Healing Generations: How Wellness Movements Are Tackling Black Trauma

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For centuries, Black communities have carried the weight of historical trauma—an inheritance passed down through generations, shaped by the enduring legacies of slavery, colonization, systemic oppression, and displacement. This trauma doesn’t just exist in memory; it’s stored in our bodies, our nervous systems, and our collective consciousness, manifesting in chronic stress, anxiety, and the disproportionate health disparities that affect Black people today. 

But something powerful is also happening: we’re remembering.

In the past few years, Black communities have increasingly turned to ancestral healing traditions—practices that sustained our ancestors through hardship. Rooted in herbal medicine, spiritual rituals, communal healing, and energy work, these traditions are gaining greater visibility, not as fleeting trends but as essential tools for addressing historical trauma and breaking generational cycles. As a meditation facilitator and Ayurvedic educator, my journey has also deepened, drawing me toward ancestral healing in unexpected ways. And the more I connect with these traditions, the more I realize that healing is not just individual—it’s a collective reclamation of what was taken, commodified, forgotten, or suppressed.

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Historical trauma, a concept first introduced by Indigenous scholars, refers to emotional wounds passed through generations due to systemic oppression. For Black communities, this trauma is rooted in a history of violence, medical neglect, and economic marginalization. Research in epigenetics shows that trauma can be inherited, altering how future generations respond to stress. And so for Black folks, healing is also about tending to these encoded wounds, ensuring they’re not passed down any further.

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For decades, mainstream wellness overlooked the unique experiences of Black people, offering solutions that failed to address historical trauma. But now, a new wave of Black wellness practitioners is bringing ancestral traditions to the forefront—practices that have long been sources of resilience. This movement isn’t about adopting Western wellness ideals but about returning to what has always been ours.

Herbal medicine, woven into Black healing traditions from African spiritual practices to Hoodoo and Caribbean bush remedies, is receiving revived recognition. Black herbalists are working with plants not just for medicinal benefits but for their spiritual significance—using chamomile, skullcap, and passionflower to calm the nervous system, while rosemary and mugwort are incorporated into rituals for protection and strength.

Ritual has also long served as a grounding practice, even in times of displacement. Once dismissed as superstition, practices like altar work, ancestral veneration, and protective prayers are more widely recognized within our community for their psychological and spiritual value. In my own journey, I’ve found solace in simple acts—lighting a candle with intention, burning herbs while c my ancestors—a reminder that I am supported by those who came before me.

Meditation and embodied healing are key to addressing trauma stored in the body. Black practitioners are reframing mindfulness not as a way to detach but to feel deeply. Kemetic Yoga, drumming-based meditation, and breathwork are helping people release trauma stored in muscles and nervous systems. In my own practice, I encourage meditation as a practice of presence—honoring what arises instead of suppressing it.

Healing, however, is not just individual; it’s communal. Black healing has always occurred within the context of community—where stories are shared, burdens lightened, and joy cultivated as resistance. Black-led wellness spaces like The Nap Ministry, HealHaus, and Brooklyn Wellness Club provide places for us to gather, rest, and heal together. These spaces challenge the idea that wellness is a solitary pursuit and affirm that healing is a relational process.

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Rest, in particular, is being reframed as an act of liberation. The idea that productivity determines worth has harmed Black communities, perpetuating cycles of exhaustion. Movements like The Nap Ministry remind us that rest is not laziness—it’s reparative, disrupting systems that were never meant to sustain us. Choosing to rest is choosing to repair not just the body but the generational patterns that have kept us in survival mode.

The work of healing historical trauma is cyclical, ancestral, and deeply personal. For those of us engaged in this work, healing is not just about self-care—it’s about lineage care. When we heal ourselves, we send healing and transformation across all generations.

My journey has taught me that healing is not a destination but a process of remembering—a return to the wisdom that’s always been within us. Whether through meditation, herbal medicine, ritual, or communal healing, we are reclaiming what was never truly lost. In a world that has long sought to disconnect us from our roots, healing in ways that honor our ancestors is an act of revolution. And as we continue this work, we remind ourselves: we were never meant to heal alone.

Steph R. Long is a Chopra-certified Ayurvedic health educator, meditation instructor, and well-being coach. She’s also the founder of holistic wellness and coaching practice SRL Well-Being and the former Deputy Director of Enterprise for Refinery29 Unbothered, where she oversaw health, wellness, and spirituality content. For more wellness insights, follow her on Instagram and YouTube, and subscribe to her podcast.

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