solidarity is built on understanding, honesty, and the willingness to feel a little uncomfortable to make a real difference.
Chapter 8: Police Officers Redefining Their Roles to Nurture Safety Through Genuine Compassionate Connections.
Police officers often find themselves at the center of racial tension and violence. Many people see police as enforcers of harsh laws rather than protectors. This reputation didn’t come from thin air. Early American policing has roots in slave patrols, and today’s policing still often treats Black communities as threats. But the truth is that officers are human beings, too. They experience stress, fear, and trauma, especially if they constantly work in dangerous or highly pressured situations. Without proper guidance, their own bodies can become charged with fear, making it more likely they’ll respond violently at the slightest provocation.
If police officers learn body-based relaxation techniques, they can better handle tense encounters. Simple practices like breathwork, stretching, or even softer activities like getting a relaxing massage can help them release built-up stress. This lowers their chance of reacting out of panic or prejudice. If white officers confront their internalized biases, just like any other white person, they can start seeing Black community members as human beings, not as targets. The calmer and more present an officer is, the less likely they are to use unnecessary force.
Police leaders can support this transformation by encouraging officers to practice mindfulness, attend therapy, or join workshops that teach body-based healing. Instead of focusing only on arrest numbers or harsh tactics, departments can reward officers for de-escalating conflicts. They can also encourage positive community interactions—regular conversations with local families, volunteering at events, or helping out with youth programs. This shifts the role of police from intimidating outsiders to trusted neighbors who truly care about public safety.
As more officers learn to handle their stress and view the community with empathy, the relationship between the police and the people they serve can improve. This doesn’t mean all problems vanish overnight, but each step toward understanding and compassion reduces the chance of tragic outcomes. Over time, communities feel safer, and trust can begin to grow where fear once lived. This new approach to policing can be a vital part of the larger healing process—one that reshapes our towns and cities into places where everyone’s body can relax, breathe freely, and interact with respect and fairness.
Chapter 9: Building Trust by Weaving New Interracial Community Rituals That Foster Understanding and Respect.
Even as individuals work on their own body-based healing, real change requires coming together as communities. Imagine neighbors organizing gatherings where people share music, tell stories, and engage in collective relaxation exercises. In these shared spaces, Black, white, and other people of different backgrounds can stand side by side, humming softly or breathing quietly together. These simple rituals break down walls and help people understand that everyone’s body yearns for safety, peace, and acceptance.
Such community rituals provide a safe environment to explore differences without fear. Instead of awkwardly avoiding conversations about race, people can address them gently, supported by their calm, settled bodies. They can ask questions, listen to each other’s experiences, and realize that everyone has felt pain, confusion, or stress—just in different ways. By doing these things in a friendly, understanding atmosphere, communities can knit together new bonds that overcome the lies that race taught them.
In time, these rituals can spread from one neighborhood to another, creating a larger cultural shift. Perhaps schools can start the day with a few moments of mindful breathing. Community centers might hold weekly sessions where people learn to relax their bodies as a group. Local artists might create public murals that celebrate unity, or poets might host readings that highlight resilience and shared humanity. Bit by bit, these small acts of coming together build trust and help wash away old fears.
It’s important to remember that rebuilding trust is a process, not an event. Just like healing the body takes time, so does healing our communities. People will stumble, feel uncomfortable, and make mistakes. But if they keep returning to these shared rituals and discussions with honesty and patience, they’ll gradually create an environment where everyone feels safer. Over the long run, this trust-building makes it harder for racism to survive, as new generations grow up surrounded by examples of true understanding and care rather than fear and suspicion.
Chapter 10: Creating a Culture That Celebrates All Bodies and Honors Truly Shared Humanity.
As more individuals and communities embrace body-based healing, we begin to create a new culture—one that doesn’t just avoid racism, but actively celebrates the diversity of human bodies. In this culture, a person’s skin color is not a warning sign, but just one of the many beautiful differences that make life interesting. Musicians, dancers, writers, and leaders of color are not exceptions; they’re recognized as essential contributors to society’s growth and happiness.
Overcoming racism isn’t just about removing something ugly; it’s also about adding something wonderful. It’s about developing respect for everyone’s stories, traditions, and talents. It’s about telling our children, through words and actions, that all bodies deserve safety and love. This shift can appear in television shows that highlight strong Black characters, school lessons that celebrate heroes of all colors, and government policies that truly serve everyone equally. Such changes aren’t simple or quick, but each one paves the way for a more just and joyful world.
When a culture values all bodies, we start to see fewer barriers and more cooperation. Neighborhoods become places of exchange rather than suspicion. Workplaces become fair and supportive environments. Families share stories of pride, not fear. Over time, stress levels go down, health improves, and people find it easier to trust one another. Most importantly, this cultural shift sets the stage for future generations to inherit a world where racial trauma is not the norm.
Creating such a culture takes persistent effort. It requires bravery, because challenging old beliefs can be uncomfortable. It demands patience, as we learn new ways to interact and communicate. And it calls for creativity, as we find new traditions, new expressions, and new rituals that help everyone feel included. Yet the reward is immeasurable: a society where human beings connect heart-to-heart, body-to-body, in respectful harmony. In this world, the heavy backpack of racism no longer weighs us down, and we can stand tall, side by side.
Chapter 11: Standing Together in Hope, Expanding Healing Circles, and Making Lasting Social Change Possible.
If you’ve reached this point, you’ve seen that racism isn’t just an idea floating in the air—it’s something that lives in our flesh, our breath, and our bones. But we’ve also seen that healing is possible. When individuals do the inner work of calming their bodies, when communities build trust through shared rituals, and when our culture learns to celebrate all bodies, we take giant steps forward. None of this is about one heroic act; it’s about many small, consistent efforts that add up to large-scale change.
As we continue to expand our circles of healing, hope begins to replace fear. Picture friends who once struggled to talk about race now openly discussing their feelings. Imagine children growing up confident in their own skin and curious about others, rather than wary. Visualize police officers who know how to calm themselves before escalating a situation. Envision neighborhoods where singing, breathing exercises, and supportive conversations are common events. All these images are glimpses of a future we can shape together.
Real social change isn’t about quick fixes—it’s about steady progress over time. Healing racist trauma is like tending a garden. We must prepare the soil by understanding history, plant seeds by practicing body-based healing, and water those seeds with community support. Over time, we’ll see sprouts of understanding, blossoms of trust, and fruits of lasting equality. As these gardens grow, they will spread, taking root in new places and inspiring others to join in.
Standing together, we can push back against old habits and create new possibilities. Each body that heals, each relationship that mends, and each community that grows stronger weakens the hold of racism. Step by step, we build a world where people greet each other without fear, rely on each other without suspicion, and support each other without reservation. This journey begins inside ourselves, extends to our neighbors, and finally reshapes our entire culture. In this shared effort, the heavy weight of racial trauma lifts, leaving us free to walk more lightly into a fairer, more loving future.
All about the Book
My Grandmother’s Hands delves into the intricate connections between trauma and racial identity, offering healing pathways through somatic experiencing. This transformative book empowers readers to confront systemic injustice and nurture personal growth for a more equitable future.
Resmaa Menakem is a renowned therapist and author specializing in somatic experiencing and racial trauma, advocating for healing and understanding across cultural divides through his insightful and impactful work.
Psychologists, Social Workers, Educators, Activists, Healthcare Professionals
Mindfulness Practices, Yoga, Community Activism, Creative Writing, Psychology and Self-Help Reading
Racial Trauma, Systemic Racism, Intergenerational Trauma, Mental Health Awareness
We cannot heal what we do not transform.
Oprah Winfrey, Joe Biden, Shonda Rhimes
NAACP Image Award, Eisner Award, American Book Award
1. What is the role of trauma in our bodies? # #2. How does intergenerational trauma affect family dynamics? # #3. Why is racial trauma often held in your body? # #4. What are somatic practices for healing trauma? # #5. How can you recognize trauma responses in yourself? # #6. Why is self-care crucial for healing racial trauma? # #7. What is the vagus nerve’s role in stress? # #8. How can you soothe the nervous system effectively? # #9. Why is understanding white-body supremacy important? # #10. How do you disrupt trauma patterns in communities? # #11. What exercises help release trauma from your body? # #12. Why must you confront racial pain for healing? # #13. How are mindfulness practices useful in trauma recovery? # #14. What is embodied antiracism and why is it necessary? # #15. How does trauma manifest differently in various communities? # #16. Why is building resilience important for trauma survivors? # #17. How can you create safe spaces for healing? # #18. Why should you notice body signals in distress? # #19. What role does grounding play in trauma repair? # #20. How can storytelling aid in collective healing?
My Grandmother’s Hands, Resmaa Menakem, racial trauma healing, emotional resilience, body-centered therapy, anti-racism literature, somatic experiencing, understanding racial dynamics, cultural healing, trauma-informed care, Black and White relations, mindfulness and healing
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