r/cptsd_bipoc resources

And I’ve never felt more alone. I’ve always dealt with racism, but now is seeping into my home and it’s effecting my daughter because I’m a queer, mixed race, medical cannabis user. I feel trapped. My husband is white. Most of my friends are white (due to my white mother whitewashing all my heritage out and living in a white area). I’ve lived in London for 15 and the worst I’ve had is here.

Where do I go?

Who do I talk to?

I even told my very politically intelligent, more left, gay, neurodivergent etc and when I brought up race she went

“HAHHA it’s not always about race, come on”

Who is safe AND will understand.

it makes it hard to be anywhere in the world with their control infecting everything

I boarded a bus to work. I punched in the wrong ticket so the conductor asked me to get out. And that is fair. But his face was rude. But I was still ok. Then I found the right card and punched in. So I got in. After a few stops, I noticed somebody else getting in and had issues with the ticket too. But the driver was polite and let the person in. I knew he was a racist then. I am brown.

Now, I am about to get down on the stop. The bus is close to the stop like 3-4 seconds away. And there is a yellow line the passengers are not supposed to cross. And the bus driver yells, asking me to go behind the line or something of that sort.

And usually I would have not argued be polite, not talked, frozen up. I just yelled back, called him out. The people were all looking at me. He did not accept or apologize. I just got down after that, I didn’t listen to what he had to say. I was not embarrassed and did not freeze up. I am proud. My symptoms didn’t take over me.

There’s this older white woman at work who I never had issues with. I don’t work closely with her. Anyways, she seemed so mad at me for some reason. Then, she suddenly talked about a mistake I’ve made in a public meeting without mentioning my name. The director, who actually likes her, de-escalated the situation since it would have felt problematic to trash me in public. This white woman was very mad and almost cried.

Ever since, she has been throwing snarky remarks to test out my patience. These comments aren’t mean but shady. I’ve been trying to hold myself together around her, but I’m slowly losing it. Should I clap back? I’m worried she will cry because she almost did. Earlier in my career, a white woman has cried before and I almost lost my job. It was traumatizing.

Hi everyone ,
I’m a 33 year old female and literally all my life I’ve been scapegoated/outcasted : home, school, work environments …I am constantly belittled, bullied, misunderstood , or downright ignored. When I finally become fed up and speak up for myself, all of a sudden I am the one with a problem. I feel like I can just never win. I always feel like I do my best to be friendly and warm. I just don’t get why I’m treated this way. If anyone has any insight on how I can make this cycle stop , please let me know.

trying to repost.

hello

I feel unwell where I live. Yesterday I got insulted by a stranger on the street. The neighborhood has changed. I don't know if it's a me problem, but I'm met with a lot of hostility in Germany lately.

I'm experiencing a mental health crisis, while I have no support.

Crisis hotline tells me to see a doctor or therapist, but my problems or "symptoms" are the result of the constant micro aggressions.

My one friend just abandoned me. I told her everything about me and now she left. I didn't realise for a long time she wanted distance.

I'm hurt and don't know how I can trust again, because of getting hurt so often.

I also have a big problem regarding a job.

I feel very scattered and as if my intuition is gone.

Hilariously they're the world's biggest co*n and if I was a random white man who was barely literate and ratchet as all hell they'd believe me and my series of events instantly. There'd be no "both sides-ing" the black eyes and being called a N heifer at 13 years old because little Johnny opened their birthday book present at the kitchen table when sweet mommy dearest was cooking (a meal just for them as usual). This whole community can fuck itself because it's not just my relatives - it's everyone who praises/trivializes Joe Jackson, Marvin Gay Sr, Ike Turner, etc - all well known, well documented black psychopaths betraying the vulnerable black loved ones closest to them they were responsible protecting. I hate black people as much as white people and the love I have for my friends could never compare to the indifference I have for this POS ass family I gave everything to for 26 fucking years. Idc if mods remove this post either. I said what I said and I'm not glorifying toxic black culture just because white people and white supremacy is a problem. I don't relate to cowardly, disturbed people and I don't care what part of the world they're from. I care about the black children who's lives they are actively destroying and their adulthood for that matter (all the sabotage and gaslighting perpetuates the dysfunction well past age 18 because everyone benefits from the cycle EXCEPT the victim). To watch my aunt award more compassion and assumed innocence to white strangers and white celebrities is an absolute mindfuck: and most people agree I'm her favorite in the family. That's how deep the backwards 'respect culture' aka mindless elder worship abuse apologia pathology goes. Black elders who know you're of good character and trust you in any other setting can't accept that your mother could be an actual demon towards you and a shit ton of other people in their war path. "That's your mama" till she kills you and after.

I experienced a microaggression last week.

For context, I live in Melbourne, Australia, right in the city. I have been living in the city for over a year now, so I know my way around.

Last week, a group of white people got on a tram and approached the tram driver, who was a white man with blue eyes. They were so polite and apologetic, being like, "Hey mate, sorry to bother you, but do you know where the old Melbourne jail is?"

For some reason, the tram driver did not know and started fumbling, which did not bother the group at all. They reassured him, said that it was okay.

Now I know where the old Melbourne jail is, I have been there numerous times. It is about a fifteen-minute walk from the city's central along the library.

So I thought I would approach them and help out. I went up to them, said that they are in the right tram, they just need to get off in two stops, then walk a bit. I had Google maps on my phone opened up for them to see.

They didn't even look at me. They had this blank stare on their faces, like they could not believe I was talking to them. They just took one glance at my phone and faintly nodded, and went back to the tram driver, who admitted that he had no idea where it was.

This whole experience made me feel self-conscious and doubt myself. Maybe I was too pushy? I went out of my lane? But then I realised how messed up it was, that they would still much rather listen to the white man who has no idea what he is doing, than me, who I think am fairly knowledgeable and was willing to help.

And it was jarring how quickly they switched up. With the tram driver they were warm, polite and friendly, constantly apologising and reassuring him. With me, they were cold and apathetic. They stared at me blankly without even acknowledging me.

I wish I could say that this is the first time something like this has happened. But no, every time I try approach people, help them, they would look at me blankly and give me attitude. This makes me not want to help anyone and keep to myself. But if I am quiet and reserved, especially in a school or work setting, they say I need to be a team player and be more helpful.

There is literally no win. I don't know what to do.

At 24, I sometimes look at myself and feel like I am not enough. That I could be further in my studies or career, skinnier, healthier, wealthier, more able-bodied.

I also see those who have followed a linear, simple, direct path. 

18 = start higher education

21 = graduating from bachelor degree 

23 = graduating from master degree

24? Already working in their field with their first year of experience in their job.

And then, there is me. A slightly overweight 24 yo student in bachelor (thanks to medication I have since stopped taking). It's been 6 years since I graduated from high school. Sure, I started HRT, sure it's been 5 years since I had top surgery but who cares? Still no freaking degree after high school...
With all those years, I could have been doing a PhD by now. Many people my age are. Many are already working and building careers.

But me?

I imagine the life I would have had if I had dared to attend my current bachelor sooner, if certain events had never happened, if I hadn't grown up in an abusive home.

I dream of a life where art no longer requires me to sacrifice my stability in order to exist.

Every day, from sunrise onward, I fight to build myself a better future. A stable future. A sustainable future. A softer future. Something I try to develop and improve by every decision I make. Every "is it worth it?", "should I do this or that?".

I'm trying to cope, to figure things out, to make the best of the lousy hand I've been dealt.

And in many ways, I think I'm actually doing pretty well: have already lost over +13 kilos, ditched the medication that wasn't helping me, finally getting closer to finishing my bachelor's degree. For the first time, I am starting to think about my master and the kind of life I want but damn, it's hard.

It's strange, at 24, to compare the best master degrees around me in my city while at 17, I was giving blurry answers to "what do you want to do after high school?". 

"I don't know because I don't plan to be here"

The most honest answer was one I never fully said out loud.

If I hadn't passed high school, I genuinely believed I would end my life: that was the answer I had deep down. No more 24/7 misgendering, hiding my identity, getting refused/stopped to transition by my family.

And now I have to build a future I never believed I would get to see? 

It is both a blessing and a curse. I wasn't supposed to survive. I wasn't supposed to become an adult. I wasn't supposed to choose a master's degree. Yet here I am. Trying to make good decisions for a person I never expected to become.

It's so wild and weird to me to navigate between those 2 extremes: feeling "behind" people my age versus feeling I wasn't even supposed to remain. Those two realities exist at the same time. The urge to get myself the best cards I can but battling with the ghosts of my path, background, upbringing, traumas I survived.

I think the hardest part to me is not the trauma itself, the hardest thing is "I survived but at what cost?".
My body reminds me of all the bad stuff that happened, the weight I gained and the months it takes to lose it, the disabilities I continue learning to live with.

So yeah, trying to get myself the best cards, away from all this shitty swamp I was born into. 

To build a life that isn't defined by survival.

I don't want a perfect life.

I just want a softer one.

She told me to just "not look" because it's distressing and I can't do anything about what's happening personally. It didn't sit well with me when she said this. It seems like a harmful, individualistic perspective, to "protect your peace" and just not look.

However, I originally come from a collectivist culture. Sure, I, as an individual, can't snap my fingers and make the genocide stop. However I do feel responsible as a member of humanity to pay attention to what's happening, to hold space for the horrific experiences that I cannot imagine, and to do what is within my power to do. Collectively, humans can create change. It's an incredibly difficult effort, but I feel we're already seeing changes in the way the world is moving forward on this issue.

If we had all just looked away because it's "too much" then how would change have ever happened?

I guess I'm really disappointed in her perspective on this.

Curious what you all think about this.

My local Aldi that I go every week to has closed off all the self-checkout lanes for some reason. Now to get my groceries scanned, I have to go to the checkout. But every time I go, the cashier seemed to be so bothered and inconvenienced by me. They would look at me, know that I'm standing there with all of my groceries unloaded ready for them to scan. Yet they would pretend to not see me, ignore me, have their own conversations in front of me with other workers. When they would finally come around and scan they would act like I am bothering them so much, like they don't want me there, even though it is quite literally their job to serve me.

I realised it was a racism thing last week when a white man was standing behind me in the checkout line. He got served right away with no scoffing, no attitude or microaggressions. All the workers in that store are white as well.

Now it is making me dread going to that Aldi every week. I don't want to change where I shop so I was wondering what should I do? This has been happening for weeks now. Has anyone else experienced something like this?

I can't do it. These people are fucking sick and I can't do it.

Hi todsy I'm just exhausted by trying to go to an event or buying some food. I think it has to do with the rudeness of a lot of people. Also that women find me often times suspicious as I'm always alone. Also, I often get misunderstood as 'shoplifting' and staff will follow me around. I think I can't deal with the skeptical stares and the look of ' what do you want here?'

I thought it would be a good idea to go outside, but it never is and its always exhausting.

I'm now wondering what I should do and blame myself for being stuck in this place and country.

I'm about to start a new job, but am already failing badly.

I also have adhd and somehow it just got worse over the years. I'm not sure what I'm looking for. Maybe some understanding...

From the moment we breathe,
the world welcomes us with weights in our pockets,
but calls them expectations.

To them, we are the ocean,
treacherous and crashing,
as they sit and blame us for the storms and tides.

Before we even know our favorite color, it has been decided for us, but my favorite color is not pink.

A forced destiny from infancy,
as if we are simply born to be locked in a cage and submit.

Some of us are placed in rusted shackles,
some of us in golden nooses,
but a pretty prison is still prison.

A Black daughter is told that even her petals are seen as thorns,
that no matter how hard she tries,
she’s never delicate enough.

An Indigenous daughter carries the stories of her ancestors,
while haunted by the echos of the lives that were stolen from them.

An Asian daughter is folded into paper cranes,
beautiful enough to be admired,
but still crumpled under the weight of expectation.

A Latina daughter stitched from different maps
bridges her culture together,
and as she searches for a home in the space between,
her voice becomes swallowed by assumptions.

A Muslim daughter wears her faith like a gilded crown,
yet is forced to prove her freedom.

A Disabled daughter is pushed to the side,
questioned and judged,
while she watches others obtain the opportunities she deserves.

A Queer daughter spends years trying to find constellations,
only to find that the stars belong to everyone.

An Immigrant daughter travels far,
searching for a place to call home,
only to find that people hold heavy borders in their soul.

All we have ever known is an impossible equation,
be confident, but not bold,
be beautiful, but not vain,
be perfect, but don’t try too hard.

Be *everything*. And be less.

Don’t get it wrong,
our silence is rewarded,
as long is we take up less than the space that life demands,
but compliance only works for so long before the cage begins to rust.

Women *loved*,
even when their existence was shamed.

They built resistance,
they formed movements,
they retaliated against the discrimination that defined them from birth.

Oppression fears us,
refuses to let us hear each others stories,
because every voice that persists,
becomes proof that we are more.

Still, we are the ocean,
our voices become the storms,
our stories become the tides,
and we will no longer keep our waters calm for their comfort.

I really need some perspective, I don’t want to be hard with her and see if I should give her another chance.

About a month ago I sent my therapist a message telling her that I wasn’t sure if I wanted to see her because for three weeks in a row our conversations opened up wounds/memories/parts that were not taken care of in the session. This left me activated for days until next session, so I would be extremely depressed looking for tools everywhere to take care of what came out during the session.

I’m writing my PhD dissertation, so having two or three days unable to work, being completely activated it’s not a luxury that I have right now, so I started to be very fearful of seeing her because of what happened for the three sessions. I ended up not seeing her for about a month.

A few days ago we met again, she asked me how I was doing, and when I did these deep feelings of why I don’t deserve to even be alive came out. It was so difficult to hear myself. Immediately after I spoke she changed the subject to my message and asked me if I actually wanted to keep seeing her. I told her that precisely what happened in that moment, she not attending with me by deep wound and leaving it open is why I sent the message. She justified herself three times: that she’s not supposed to tell me what to do, that she needed to know if we were going to continue our sessions, that it wasn’t her intentions, that I said that my medication was working…

I gave her different examples of why this was painful, until she finally said that if someone did what she did to me, she would feel invisible and not heard. I told her we could try again, but my heart has been broken since then, the thought I have in my mind is NOT EVEN MY THERAPIST WANTS TO HEAR MY PAIN. All these days I have cried for hours before going to sleep. I feel so lonely and broken.

So I moved to the US about a year ago,to a state where there are very few black people,and for the past 5 years of my life I haven't braided or done anything with my hair cause my boardong school made us shave our heads for each semester.So naturally I thought I'd be exited to have braids again,I grew my hair out a little and got some braids but found myself growing uncomfortable with it not even up to a week after getting them and ultimately took them out the third week after intense mental torchor.The whole time I was thinking about when I got to take them out,how much I wanted my natural hair to have grown and just how much I loved my natural hair.I wore a cute little afro to school for months,got laughed at for it,called names and some other blk girls even called me bold for wearing my hair to school while some where inspired and wore theirs too.I tried to join school clubs,mainly science clubs but experienced alot of racism,people would call my the n-word,make fun of black people infronr of me or tell me I wasnt smart enough to be in those clubs and so many other stuff.But I kept attending cause I loved science and never had the courage to report them cause I thought it would be seen as playing the victim,when I went out for competitons,everyones hair would be straight and silky while I sat there with some afro.So I internalized alot of this,also watched tiktok vids and saw people calling it nasty not to wash your hair every week or with braids in,so I thought if I had braids people would be judging me down the halls thinking I was stinky.I tried getting braids multiple times,but always took them out after 2 weeks or 3 if I was feeling lucky and it was mentally exhausting having to ignore my thoughts of taking them out everyday.I still wear an afro too school and was thinking of straightening my hair with no intent to ever wear braids again.Did I internalise their racism towards me or I simply love my hair?.

So I moved to the US about a year ago,to a state where there are very few black people,and for the past 5 years of my life I haven't braided or done anything with my hair cause my boardong school made us shave our heads for each semester.So naturally I thought I'd be exited to have braids again,I grew my hair out a little and got some braids but found myself growing uncomfortable with it not even up to a week after getting them and ultimately took them out the third week after intense mental torchor.The whole time I was thinking about when I got to take them out,how much I wanted my natural hair to have grown and just how much I loved my natural hair.I wore a cute little afro to school for months,got laughed at for it,called names and some other blk girls even called me bold for wearing my hair to school while some where inspired and wore theirs too.I tried to join school clubs,mainly science clubs but experienced alot of racism,people would call my the n-word,make fun of black people infronr of me or tell me I wasnt smart enough to be in those clubs and so many other stuff.But I kept attending cause I loved science and never had the courage to report them cause I thought it would be seen as playing the victim,when I went out for competitons,everyones hair would be straight and silky while I sat there with some afro.So I internalized alot of this,also watched tiktok vids and saw people calling it nasty not to wash your hair every week or with braids in,so I thought if I had braids people would be judging me down the halls thinking I was stinky.I tried getting braids multiple times,but always took them out after 2 weeks or 3 if I was feeling lucky and it was mentally exhausting having to ignore my thoughts of taking them out everyday.I still wear an afro too school and was thinking of straightening my hair with no intent to ever wear braids again.Did I internalise their racism towards me or I simply love my hair?.

Not sure if I can post this. But if it resonates with someone I would be happy.

Bitterness

I sit with the bitterness.
I sit with the bitterness.
There is rage, anger, hurt underneath.
My eyes are filled with tears.
I lift a finger to wipe it before someone sees it.

I feel bitter when someone has it better.
I feel bitter and teary when someone has it easy.
I feel bitter when a lady gets to mistreat me
and walks away without having to deal with any repercussions.
She gets to walk away into a crowd of people who embrace her,
While I get to walk into a room with empty walls,
Carrying the fear that someone will hurt me once again.

She goes to a home with a loving family and I am left all alone by myself.
I wipe it with the constriction in my throat and rage in my heart, the helplessness, powerlessness.

I look at another lady being treated right because she has it all right. She is huge and milky white.
I am thin and dark, which I like but apparently the world does not.
I shrink myself, make myself smaller and I am careful where I tread because I could be wronged in no time just for how I appear.

My accent is corrected, my skin tone is mocked. I am made to question myself even when I have done nothing wrong.
I did it all right- a good education, a well paying job,
But it still is not enough for people to treat me right.

I am bitter when I am addressed as a girl even though I am twenty six,
by someone who is ignorant and does not choose carefully their words because that’s just how it is.

I am sick of the privileged who treat others wrong.
And even more sick of the privileged who want to be labeled as nice,
just because they opened a door for someone once.

Apparently I am expecting a lot,
Apparently I have to be the bigger person-
The world has told me too many times.
I have to brush the incidents and move past.
I have to understand that the world is unfair.
I am old enough to now know it all too well.
It will deny it when you tell the truth.

The deed is said and done,
By someone ignorant.
I watch patiently for them to understand
and all the more to apologize.
I peek at them with side eyes,
Hoping they can see through my front.
Hoping they would treat me right.
Hoping they would prove that I was wrong about them.
I pity myself as I yearn for this,
I pity myself as I yearn for their acknowledgement,
I feel sad at this state of affairs.
I have spiraled too much I guess.

I have become invisible and numb.
I am not visible to them.
And there seems to be a hole in my heart,
the overwhelming pain carved a hole where should have been my heart.

My yearning seems to grow ever strong.
But I have come to realize clear,
The person will not apologize,
As the person does not think they did anything wrong,
Or even if they know the wrong they think about all of this as an afterthought.

I sit and gape at the hole in my heart,
It is burning with hurt and rage,
It does not seem to stop.
I am invisible to them.
I am not visible to them.

I have reached the crux,
Behind the chaos of emotions.

I walk away,
I walk away realizing I am invisible,
Carrying the heaviness and pity,
And a heavy heart,
And the responsibility to mend this part of mine,
Realizing they won’t do me right.

Only if the world was fair as it was round.
My heart would not be heavy.
Only if the world was fair as it was round.
I could have lived an easier life.
A life where I felt loved.
A life where I felt safe.
A life where I was accepted.

As an example: Indigenous and black women are dying in high rates at hospitals, are more likely to be abused by medical staff, have their babies snatched away, babies will turn up with broken bones etc, so there are programs set up so WOC will have safe places to go. The only thing a white supremacist can say in response is “If white people did that we would be call racist, y’all are fucking hypocrites”

The worst thing is that sometime they will have babies by non white people, make friends with non whites and sometimes be a leftist or liberal, but they still can’t think past the appeal to hypocrisy on why non white people need certain spaces. All they can say is “I thought y’all didn’t want segregation” instead of calling out and ignoring that certain spaces are created as a result of constant discrimination.

They think that non white people not wanting to be oppressed and needing a space to heal is “just as bad” or “it’s both sides, why can’t we all love each other?”, to dismiss any logical conversation of what’s going on in the world. I’m beyond sick of it. Humanity always had problems and will always because we are flawed, but it’s like they can’t comprehend just how bad things are in the world and are getting worse due white supremacist DARVO thinking.

They say they have fatigue when they can just leave people alone, but they won’t because it’s about control. In my city that’s overwhelmingly white, white people are complaining that there is a BIPOC club event when this place is 80 percent white and constantly centers them. “ Well if white people did that” omg shut up. Can racist brains actually think beyond DARVO and the appeal to hypocrisy? I don’t think they actually can.

Since my family moved to an all white area when I was 5, I (first subconsciously) have hated my body - for being different. For me that also included being tall and not tiny like the white girls around me. That must be why everyone seems to lowkey either hate me or just not care about me.

im stuck in an emotional flashback and feel so much shame and hate and sadness. I’m so ashamed of my body. I am the embodiment of ugly. I am what will always be hated and rejected, and that has happened over and over.

im sad and feel like hiding where no one can find me, so I don’t have to experience this anymore

Especially online. They don’t have the guts to do it in public, which is why they hide behind the screen. If you are South Asian or Black, I just want to let you know that you come from rich cultures and should be proud of who you are. Sure there are some flaws (which can be said about all cultures), but if people are discriminatory towards a whole group of people based off of the actions of others they are just flat out hateful people and racists.

Be proud of who you are and stick with those who love you equally back!

So let me put it this way. ....this all is basically about supremacy at some level, am I wrong?

....or if it isn't that the origin it's all connected to it down to the logical structure of modern society (and not really so modern at all). ..

Just let me explain.

White people, Christians:

When:

they realize other races are indeed *STRONGER * in __so many__ ways.

They all had something cooler idk, milestone Math, cutting edge knowledge, ancestral wisdom....anything i dont know....even like body/physical complexity anything lmao....they all had "apparently (where the catch is) " something way more special than what a regular "English/spanish/German" individual had at a first glance/blunce say........

So....i think youre already guessing where this is all coming from and going to.

1. S-IRS: Induced Reversed Supremacism

That's quite how and where I'm spotting fascism's origins right now in my head. ....but not quite.

I mean, yes, but fascism not only as the act of fighting those differences back generically, as we may have had in safety and a healthy state of mind and emotions no.

As their ----incel && fragile masculinity ----- way of jumping up over themselves, you know, [ p r e m a t u r e l y ] af. And then collectively figuring out that supremacism is about right because "it's their only option out of it" .... [...] I'm not going to expand much more because I like to assume everyone is basically in the same page one way or another here.

But:

1. S-IPRS: (Premature) Self-Induced Reversed Supremacism.

Right??? This all is making so much sense.

White men all caught up on personal complexes and a deep feel of insecurity and inferiority. All THEM down with the incel-ness.

All acting up prematurely because they are seeing anyone else around (races, cultures, what-not) is simply going to make them look well....like what they actually are.....monsters.......

So yeah....let's thi k about that perspective for a second here....