Choose compassion, kindness, or silence as responses to people’s trauma

Makeda was the person I missed the most during the COVID-19 pandemic. People would be having discussions about personal grief, and I unashamedly confessed that my longing was to have my nails done.

From 2020 to 2022, like most people, I found ways to manage life’s necessities, but beyond that, I hated that the proximity of the nail tech did not promote safe distancing. And as soon as salons reopened, I was on the Eastern Main Road, Champs Fleurs, driving up from Moruga for a manicure and pedicure and a reunion.

The news of the death of Makeda Sade Swift last Friday has deeply traumatised me. She was such a gentle soul, so beautiful and considerate, so professional and personable. The death she died does not fit the life I knew. My friends who are her friends all agree she did not deserve a graphic, violent death. Her circle did not need this trauma.

My deepest condolences to her parents, siblings, friends, relatives, clientele and all who mourn.

Before Makeda’s demise, I had been taken by news of the suicidal death of Richard Cooper, a husband and father of three from San Fernando. The circumstances that may have prompted his death, as reported, were disheartening.

That he “became unemployed” when he was “laid off” is a common story in recent times, with contract cancellation under several programmes and projects. In these past months, looking at the freshly populated breadlines, I have had numerous thoughts about how people, now unemployed, are coping.

I do not know of any support programmes or interventions that specifically target the newly unemployed following the new administration’s decisions that have left many unwaged and without hope.

This death left me thinking how each of us responds to difficulties and challenges differently. For some, especially without knowing him or the depth of the circumstances, Cooper’s situation may not seem to warrant a life-or-death decision, but I caution that no two people’s experience of a situation is ever the same. No one can tell me what I feel, nor can they measure the depth of what I experience.

Each of us assumes that the other should respond in a certain way based on our experience, but what informs my life, my hope, my resilience, and my decision-making is a combination of factors unique to me.

Cooper’s death impacted me. I never knew him, but I experienced the helplessness and inadequacy I feel when someone dies by suicide. This happened too, as I was thinking about my advocacy as we observe World Suicide Prevention Day globally, on September 10.

When someone loses hope, we cannot judge. We should not judge. I am so sorry for this loss. My deepest sympathies are with those who knew and loved him and all who mourn his death.

Equally, when someone expresses their hurt or injury, despite our feelings about the situation, and especially since we may not know all the details, we are ill-equipped to make judgements. Rather, in this troubled world where everyone needs some level of emotional healing, we should practice rushing to compassion and kindness and suspending judgement.

In this instance, I recognise and salute the courage of former Miss Trinidad and Tobago Aché Abrahams, for speaking out about her experience in the pageant world, which she said left her emotionally, mentally and financially drained.

Abrahams said she suffered severe depression and anxiety, and had to seek therapy during the period she was the title holder. She also said that her advocacy was to alert others like her who were considering beauty queen pageantry.

I was moved with empathy for what Abrahams said she suffered. Looking back at her Beauty With a Purpose initiative, I discovered that she struggled with depression and anxiety in her teenage years. According to www.missworld.com, she said, “I’ve seen and experienced the struggle, the pain, the ugliness and the stigma first-hand” and stated she was ready to use new learning “to ensure no one suffers in silence.”

Walking with my eyes wide open into the rabbit hole of Facebook comments, it was heartening to see the many supportive words. That is until I came upon the ones who felt it necessary to disparage Abrahams’ suffering and openness.

“Sound like a spoilt child who can’t get her way and decides to throw a tantrum and get mummy to help her get her own way,” was one example of the vilification which went on for another full painful sentence.

Mercy Lord! Help me not to fall into the same trap as these cruel, brute beasts with whom we share social media platforms, but just to say, to the commenter and others like him who do not know when to speak or choose silence, please take a seat.

Many are hurting from life’s challenges and traumas. The world does not need more crassness or spiteful words. We do not know what or who caused your hurt but, as we seek resolve for our own issues, we hope you will come upon your own intervention.