Raising the bar

Without warning the responsibility of planning the next family reunion, an event I dreaded more than anything in the world, fell on me. Immediately my palms began to sweat and I was sure the pounding in my head could be heard three blocks over. Falling into my chair, I listened as a distant aunt explained who did it before and had to hand it over to someone else who died and how she contacted all of the elders in the family and they agreed that it was time for me to take it over. Listening to her explain what went into every detail of planning an event this large made a murder wall in my mind where every point was connected to others with strings of red yard. List after list was rambled off to me as I scribbled notes as fast as I could. My stomach threatened to send a geyser of vomit into the universe.

I tried to tell her that I couldn't do it, but there was literally no way out of it. She overcame every objection with so much ease. It left me wondering why she never took up a career on Wall Street. This frail old woman could talk the most frugal person in the universe into handing over their life savings to buy stock in a company they completely hated.

Two hours later while pouring tea my mind wandered through memories of family reunions of the past, each causing more pain than the last. Everything always felt so forced. I was forced to go when I didn't want to. I was forced to see people who had caused me harm, both physically and mentally. I was forced to hug uncles who's fingers had wandered into places no uncle's fingers belong. Uncles who all of the family would joke about being creepy but never do anything to stop. Uncles parents still forced their children to be around, hug, and even sit with.

Everyone celebrated a family that only existed in the careful crafting of stories chosen to paint a perfect picture. A picture I always wished would burn to the ground every other year. For decades before me this terrible tradition kept taking place, and I knew it would still be happening decades after I was gone. It was like thinking of a scene in a scary movie where the people you thought you knew were monsters underneath, the cups they drank from were filled with blood, and the food on the table was really rotten and seething with maggots.

When I became an adult I fought to shed every terrible person who ever crossed boundaries that caused trauma but still I was pulled back every other year to this terrible event. Even though I tried with all I had to claw my way out of my family and keep my children safe from its offenders, there was still an expectation to be there.

Now for some reason I couldn't understand, it was up to me. Invitation lists, finding a venue, menu planning, organizing activities, and choosing the theme so matching shirts could be designed all fell on me. All the while, I couldn't stop thinking about the newest generation of children who was about to experience four days of trauma because of me.

Most days I spent staring at the email list of names and addresses until tears broke the barriers of my eyelids and crashed to the desk while my lungs felt like they would shrivel up and die. Every time I tried to pick up the phone to call the camp ground we always used, memories of hearing someone sneak into a tent they shouldn't be in nearby choked me. Some days I screamed and closed my laptop, sobbing. Nothing got planned for two weeks. When my distant aunt called me to check on my progress, I lied and told her it was going fine instead of screaming into the phone that I hated this family like I wanted to.

Sometimes epiphanies fall from space with such force that they shape the entire landscape of your life. It hit me with equal amounts of fear and excitement: It's not that I have to plan the next family reunion, I get to plan the next family reunion. Ideas flew through my mind faster than I could grasp them and I wrote notes so fast that I thought my pencil lead might actually ignite.

Knowing there was going to be a huge fallout in the aftermath, I started crossing names off of the list because I knew they weren't safe. I asked my children if there were any people in our family that made them feel unsafe and crossed those off the list. It gave us an opportunity to talk about how things can't just get swept under the rug because a person is family. Deep meaningful conversations followed and a new and enriching depth of trust and respect was found within the walls of our home.

Matter of fact, I crossed off so many names that the only ones remaining were mine, the names of my children, my mother and father, five cousins and their children, two aunts, two uncles, and my only living grandmother. Planning for so few people was an easy task. One by one, I called each safe family member and explained that I cannot plan a family reunion knowing that it was going to cause and further trauma. Surprisingly, every single one of them agreed. A letter was crafted by all of the family involved in the new and improved reunion plans and was sent out to everyone who wasn't invited.

Of course this caused an uproar in the family. Ties were broken, relationships ended, and the uninvited tried to start feuds, but none of us took the bait. Instead, we had brainstorming sessions on how to make this the first best family reunion ever. In all of her wisdom, my grandmother proposed that we don't limit this just to family and encouraged us to invite the members of our tribe, what she calls non blood related chosen family. Everyone was onboard and started making lists of people in their lives they considered family. We even decided to call it a tribe reunion rather than a family reunion.

Plans were set. A venue was rented, matching shirts were printed, the menu was selected, events were organized, and when it was all said and done, 75 people came to our first ever tribe reunion. Stories were shared around campfires about how family reunion experiences were unsafe and traumatic for so many people. We educated our children and promised to try and only create safe environments for them, never to force them to hug anyone, and ultimately never force them to go somewhere that makes them uncomfortable and fearful for their safety.

That was the first tribe reunion ten years ago. Since then we have had five tribe reunions that include speakers and educators who further our education so that we can move through this world trauma informed, survivor sensitive, and warriors for what is right. Reports have been made and offenders have been put on trial. Nothing happened to some while others were convicted. Real healing within families has begun for the first time in history. Other tribe reunions have been formed by other families who feel the same way about family reunions.

Family members who were not invited have continued their tradition of a family reunion every two years. Even though we all still send each other Christmas cards, none of us have been invited since the creation of the tribe reunion, and we're all just fine with that.