Housing Insecurity and Trauma

During my junior year of college, I experienced a sudden loss in my family that caused a great financial strain on my household. The following year was full of turmoil and struggles to support my mother in making mortgage payments. When I got to my senior year, it was decided that we needed to give up on our house and seek new housing, yet I was faced with many complications. Due to certain circumstances, I would now need to live on my own. This posed a problem as I did not make enough money to afford housing. Struggling with my mental health from two years of sudden and unfortunate stressors, I could not fathom how I would be able to make enough income to afford housing alone while still going to school full-time. It was a time full of fear and uncertainty as I considered not having a roof over my head in the upcoming month. Fortunately, I was ultimately able to use my savings to move into on-campus housing; however, the effects of facing housing insecurity stayed with me.

In class, we discussed how housing insecurity can be connected to trauma, which made me realize the true impact of housing insecurity on my mental health. The experience of becoming or almost becoming homeless is traumatic in itself; you lose stable shelter, lose routines, likely face food insecurity, and may face great uncertainties with your future in general. The experience can also possibly connect to other traumatic experiences such as the loss of a loved one, as mine did. Building stressor over stressor, it is easy for housing insecurity to wear down one’s mental health and coping mechanisms. This is important to consider when thinking of how to address housing insecurity problems in a community, as trauma can have influences on an individual’s ability to effectively function, trust, and cope.

What are you Reading? - Where the Crawdads Sing

If you have been keeping up with the so-called “social bubble”, then this book probably already sounds familiar to you. Maybe you’ve even heard of the film adaptation that has recently been added onto Netflix. Whichever the case, Where the Crawdads Sing by Delia Owens has taken the literary world by storm – and for good reason.

Owens’s most popular novel is a masterclass in keeping the reader at the edge of their seat (or bed, or wherever their personal reading hideaway is…) The primary plot, which we are introduced to on the very first page, is a classic whodunnit. Yet, the book is unique in its presentation of the perfect combination of murder mystery and coming-of-age story. What Owens does throughout her novel is divide the chapters up within separate explicit time periods. So you could be reading about what happened in May 1965, then instantly be transported to the goings-on in August 1991. This may sound odd at first, yet Owens’s clever execution of this narrative method basically gives us two stories at once; two stories which tend to line up in their content and the information they reveal to us, that is. We are able to gather how the protagonist, Kya, developed as a character during her younger years. Simultaneously, we learn about the progressive puzzle that is developing in the present. This keeps the reader gasping, nodding, and shaking their head with every turn of the page.

Another concept that paves its way throughout the novel is that of science. Owens has a background in zoology, and it definitely shows within her work. Maybe you could have even guessed that from the title. Many pages are chock-full of wildlife references, animal anatomy, botanical terminology, and so on. What this does is truly bring the novel’s backdrop of the marshes of North Carolina to life. Owens keeps us hooked with the knowledge of biology that she scatters throughout, which I think absolutely makes the chapters that much more interesting to read. Plus, zoology is what helps define the protagonist, who we learn early on has a reputation as the “Marsh Girl”. But, if you want all the details, I’m afraid you’re going to have to read the book!

In short, Owens’s novel is an absolute thrill to read. It was so much fun trying to solve the mystery before the answer was revealed, and constantly changing my theories every time a new piece of information was given. Moreover, the coming-of-age portion did an amazing job at making me invested in the story and the main character, while also teaching me all about wildlife. The ending is super satisfying, but what Owens does leave hanging is really the biggest mystery of all: Where do the crawdads sing?

My rating: 4.8/5

Pick up if you like: wildlife + animals, solving the murder, strong protagonists

Maybe don’t if you hate: time jumps, romance subplots, violent characters

Naya Changes My Mind

A friend told me about a Pinterest trend – organize books on shelves by color. 

“Who would do such a thing?” I asked.  “Certainly not a reader.”  I shuddered remembering that design trend of pasted book bindings on wooden blocks.

My home and work shelves are organized by genre and author (alphabetically). The only deviation from this system: a  bookcase with six shelves, each one devoted to a class I teach regularly.  I know where my books are; I can find them easily. I only lose books when I lend them out, and they don’t make their way back to me.  

I would never find a book if I had to remember the color of its binding. 

The class visited our community partner, Shade Tree. We disbursed to fill the book shelves on

three different floors. Naya and her group went to the second floor, and I found them there vigorously arranging and discussing. Naya, a graphic artist, suggested they arrange by color.  

Inside, I recoiled.  I don’t remember what I said, probably something like, “Are you sure?  How can you find anything?”

Then she quite rightly pointed out that most of these readers will not look for something specific. The goal was to entice them to come to the shelves and to pick up a book.  

Yes, she had a point.  Still, I had to leave the room, so they could organize in peace, without my unasked questions and comments disturbing the atmosphere.  

When I returned – those questions disappeared.  I found cluttered shelves and boxes replaced by art.

In Bittersweet: How Sorrow and Longing Make Us Whole, Susan Cain cites a study that “found that the simple act of viewing beautiful art increases activity in the pleasure reward centers of the brain” (63-64).  

Those shelves - they were lovely.  Naya and her fellow students  played with color and shape as they arranged our book donations.  I could well imagine someone coming into the room,

stopping short, then approaching those shelves, first to admire and touch (that impulse to touch, the bane of every museum guard) and then to read.  

To be clear, this method would not work for me.  I am not going to rearrange my office.  When I go to my shelves, which I do frequently (it’s in my job description), I will continue to rely on genre, title, and author.  But at that moment on the second floor, my perspective shifted.  I could acknowledge that yes, maybe some people in some situations could arrange books by color (and still be readers). In some cases, this approach might work best. 

I know, I know, how open-minded of me. 

However, aren’t such shifts in perspective a goal of education?  We come to campus (virtually or in person) to engage with the past and the present to contribute to the future. We consider

alternative perspectives through reading, listening, research, discussion, and our understanding expands. This process can take place in a lab, in a classroom, on the benches outside Lied Library. We just want it to happen. 

Once again, the student teaches the teacher.