There are trillions of nerves within the human body. These nerves can be damaged through an autoimmune disease, diabetes, infectious disease, and countless other ways. But what of the history we carry within us, the stories of our ancestors we carry within our bodies that can affect us in multiple ways from intergenerational trauma, a genetic predisposition to sickness, or even how our nervous system — responsible for detecting and responding to external stimuli, deeming the stimuli as either safe or dangerous — experiences the world around us? Jen Soriano’s memoir, "Nervous," explores the relationship between intergenerational trauma, the trauma we experience from the moment we are born to our current existence, and how we experience the world.
Jen Soriano (she/they) is a femme non-binary writer and activist. Their collection of essays, "Nervous," details their experience and journey to heal her physical pains and the pain that’s made a place within her genes. In "Nervous," she takes you on a journey through the earliest memories of her life and her travels while weaving in the Philippines’ history of colonization and her maternal lineage’s experiences during World War II and the Japanese occupation of the Philippines. She masterfully juxtaposes each of these elements, often switching between lyrical prose and an objective narrative of science and history. Their prose pulls at your heart while their narrative engages with your understanding and knowledge of colonial history and the importance of decolonization.
Soriano states early on: "This is a story I’m not supposed to tell. I’m supposed to continue a lineage of silence–be wordless in pain, resilient and productive, a walking American dream. But my body speaks in a language of grief and suffering and with words of longing, liberation, and love."
It’s a sentiment that a lot of us are familiar with, the idea of saving face by sweeping the problem under the rug, the grin-and-bear-it mentality. Especially when Filipinxs are described as having a spirit so water-proof that even super typhoons can’t wipe the smiles off their resilient faces. But for this resilience to exist, it requires, as Soriano stated, "longing, liberation, and love. "
"Nervous" embodies those three words. A longing for relief from pain; for an answer as to why one’s body reacts to otherwise safe-seeming situations the way that it does; for sovereignty over one’s body and the land of Indigenous people; and for the emotional support of one’s caregivers. Sentiments of liberation from the colonial mentality that continues to take hold of many; from genes that have been so affected repeatedly by trauma that one can emerge from the womb already struggling with CPTSD; and from systems of oppression that continue to gaslight folks of color. And love; Soriano writes so much about love.
Love for oneself, love for those closest to us, love for community, love for liberation, and a love which is both fierce and gentle for those who came before her who may not have understood how the traumas they experienced and the traumas of their ancestors may not have allowed them to love others as fiercely and fully as they could have. Soriano addresses this with the paragraph: "When one generation is simply preoccupied with survival, the trauma response continues, and often worsens, in future generations, until trauma can begin to be processed. Only when we face this historical trauma response—which can range from grief and illness to depression and addiction—can healing begin both for the individual and for the generations that come before and beyond."
Soriano’s "Nervous" is a worthwhile and necessary read. As a reader, you end up wanting to cheer her on, hoping and praying for them to find relief from their bodily pains and ailments. Women or femmes in particular feel Soriano’s frustration as constantly being told that your pain is unimportant. I heed every future or potential reader with caution, especially other Filipinxs or anyone whose history includes the violence of colonization to give yourself breaks as you read Nervous. As much as I didn’t want to put the book down, the details Soriano provides are full of hard and violent truths that can bring on a visceral reaction within one’s body. As a fellow Filipinx American, reading the details Soriano includes in the essays "War-Fire" and "381 Years" brought on stomach aches and malaise. I felt Soriano’s mixture of emotions in "War-Fire" and I felt both anger and joy in "381 Years." Anger from the devastation and violence placed upon our people and ancestors. Joy from the ways our very same people and ancestors fought back, their resilience for freedom, and how even today, we find ways to continue on and to thrive.
We are all experiencing this life for the very first time. For those like Soriano, we feel as if we’ve been swimming against currents as we try to navigate the world around us with a little less fear and anxiety unlike how our nervous systems have been wired. So be gentle, not only with those around you but with yourself as well. Because in that gentleness comes a quietness that will allow us to hear the belly laughs of our ancestors whose joy we have inherited. And in their joy and through healing — as "Nervous" teaches us — we are capable of thriving.