My Drunk Uncle Was Not The Problem

No family tree is without its broken branches. For example, every family has that one uncle — the one who shows up to family functions smelling like a mix of cigarettes and their favorite brand of beer.  He’s funny, loud, and unpredictable. As children we might’ve viewed him as the life of the party, but as we grew older, we realized that there was a dark cloud hovering over him. As adults, we started to understand those slurred words had more pain in them than humor. But as a kid you’re not taught to acknowledge the behavior and ask questions. Even if you asked, I doubt that you would’ve gotten an answer that included a mental illness diagnosis.

The Family Story No One Wanted to Tell

In many families, the “drunk uncle” is more than just a relative who drinks too much. They can also be your brother battling psychosis that chooses to isolate himself because he is paranoid. Or it's the aunt with high highs and intense mood swings who never got her bipolar disorder treated. She was just happy to see you at the cookout, but now she’s cursing everyone out, but no one (including her) knows what triggers her. All of them are walking examples of unspoken trauma. Have you ever thought about the amount of pain or trauma that went unpacked in your families? Most of the time that pain wasn’t the fault of our “uncles”. My uncles were never the source of the problem. They were the symptom of generations who survived but didn’t always heal. These symptoms festered in secret and as everyone faced the mirror backwards, the family moved forward believing it was best to laugh through the pain than to address it.

Generational Trauma Doesn’t Disappear — It Echoes

For many black families, our elders came from tough times — segregation, incarceration, the drug epidemic, systemic racism, and the list goes on. They didn’t have therapy; they had other gateways. There were not allowed to police themselves, instead they were thrown in prison. They didn’t have emotional safety; they were told to mind their business and just deal with it. And that’s what they told the next generation, and they passed along the only knowledge they knew because all they knew was survival. To peel back the layers on addiction or mental illness, in general, would mean they had to tell someone the details grandma told them to take the grave. We are quick to say uncle always acts crazy when he drinks, but his dreams of the of going to the league went unfulfilled and he hasn’t seen his son since he was born because the child's mother heart is broken. My uncle's father had no gems to give to him about mental health, he simply told him "Boys do not cry." And now my uncle's son has to grow without closure and his lust for women is misogynistic because his mother's idea to raise him alone backfires on to every young lady he comes across. Or maybe he turns to drugs, gang life, or just like his father, alcohol. It’s a vicious chain of events with an unlimited number of outcomes that do not always end in happily ever after for anyone.

What We Don’t Heal, We Repeat.

Here’s the part we don’t say out loud: Some of us grew up and became variants of the very people we swore we’d never be—the drunk uncles, the chaotic brothers, the moody aunts. We never turned to face the mirror. We drank until we passed out, overworked to stay busy, and shut down in isolation to avoid pulling skeletons out the closets. It’s not easy to admit how deeply these cycles have shaped us, but awareness is the first crack in the chains. Once we see the wounds clearly, we can start making choices that lead us somewhere new.

Breaking the Cycle

Healing doesn’t mean disrespecting our loved ones. It means telling the truth about what shaped us. We can love our elders and still hold them accountable. We can appreciate the good times without accepting to be silent about the broken branches on the family tree. We can finally face the mirror and make healing mandatory. This pain did not start with my uncle so I will not blame him, but these chains have to go. Today I'm asking you to leave the cycle where you find it.

P. Phelps