Lately, people have been asking me how I keep going despite the adversities I have faced. I often hear words like strong and resilient, but for me, resilience was not something I simply had. It was a choice.

At a certain point in my healing journey, when I began to understand how cycles of trauma and violence are passed down, I made a conscious decision: I would not repeat them. My resistance would be in breaking the cycle. I would not allow my pain to make me bitter, cold, or cruel. Instead, I would transform it into kindness and empathy. I would not do to others what was done to mean, not if I could help it.

A few months ago, I sat with an Indigenous friend I deeply respect. She looked me in the eye and said, You are a warrior, a wounded one. Her words broke something open in me, and I cried. Then she added, I am a warrior too, a wounded one as well. I looked at her and said, I know. That’s why you recognized it in me. She also cried.

There is a shared knowing among those who carry generational wounds. I see it in many Indigenous nations, the unspoken but deeply felt understanding of what it means to survive, to grieve, to resist.

Is resilience a choice? Or is it a coping mechanism? Maybe both.

I had to grieve the choices I never got to make, the paths I never had the chance to walk. I had to mourn the life I might have chosen if only I had known a world where people didn’t live in survival mode, always bracing for the next loss, the next wound. And I learned from Indigenous teachings that grief is not just about what was lost; it is also about what could have been.

Resilience, for me, is not just survival. It is survival with intention. It is choosing to transform rather than repeat. It is grieving and growing at the same time.

And above all, it is an act of defiance. Our very existence is a form of resistance, a proof that despite everything, we are still here.

#LeadWithEmpathy
#BreakTheCycles
#NoOneIsFreeUntilWeAreAllFree ✊🏼