I saw a crow by Red Rock standing on one leg
It was the black of your hair
The years are heavy
I will ride the swiftest horse
You will hear the drumming hooves.
N. Scott Momaday
Disenfranchised Grief
Today is the anniversary of the death of a man I loved very much. (I will call this man T. to protect his identity and that of his family.) We were only involved for a few months, but I almost left my husband for him. I'm not proud of the fact that I was unfaithful to my husband. But I am happy that T. and I had that brief time together because, unbeknownst to either of us, he didn't have many years left to live. T. was a First Nations Man (native man) from a community in northern Alberta where my husband and I were living at the time. Ironically, or really not surprisingly given the smallness of the community, T. and my husband were friends, and even more surprisingly, remained friends after our affair. They even worked together and I saw T., who remained a close friend, often. When he died in an accident, I was tremendously sad. Most people knew that T. and I had been involved, but because I was married, no one spoke to me about how I felt about T's death. Thankfully, I was able to attend his funeral, and the traditional week-long wake that was a grinding marathon of grief and silence. I also cried many private tears. But no one sent sympathy cards or came on condolence visits. This is what disenfranchised grief is: grief that is not recognized by society. It is what I like to call silenced grief because the griever has few opportunities to share their grief and must often grieve alone.
Types of Disenfranchised grief
- Pregnancy loss
- Pet loss
- Abortion
- Suicide of a loved one
- Loss of someone in a secret relationship
- Adoption losses
- Sexual assault
- Loss of a home
- Divorce
- Chronic disease
- Trauma
Trauma is associated with disenfranchised grief. Author Judith Herman, writes that "no custom or common ritual recognizes the mourning that follows traumatic life events." (Herman 1997:70) She also writes that, "certain violations of the social compact are too terrible to utter aloud: this is the meaning of the word unspeakable." (Ibid.:1) I have had few opportunities for public grieving for the traumatic events that I have experienced in my life. Often, my family and friends have not felt comfortable talking to me about these experiences. Therefore, the grieving I have done has mostly been done alone. This is why, 40 years after my first trauma, I am still processing my grief. Grieving alone about something we can't talk about or engage in public rituals to help ease our sorrow, is slow grieving. Can't we just forget about that grief and get on with our lives, you may ask? Sadly, no. Herman, and other people who work with or write about trauma, agree that in order to heal, the trauma survivor must grieve their losses.
Have you ever suffered from disenfranchised grief? If so, what helped you?
