OITNB: No spoilers here. No surprises. It's the same ol' song; We could sing along in harmony.
By Alexis Haynie (Writer, Actor, Scholar)
I knew, Episode 1. I knew. As soon as I heard "Let's start a race war...I'm bored." I knew.
And yet? I sat through through the whoooooooole thing. I voluntarily let the stress and anxiety course through my veins, contort my muscles.
You know what I was thinking? I'm going to write something about this. I'm going to process this in my body and its going to come out as some art that will help others process it. (Lex did that, so hopefully you ain't have to go through that)
I was going to write one of those thinkpieces but without an invalidating question for a title (Is Water Wet? Is Donald Trump Racist?)
Or I was going to write a poem. The kind of poem that made your heart stop and then made you so grateful you didn't die that you started to look at the world differently.
You know what I actually did? Cry. I just cried.
How do you process trauma when the injury is continually repackaged and sold to you? Reimagined and broadcast back to you?
Trauma as generational as poverty, as wealth. It lingers.How do I kneed away the phantom bullets lodged in my shoulder blades? How do I breathe deeply enough to get air to the spirits still suffering forced oxygen deprivation? What yoga pose can I hold my body in to convince it that it is safe?
I don't have the answers right now, Sway. But I am searching for them. I know it's hard to resist the urge to bingewatch. So if you look up at the end of the season and you find yourself searching for answers (other than what comes next) then seek support. Trauma is often amplified in isolation.
ALEXIS HAYNIE is a college student, writer, and feminist, from Arlington, TX who moved to NYC in search of a word. She hopes to spend her entire life looking for it.
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