America is Haunted
The Wounds of our Past and the Theology of Repair
Photo Credit: Gwendal Cottin
*This was written before the election of Donald Trump in November 2024
In the late nineties, I called into work in the French Quarter in New Orleans. I wasn't sick; I just had an uneasy feeling. Instead of going to work, I headed home to Oklahoma City. That morning on the shift I was supposed to work, three of my friends were murdered during a robbery.
After learning of the murders, I was devastated. I suffered from grief, survivor's guilt, and PTSD (Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder). After the tragedy, I experienced a spiritual conversion from agnosticism to Christianity. I truly felt that the God I had not believed in told me not to go to work that day—and that I listened for some reason. I embarked on a faith journey within American Christianity over the next two decades. I fell in love with the Scriptures. My faith in Jesus Christ has been a constant support over the years, though, unfortunately, people who claimed to represent Christ often disappoint.
In the early 2000s, I began to suffer again from PTSD and was told by a pastor—with no professional mental health experience—to "get over it." So, I tried to repress my trauma, but it didn't work. In fact, it made my symptoms worse. More than two decades later, I still sometimes struggle with anxiety. I may fear that something terrible has happened to someone I love when I can't reach them, or I become distressed when people say, "I have news." I have learned that trauma is not confined to the past. Trauma, whether physical, psychological, or societal, leaves its imprint on the present.
By 2024, psychologists had learned a significant amount about trauma. Bessel van der Kolk's book The Body Keeps the Score reveals how trauma is stored in our physical bodies and details the compound effects of trauma on health. Research has also advanced into generational trauma. For example, one study of Civil War veterans found that the children of those who had been Prisoners of War had much higher mortality rates. Other studies reveal similar intergenerational impacts, as if trauma imprints itself onto DNA and is passed from generation to generation.
In 2024, I hope no one will tell an individual to "get over" their grief or trauma after tragedy. Yet, as a society, we still tell Black Americans to "get over" the trauma of chattel slavery. To dismiss the past as though it has no relevance to the present is irresponsible. Trauma must be addressed, regardless of when it occurred. If you sustain a traumatic head injury one day and it continues to affect you the next day, you need to seek medical attention.
The same is true of psychological trauma—if it is ignored, it festers in the body and mind. As Jeremiah 6:14 in the Hebrew Bible says, "You can't heal a wound by saying it's not there!" As an American Christian and a descendant of enslaved Africans, I feel compelled to speak directly to the wound of chattel slavery and the American church's complicity.
The effects of 246 years of enslavement—forced labor, rape, torture, and the separation of families—followed by another 100 years of Jim Crow laws, chain gangs, KKK terror, gerrymandering, and redlining cannot simply be denied away. Their impact remains evident in 2025. In the past seventy years, policies like the War on Drugs and the 1994 Crime Bill contributed to a 700% increase in mass incarceration in the United States, disproportionately impacting Black and Brown communities. A recent Pew Research study showed that the typical white American family holds ten times the wealth of typical Black American family.
As a Christian, I view time cyclically through the liturgical calendar, which moves through the rhythms of Christ's life, death, and resurrection. Beginning with Advent, through Christmas, Lent, and Easter, the cycle invites us to see trauma not as something locked in the past, but as something that returns to us, offering opportunities for repair. This cyclical view allows us to break patterns of harm by addressing and healing what is broken. Both descendants of the oppressed and descendants of oppressors are marked by trauma—even those with no direct ancestral link but who live within its structural and financial legacies. Reparation is the balm for both the oppressed and the oppressor.
It is hard to say America's psyche is well. Major depression affects up to 21 million people. Fifteen percent of the country has been diagnosed with anxiety. Over half of people over age 12 report illicit drug use or misuse of prescription drugs. Each year, alcohol accounts for 88,000 deaths. In 2020, 24,000+ people died from gun-related injuries, and by April 2023, there had already been 160 mass shootings. In 2021, there were 48,183 suicides in the U.S.
America's psyche is haunted. Reparations appear throughout the Hebrew and Christian traditions: Luke 19:1–10, Leviticus 5, Ezra 1:7–11, Numbers 5:7, and Proverbs 14:9. Jesus himself said in Matthew 5:23–24: "If you are offering your gift at the altar and there remember that your brother or sister has something against you, leave your gift there in front of the altar. First go and be reconciled to them." In Exodus 12:35–36, the Israelites received treasure and gold from the Egyptians as reparations upon their liberation. It is time to heal our haunted landscapes and engage in transitional justice practices so that we can become a well society and build a new reality for future generations.