chapter 4:
systemic and multifaceted mental health issues in the Black community
chapter 5:
the importance of protecting personal peace
chapter 6:
the influence of societal constructs and personal experiences on perception of beauty
chapter 7:
identity, representation, & consequences of stereotypical portrayals
chapter 8:
foundations of identity and early influences
chapter 9:
the African sacred feminine and historical stereotyping
chapter 10:
reflecting on precolonial societies and their relevance today
protect your peace!
about the author
foreword
With deep personal resonance and great pleasure, I introduce Protecting My Peace by Elizabeth Leiba. In the following pages, you will embark on a journey that promises to be liberating, moving, and educational for anyone who turns the first page.
Workplace trauma resonates deeply with many, and this book directly addresses our collective experiences in corporate settings. This book explores the impacts of workplace trauma while validating the experiences so many of us have had.
As I delved into the manuscript, I was immediately struck by the depth of knowledge, passion, and truth that Elizabeth Leiba brings to the topic of healing from and moving past trauma. This book is a testament to the lived experiences that many of us have endured but haven’t yet learned to navigate.
As a psychological safety consultant, I recognize and spend much time thinking about how workplace trauma shifts our mental health and personal stories. Unfortunately, workplace trauma has been the exchange we have made for a paycheck for over a century. Workplaces worldwide cover their unsafe organizations with phrases like “It’s just start-up culture!” or “It’s about culture fit!” for too long.
We have been asked to trade giant pieces of ourselves, our happiness, and our lives to be considered worthy of a job, a promotion, a title, or simply respect. Too often, organizations offer mere lip service to addressing workplace trauma instead of implementing actionable change.
This book changes everything.
Elizabeth Leiba challenges and reshapes our understanding and approach to workplace trauma. In a world where microaggressions, racism, and harm in the workplace have become normalized, she is unafraid to speak her truth, share her narrative, and provide a road map for individuals to heal from these toxic environments. Her unflinching address of these issues is vital.
One of the most powerful parts of Protecting My Peace is the way in which Leiba effortlessly combines rigorous research with personal narrative. By intertwining her experiences with the broader narrative, she invites us into her world to see how work can shape our experiences and mental health. This book helps to bridge the connection between capitalism, workplace trauma, and their impact on our lived experience. While many of us can relate to the strains workplaces can inflict, there’s a path forward highlighted in these pages.
I immensely admire Elizabeth Leiba’s ability to distill complex topics and data, making them accessible. This book is a testament to her skill in breaking down intricate concepts, making them understandable for experts and novices.
Whether you are looking to heal from workplace trauma or simply create better workplaces, Protecting My Peace promises to engage, educate, and inspire. It is a tribute to the power of Black voices and going after what we deserve in work and life. We all deserve safety, healing, and peace—and not just in our homes.
I invite you to embrace changing the narrative with Elizabeth Leiba. Prepare to be moved, to feel anger, joy, and a whirlwind of emotions.
You deserve a life filled with peace, and this book allows us all to take a collective deep breath and move a step closer to a world where we are empowered to protect our peace.
Madison Butler
Chief Experience Officer
GRAV
August 31, 2023
chapter 1
personal
journey and
realizations
“Loving oneself isn’t hard when you understand who and what ‘yourself’ is. It has nothing to do with the shape of your face, the size of your eyes, the length of your hair, or the quality of your clothes. It’s so beyond all of those things, and it’s what gives life to everything about you. Your own self is such a treasure.”
—Phylicia Rashad
What does protecting your peace, a state we often struggle to define, look like to you? Most of us have a vague idea of what that looks like. But pinpointing it can be elusive. And we’re not sure exactly how to get there. For some, it looks like a blue sky with the sun peeking through a fluffy white cloud. Or like a grassy field of dandelions that we can frolic through and blow fluffy white clouds on green stems to make our dreams come true. For others, it smells like incense, sage, and essential oils. How about lavender or jasmine bubbling gently in a bamboo diffuser? While we wait to enjoy the delectable meal we know will be worth the wait, it smells like our mothers’ cooking on a Sunday night, and the first bite is a warm taste of heaven.
Peace feels like seeing an Outlook calendar blank for the day, just like an untouched canvas waiting for us to paint our day. It feels like a warm squeeze from our best friend—a hug that feels as comforting as a fluffy blanket on a cold day. That feeling of safety from the world, even if only for a few moments. We never want it to end and giggle once it does, only to give one more squeeze for the road. It feels like the relief that comes when our ride pulls up to airport arrivals. We sigh and smile because we’re home. We are where we belong.
When delving deeper into the notion of peace, we inevitably confront the questions: Do we mean Zen? Rest? A spa day? Relaxation? A massage? But how do we relax when our minds are constantly racing? Yet, despite its enticing imagery, for most of us, peace seems so hard to come by, and if we have it in any measure, we want to protect it at all costs. It’s painfully fleeting, so the question arises: How can we truly achieve and maintain it? We don’t have time to take stock of what it is, let alone enjoy it. We want to bask in it, but first, we must find it. And there don’t ever seem to be enough hours in the day. There’s so much to do.
The struggle doesn’t stop there. There’s so much we want to say, but how do we find the words to express the weariness we feel? Yes, we are tired. We are exhausted. And the fear of telling anyone that we are running on empty is enough to make us ignore that we are pouring from an empty cup. We’re giving ourselves to everyone willingly and selflessly. But who is filling us up? How do we replenish what has been depleted, and why can’t we identify the source of the tension we constantly feel? We can’t explain it, so we ignore that nagging question and “power through” it all. The weight of the world bears down on us, yet we’re still expected to keep pushing through.
The burdens become heavier as the days go on. We’re tired of fighting. We find ourselves worn out from the relentless demands of life. We shouldn’t have to bear it all. We shouldn’t have to save the world. We need to take off our capes and save ourselves. Just as flight attendants advise passengers to secure their own oxygen masks before assisting others, we need to prioritize our own well-being first. We must do that before assisting others like small children, the elderly, our neighbors, our coworkers, our siblings, our best friend from high school, our sorority sisters, the people at church, and the homeless family panhandling at the gas station. The list goes on and on. But somehow, we are always the last checkbox, instead of being at the top of the list.
Moreover, the pain of always being last on the list intensifies. As the weight mounts, it becomes clear: We’re tired of pretending that we’re okay. We’re not okay. And that’s okay. It’s natural to feel exhausted when you’re constantly faced with situations that make you feel overworked, undervalued, underpaid, and overlooked. This exhaustion is not just physical but also emotional and mental, as the energy we spend justifying our worth can be debilitating. If we know that, then we can figure out how to fix it. You can’t fix what you don’t name. You can’t heal when you don’t acknowledge your hurt. You can’t grow without stretching yourself to learn that protecting your peace does not have to mean sacrificing yourself. Protecting your peace means prioritizing yourself. And by prioritizing yourself, you can begin to feel whole again and leave behind that nagging feeling that something is wrong that you’re afraid to identify or name.
What do I mean by whole again? Many of us have been broken, whether we realize it or not. For many of us, recognizing our struggles is the first step on a healing journey. But there are those among us who have yet to begin this journey of self-awareness and healing.
For those who keep telling us to forget our past, our pain, and the horrors endured by our foremothers, why? We have to name our hurt and pain to understand where the generational trauma is coming from. Only then can we call foul to those who would erase our history from the history books, gaslight us, and tell us to “stop being divisive” and move on. Anyone who has been through trauma knows that part of the healing process is acknowledging and understanding that we are not to blame for our doubts, insecurities, or reactions to this daily assault on our senses. The ultimate gaslight is creating an alternate universe and narrative that forces us to forget the past and believe that it never happened, that if it did, it’s irrelevant to our existence today.
Both from anecdotes shared by our parents, mentors, and friends, as well as from our personal experiences, we’ve learned there’s no point in going from pet to threat. These bills have got to get paid, Baby Girl. You already know that. And nobody needs to see those tears. We tell ourselves there’s no point in crying because our tears cause resentment. Confusion. Suspicion. Fear! No one will pat us on the back, comfort us, thank us for our vulnerability, or compliment us for our “self-awareness.” We’ll receive no “kudos” for highlighting the importance of mental health and well-being from coworkers, friends, or strangers.
