An international group of death studies practitioners and scholars from several countries and disciplines--has coined the concept #GriefLiteracy, which means “the capacity to access, process, and use knowledge regarding the experience of loss.”
Loss, as they explain, does not only occur in response to death; any loss can cause us to grieve.
They offer several scenarios for what a “grief literate society” would look like. e.g. grief education in curricula, starting in junior levels; it recognizes and acknowledges grief from non-death losses, and pet deaths. #GriefLiteracy
“Death is sexy in popular culture, but there’s nothing sexy about grief,” Dr. Mary Ellen Macdonald, a medical anthropologist who is part of the team behind #GriefLiteracy. “The only way to cure grief is to grieve.” feministgiant.com/p/essay-some-o…
We need #GriefLiteracy because we have not reckoned with the magnitude of our pain and grief. Those of us who did not die must prepare to take our individual grief out into the world, where so many are acting as if nothing happened, or that the pandemic is "over."
Those of us who did not die must find our place in communal mourning and nurturing and whisper to each other’s hearts “We know you’re strong. Look at what you survived. You can be soft here, we’ve got you.” feministgiant.com/p/essay-some-o…
That is part of #GriefLiteracy. And it belongs to us. One of the most powerful aspects of grief literacy is that it is community driven.
“Grief literacy extends the compassionate communities movement,” @SusanCadell
Part of our grief literacy must include pronouncing once and for all that whatever “normal” was is dead and buried. Only the most privileged and the least affected will insist on “going back to normal.”
Bonus material: who else finds Call the Midwife incredibly cathartic?
I am late to the series Call the Midwife, which my sister has been recommending for years. I finally binge-watched my way through it during lockdown. #GriefLiteracy
“You’ll get a headache from crying,” my sister promised when I told her I was in search of catharsis.
And without fail, each episode tore my heart apart and then delicately handed it back to me: "See, you're still here. Befriend grief. Don’t be scared." feministgiant.com/p/essay-some-o…
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Day One of #ThisIs55: I was born July 28, a Friday=the weekend in Egypt. When registry office opened, my parents decided to register me as Aug 1 birth—start of the month, people would’ve just got paid=good gifts for Mona! So I celebrate all 5 days! 📷 my niece
55 years later and I still have the cheeks. And guess what Baby Mona was saying with her little fist raised?*
*Hint: what she says at the start and end of her events with her bigger fist raised!
The best gifts are free! Best way to wish me a Happy Birthday: subscribe for free to FEMINIST GIANT feministgiant.com
I don't remember who I used to be and I don't know what I am becoming.
I've been thinking this more and more as I approach my birthday (v soon and I'll post pictures for all five days as I usually do!) and also in the way I think about my menopause transition and pandemic life.
As I move through both pandemic and perimenopause: how do I want to emerge? Transformation is hard.
How do I want to stand in this in-between, this forever now, in such a way that honours how scared I am but also how alive I am to the potential that is born from emerging?
I refuse to emerge as if unscathed.
I insist that we all be scathed, that we refuse to be the people we were at the start of the pandemic. I know I am not. But what am I becoming?