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Gabrielle (Gabby) Ferrell

  • Prose-Stories
  • Sep 8, 2023
  • 4 min read

Prose-Stories / Mental Health



This prose piece describes the workshop series a group of labor activists and I have developed and begun offering regularly. In the workshops, we explore trauma in the labor movement: how it stems from oppressive systems including white supremacy, settler colonialism, the patriarchy, and most of all capitalism; how it sits in our bodies and comes to work with us – and is produced by the systems in which we labor; and how we can use the tools of solidarity to build a new kind of movement that heals collective trauma by working to overturn these systems. The work is collaborative, but this is my own story of how I came to it, and why the labor movement needs it now more than ever.


Prose-Story Excerpt


Public activism is prioritized over personal activism. The mental health of the BIPOC community, specifically of wmn and non-binary folks alike, tends to be neglected due to the urgency of frontline social justice, and as a result, not seen as an integral part of the revolution. In addition, the pandemic has caused us all to experience tremendous change, loss, and adaptation to various types of “new normal,” globally. In the midst of it all, why haven’t we, some of the most oppressed people, asked ourselves, “how am I feeling and what do I need right now,” more frequently?


Many people define an activist as a person who passionately puts themselves at the forefront of solving social justice issues. A person who dedicates their time, energy, emotion, and effort to push for real, lasting change for groups of people who are marginalized. This person is likely to support movements that benefit the earth and environment as well. This is all true; However, I argue that an activist is anyone on a healing journey, too. Especially if that person’s identity lies at the intersection of marginalization.


For a majority of us, feminist activism throughout 2021 has consisted of mentally recovering from the effects of 2020, and the other madness that this new year brought with it. The calm before the storm for me looked like getting sick back in December of 2019 and not wondering why my usual winter cold consisted of wheezing (which I now believe was COVID); thinking that the one person in New York who had contracted it would get better and the newsreels would continue to run normally; believing my Journalism Law teacher in March when she said to the class that the University of Connecticut would be closing for a couple of weeks until things got more stable, just for the entire world to enter a collective, unprecedented shut-down. There have been countless moments where I found myself bracing for the next announcement like a person in a crash does while their car is going out of control. This feeling was shared amongst pretty much everyone, young and old. The pandemic hit every single human on earth like a truck, so there should be no reason to act like we are all okay.


In the midst of the world turning upside down, so many things changed in my life. My aunt-in-law gave birth in a hospital room with only my uncle there beside her (which for Latinx people feels like a sin for the family not to be there) per the COVID policies enacted in March 2020. I graduated with my Bachelor’s in Journalism, Women’s, Gender and Sexuality Studies, and Sociology, from UConn from the laptop screen in my bedroom. I started my Master’s of Women’s and Gender Studies at Southern Connecticut State University virtually, and my graduate assistant position within the program the same way. But what affected me the most was that besides the alterations that the pandemic brought upon us, there began to be a tremendous loss.


My cousin passed away from cancer in October 2020 and we were not able to go and see her and say goodbye due to COVID precautions. My boyfriend’s older relative passed away from the coronavirus. His grandfather passed away soon after. Our family friend of 20 years passed away after being involved in a car accident. My boyfriend’s cousin passed away in a motorcycle crash. His coworker took his own life. And these are just a few of many other devastatingly difficult passings and situations. To add to this, I struggled to hear people’s stories of their losses and tribulations. Many lost both parents and/or grandparents, children, wives, husbands. Countless across the globe struggled to gain access to PPE and the vaccine, went through alarming patterns of suffering and loss, which is all still happening as we speak. All of this turned me, an African American and Puerto Rican woman, into therapy for the first time, and I have not looked back since. One thing that has felt constant through all of the change is that I am not alone, which is a bittersweet statement to make. I am among millions of people who have lost their loved ones, their sense of stability, and who they were prior to the pandemic. Many struggled due to COVID-19, others due to gender, racial, and/or sexual violence. No matter what the situation, everything connects back to mental health. This past year taught me that no one is immune to mental trauma, and just as truthfully, no one is really alone....



About Gabrielle "Gabby"

Gabrielle Ferrell is a 23-year-old Puerto Rican and African-American journalist, blogger, and activist who elevates the voices of Black, Indigenous, people of color, and the LGBTQIA+ community through her work. She is a graduate student and assistant in the Women’s and Gender Studies master’s program at Southern Connecticut State University where she plans to use her research to enhance her activism and career path. Aside from her passion for acting beyond theory and catalyzing change through practice, Gabby loves matcha tea, music, traveling the world, good books, and connecting with good souls.


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