Generational Trauma

How we can end the cycle

I was in line at a corner store next to a mother and her three kids. She had $11 in her hand and was doing math out loud to figure out what she could afford. Her oldest—maybe 9 years old—was already scanning the items, trying to predict what they’d have to put back. You could see it in the boys eyes. Hyper-awareness. Tension. Shame. That child wasn’t just learning math—he was learning survival.

That’s what generational trauma looks like.

It’s in the quiet pressure. The constant calculations. The inherited fear of not having enough, being too much, or never catching a break. Poverty doesn’t just live in paychecks—it lives in our nervous systems. And when it lives there long enough, it gets passed on.

What I want to explore here isn’t a checklist of trauma types. It’s the shared current that runs through slavery, incarceration, domestic violence, and poverty—and how they tangle into the roots of our family trees. This isn’t about history. It’s about what’s happening right now in living rooms, classrooms, and inside our own bodies. It’s about how the past leaks into the present and how we can start sealing those cracks.

The DNA of Distress: What Science Tells Us

Epigenetics—a relatively new field—shows us that trauma can actually alter gene expression, and those changes can be passed to future generations. In a landmark study, Dr. Rachel Yehuda found that Holocaust survivors and their children had measurable biological markers related to stress and cortisol regulation—signs of trauma embedded in their biology. Similar research has been applied to the descendants of enslaved Africans and other historically oppressed populations.

But the numbers only tell part of the story.

Consider the story of Erica Garner, daughter of Eric Garner, who was killed by police in 2014. Erica became a fierce advocate for justice—but she died at 27 of a heart attack. Doctors say she had an enlarged heart, worsened by stress. Her trauma was generational. She carried her father’s death, the fight that followed, and the historical weight that came before him. Her story is a modern reminder that trauma doesn’t just echo—it compounds.

Trauma from slavery didn’t end with emancipation—it morphed into segregation, economic disenfranchisement, police violence, and mass incarceration. These layers compound, each generation learning to navigate a new form of the same pain.

In my own life, I’ve seen how incarceration doesn’t just impact the one behind bars. It warps the entire family dynamic. The absence of a parent is a silent void that kids try to fill with whatever is near—anger, detachment, rebellion. And the systems surrounding them—school, policing, housing—often mirror the harshness they inherited.

Domestic violence, too, travels through families like a bad inheritance. The National Child Traumatic Stress Network reports that more than 60% of children who witness violence in the home will experience future relationship struggles or replicate the cycle. And often, this isn’t just physical abuse—it’s emotional starvation, volatility, and silence.

Maybe you’ve seen it in yourself: the short fuse, the anxiety when things feel too good, the inability to rest even when things are quiet. Maybe it’s the way you parent your kids with fear instead of presence. Or maybe it’s the way you sabotage peace because it feels unfamiliar.

Studies by Dr. Nadine Burke Harris have shown that high ACE (Adverse Childhood Experiences) scores increase the risk for heart disease, cancer, diabetes, and even early death. The body keeps the score, yes—but the soul remembers too.

Trauma isn’t just a bad memory. It’s a shift in how we perceive safety, how we attach in relationships, and how we see ourselves in the world. And unless we become conscious of those shifts, we operate from the wound instead of from the wisdom.

Recognizing the Loop—and Climbing Out

So how do we break the cycle? Awareness is step one.

Ask yourself: Is this reaction mine, or is it inherited? Is this belief rooted in truth or in protection? What am I passing down through silence, through fear, through the way I show up in conflict?

Tools like therapy, journaling, trauma-informed coaching, and somatic practices can help. But more than anything, it takes commitment. To pause. To ask questions. To stay present when it’s uncomfortable.

One of the most accessible frameworks comes from Dr. Thema Bryant, psychologist and president of the American Psychological Association, who teaches that healing includes:

Awareness: Naming the trauma

Engagement: Seeking safe spaces to process

Rewriting: Creating new responses and behaviors

As she often says, “Your trauma is not your fault, but your healing is your responsibility.”

This isn’t about blame. It’s about power.

The same way trauma can pass through generations, so can healing. Children can inherit our emotional literacy, our boundaries, our sense of safety and self-worth. The moment you decide to do something different—you begin to interrupt the pattern.

We are not broken people. We are people who’ve carried too much for too long. But what we carry, we can learn to set down.

You don’t owe pain your loyalty. You don’t have to keep reenacting a story that doesn’t serve you.

The wounds we carry are real—but they aren’t the whole truth.

You are allowed to feel it. You are allowed to heal it. And most importantly—you’re allowed to leave it behind.

Stay focused and keep healing.

-Troy Rienstra