“Witnessing Wounds, Weaving Healing: Reflections on Trauma, Justice, and Transformation”
By Sharmeen Hakim (UNC Global Studies ’26)
Summer 2025 AFE Blog Post Series
As I sat within the sacred darkness of a sweat lodge–an indigenous prayer and purification ritual–in the woods of Santa Cruz, California, I witnessed something remarkable. An American woman wept for immigrants targeted in ICE raids and for the war on starving children elsewhere. Within that dome of branches and blankets, amid the discomfort of molten rocks and stifling heat, her trauma came from pain of people she didn’t know or hadn’t met. In that moment, I learned a fundamental truth: the interconnectedness of trauma and the significance of storytelling in healing and peacebuilding. Peace not only is the absence of violence, but the presence of justice, and positive change. This moment created a framework that guided my summer AFE experiences—an exploration of individual healing and its intersection with collective liberation. Dismantling systems that perpetuate harm while facilitating spaces of transformation.
Two Complementary Lenses
As a journalist from India, I deliberately chose two diverse yet complementary experiences for my Summer AFE, each offering distinct perspectives and approaches for social change. My first AFE was with The Ahimsa Collective in Oakland, California—an organization supporting trauma healing within racialized communities while challenging punitive practices through innovative programming. This experience aligned with my research interests in carceral system transformation. My second AFE was with the Women’s International League for Peace and Freedom US (WILPF), America’s oldest feminist peace organization, founded in 1915 to oppose U.S. participation in World War I. Through the 110-year-old organization’s re-envisioning process, I researched campaign strategies and co-created three campaign concepts alongside WILPF women, specifically Linda Low, WILPF’s executive director and former Rotary Peace Fellow.
Serendipitous Beginnings
My path to Ahimsa was nothing short of serendipitous. I sent a cold email to Kazu Haga after reading his book Healing Resistance as part of my coursework. His innovative interpretations of Kingian and Gandhian nonviolence were thoughtful and interesting. Haga, a trainer and practitioner of nonviolence and restorative justice, not only responded, but connected me to amazing humans like Sandra Rodriguez & Seth Weiner at Ahimsa. Besides, Haga became a generous mentor during my internship, inviting me into both his work and the remarkable community of care he has cultivated in Oakland.
Haga’s home and the land it’s built on serves more than a residence—it functions as a microcosm of transformative justice principles, complete with a dedicated restorative justice room. When conflicts arise within the community, residents can articulate harm experienced and those who caused harm are invited to take accountability. Walking through these community spaces, I witnessed firsthand the difference between “calling people in” rather than “calling them out.” This distinction represents more than semantic preference; it embodies a fundamental shift from punitive to healing-centered approaches. The economic implications alone are staggering—considering the thousands of dollars spent incarcerating individuals versus investing in healing processes that address root causes rather than symptoms.
The Power of Circle Practice
The peak of my Ahimsa experience was participating in a week-long retreat with restorative justice practitioners from across the country, organized by Life Comes from It, its indigenous grant-making wing. Despite meeting most RJ practitioners for the first time, a single circle practice enabled deep connection – testament to the potential of structured dialogue and shared vulnerability. To contextualize this integral healing experience, restorative justice pioneer Fania Davis (sister of Angela Davis and an RJ practitioner for over three decades) defines RJ as “Justice that seeks not to punish but to heal. Justice that is not about getting even but getting well.”
Peace wall in Oakland
Sustaining Transformation
How does one sustain activism for a lifetime? The answer emerged through observation: when activism transcends employment to become calling, when transformation originates from within rather than external pressure, lasting change becomes possible. While critics of decolonial methodology often express concern about reverting to patriarchal structures, the indigenous RJ practitioners I encountered were actively constructing the more equitable world we collectively envision—promoting female leadership, honoring ancestral wisdom, and centering community care. The MILPA Collective whose recent success was bringing greater representation for indigenous youth in the city council was one such example. This experience provided crucial insights into how systems impact individuals while simultaneously demonstrating healing possibilities that initially seemed impossible. The work taught me that sometimes we must reach the depths of systemic failure to fully appreciate transformation potential.
WILPF: Organizational Care and Strategic Vision
My experience with WILPF illuminated the critical importance of care within organizational structures. Working alongside Linda Low, whose wealth of experience spans decades, I discovered how individual-centered approaches transform mistakes into learning opportunities rather than sources of shame. Linda’s mentorship extended beyond professional guidance—she welcomed me into her home, modeling the integration of personal and political. Through WILPF I learned how ill-researched campaigns set themselves up for failure at the outset. I also witnessed the power of will. WILPF women between 60-90 years who struggled with technology but still regularly showed up for zoom meetings and were eagerly and fearlessly willing to organize for disarmament. Through them I learned how established organizations can adapt to contemporary challenges without losing their foundational values.
Transcending Boundaries
During two transformative months traveling between Berkeley, Oakland, Santa Cruz, and Seattle, I encountered both the kindness of strangers and the determined resilience of immigrants. My experiences revealed truths about human connection that transcend constructed divisions. I met an Afghan woman who, despite being homeschooled under Taliban rule, surviving parental loss, and navigating displacement, had leveraged her U.S education (also through crowd sourcing) to develop programs for Afghan girls in her homeland. I experienced the unmatched warmth of a Pakistani woman who fed me without regard for our respective national origins, religious differences (she Sunni, me Shia), or language barriers—even skipping her prayers to support people whose ways she didn’t understand. These encounters demonstrated that racial, religious, and ethnic boundaries become permeable when we align around values of radical kindness, care, and generosity. From India to the United States, from North Carolina’s East Coast to Washington State’s western shores, such transcendence remains not only possible but essential.
The wounds we carry for others, as I learned in that sacred darkness, are not burdens but bridges—connecting us across vast distances and difference to our shared humanity and collective liberation.