JESSICA TU

Displayed at Monash University, Caulfield Campus for the 2017 Graduate Show.

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Pencil on paper, Acrylic on paper, Pencil on tracing paper. Dimensions Varied.

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Content Warning: Trauma, Abuse, Mental Illness

Being able to understand and articulate trauma is such a form of privilege. Despite being an extremely confronting and anxiety inducing process, I feel more connected than ever with how I think and feel. "Stressful emotions can be passed from one generation to the next, but maternal buffering appears to provide an important damping effect, so that children are less affected than their parents. Children exhibit a form of resilience that is related in turn to their mothers wellbeing, quality of caregiving and environmental support, but traumatic events, such as those occurring in a conflict, may override this buffering." "In rising above the remnants of ones ancestors trauma, one helps to heal future generations."

My artist statement is in the form of a letter addressed to my mother. I know I can never show it to her without transmitting the experience of hell back onto her. Instead I'm sharing it with the world, because I am the storytelling generation, to make sure history never repeats itself.

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This letter I wrote addresses how I'm starting to understand how trauma works and how it impacts the people around you. One of my biggest fears is inflicting pain on others as a coping mechanism like how my mother does (and how her mother did to her), or subconsciously picking up habits or routines that are hurtful to the people around me. I have moments when I realise I'm just like my mother in certain ways, and it's so important for me to address those issues. I was having a discussion with my friend Alice (instagram: @yellowborders) the other day and they brought up points that were both validating and insightful. My mother used to be a lot more passive and subtle, so it was difficult during my childhood to realise and understand it was occurring or why I was feeling sad - it was just a norm for me. It wasn't until my mother became physically abusive that I was actually able to own up to it. Abuse doesn't just occur in extreme cases, subtle acts of abuse can still be harmful - especially in the long run. Alice sent me a tweet that said "someone who drowns in 7 feet of water is just as dead as someone who drowns in 20 feet of water. Stop comparing trauma, stop belittling your or anyone else's trauma because it wasn't 'as bad' as someone else's. This isn't a competition, we all deserve support and recovery". I can't even emphasise enough the amount of privilege I have in terms of being surrounded with the most supportive group of friends and a platform and resources to more comfortably share my feelings and experiences.

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My letter:

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Dear Mother,

I wish you could understand the amount of hurt and anxiety I've gone through and still go through because of your verbal and physical abuse, your constant passive aggressive behaviour, and all the unspoken rules of behaviours, conduct and routines I've learnt over time. The guilt I feel knowing the amount of pain and suffering you have gone through, becoming just like your own mother and mimicking the ways in which she treated you. Knowing and only being able to imagine what it would be like living through a war and fleeing your own country to survive. And working so, so hard to earn a better living and provide a privileged environment that your childhood lacked. I've tried to come to terms now with the fact that those experiences should not dismiss and accept abusive behaviour, and that my feelings of hurt, sadness and anger are valid. But I also understand now. I understand that I feel fits of anger when my friends don't arrive to plans on time because that's what he did. I understand that I always respond quickly when you call for me, ever since the day you left bruises along my backside because I took too long to respond. I understand that I turn all the lights off after me because you hate having the lights on and would yell at me for it. I understand that i don't turn on the heater when I feel cold, because you would complain that it gives you headaches and would hit me when I do turn it on. I understand now the feelings I get, it's the same as when you tell me you're sick because your chest feels tight and you're getting light headed.

 

I understand now. Do you?